The Captain stared at the sea of stoic faces in the cold light of the station conference room, then closed his notebook. The briefing had gone over an hour., and contained information about the public safety drill the night before. He dismissed the officers, and they filed out into the hallway.
"Cortez, Turner...," the Captain added, "See me in my office."
Lisa and Jason looked briefly at one another and turned down the corridor toward the Captain's office. Jason stepped aside, gallantly offering the way to Cortez. "Ladies first," he said, with a grin. Cortez eyed him with a polite smile. There was something she didn't like about him, but couldn't put her finger on it.
She entered the Captain's office. "Close the door," he said, and she complied.
"Your whereabouts during the drill?" he said, looking at her. "You didn't check in."
"I know, Sir," she began.
He interrupted, sitting in his worn chair and consulting the screen on his desk. "The system indicates you installed a house arrest into her home at 22:12. Yet you were still there when the drill began at 23:30. Why were you there so long?" His stern expression fixed upon her.
"I left my phone in the cruiser," she lied.
He looked at her, his gaze unyielding. "Cortez, you seem off your game lately," he said frankly. "Those flowers on your desk are the third arrangement to arrive this week. Everything OK with you and Pete?"
She looked past the Captain at a spot between two photos on the wall. "Captain, I apologize for my absentmindedness before the drill. It won't happen again." Her fixed expression confirmed she didn't want to talk about her personal life.
"I have to answer for all my officers, Cortez," he warned slowly, meeting her gaze. "The State doesn't allow for delinquency. Don't let it happen again."
She nodded sharply and he excused her. As she walked out the door, Turner winked at her before going in and closing the door behind him.
Cortez walked to her desk and sat in the chair, opening up her laptop. She looked at the bouquets on the desk, each tasteful, expensive. She then put them each onto the floor beside the trash can, removing the unread cards from their plastic perches, ripping them and tossing the pile into the bin. These, like the voicemails Pete left, would also be ignored. She felt many eyes in the station looking at her, but she tried to fix her gaze and focus upon her screen as she typed.
Woods entered the station with a detainee. He was handcuffed, yelling about the mask forced upon him. Woods cuffed him to a bench and brought his laptop to a nearby counter for processing, scanning the detainee's ankle monitor.
Jason emerged from the Captain's office with a snide grin. The detainee stared intensely, watching him walk into the bullpen of desks.
"Hey!" the detainee called out.
"Quiet down," Woods warned him, entering a code into a keypad. Jason looked casually over his shoulder at the disruption, then turned around and donned a cap.
"Hey, sport," the man called pointedly at Jason, sitting taller on the bench. "I know you...you suck some good dick. Take it good, too."
Jason's anger flashed at the detainee, whose eyes he recognized from the club the other night. Almost reflexively he picked up a stapler and hurled it across the room. It hit him in the forehead and he slumped over, his cuffed hands the only thing keeping him upright. Blood began to ooze down his face, soaking his shirt.
Woods and the Captain rushed upon Jason, who stood motionless, his body almost shaking with surprise, fear and anger. Two more officers attended to the unconscious detainee. The Captain bellowed at Jason and Woods restrained him. Jason's wide eyes met Tony's, who held his gaze for a moment, then softly closed his laptop, donned his flack jacket and walked out of the station.
Cortez walked out and got into the passenger side of the cruiser, where Tony had been sitting for a few minutes.
"What the fuck was that all about?" she said rhetorically.
Tony just shook his head and said something about Turner being an asshole.
"How about coffee before we hit the park?" Tony asked. "Should be a slow night."
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I couldn't focus on the work before me, as I kept reading the same paragraph over and over. Life had changed completely since that night I was put on house arrest. Now I was literally a prisoner in my home, with access to my publishing work online, but my contacts with friends and family were limited. A food service application appeared on my desktop a day after my home arrest, which allowed me to use some of my social credit to order necessities. I ordered what I thought I would need for the next several days, as I had no idea when the court date would be offered and appear on my calendar.
After the drill had ended, I didn't know what to expect in regard to Lisa. We both didn't. Once that door unlocked, her freedom meant my captivity. She needed to report to work, but reassured me she would return when she could. And she did come to me, usually at night after work. The first time she returned, there was an awkward attempt at explanation of what transpired between us. But it was interrupted by that same spark that drew us together, and we fucked again and again. Sometimes she would stay the night, sometimes just for a few hours. But I needed her physical presence, and she needed me to need her.
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