Chapter 4 #3
Emma ran back to her mother, bouncing with barely contained excitement, and Maddox straightened. She didn’t look toward Jade’s booth or acknowledge any observation, but something about the set of her shoulders suggested she was aware of the audience.
Jade made a mental note: Patience with children, willingness to get down on their level and explain instead of dismiss, making the interaction meaningful.
And there was something else, something harder to quantify.
It was the softness in Maddox’s voice when she’d said “promise,” the way she’d positioned herself at eye level with Emma instead of looming over her, and the conscious choice to make the little girl feel special rather than simply setting a boundary and walking away.
This was someone who understood how to give care, just struggled to know how to receive it.
Five minutes passed. Zeus finished his water, shook himself, and settled into a more relaxed posture. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his tail gave a small wag when Maddox scratched behind his ears. The shift from working mode to off-duty was visible, and Maddox clearly recognized it.
Maddox straightened and scanned the crowd and raised her voice just enough to carry across the space. “Emma, come here.”
The girl was off like a shot, her mother following more slowly. Emma skidded to a stop in front of Maddox, vibrating with excitement but managing to hold still.
“Okay,” Maddox said, her tone gentle but instructive. “Zeus is ready now, but you need to approach him the right way. You need to go slow, let him sniff your hand first, then you can pet his shoulder, not his head. Got it?”
Emma nodded solemnly, extending her hand with exaggerated care.
Zeus sniffed, his tail wagging once, and then allowed the small hand to rest on his shoulder. Emma’s face transformed into pure joy, the kind of uncomplicated happiness that came from getting exactly what you wanted and having it be even better than you expected.
“He’s so soft,” Emma whispered, as if speaking too loud might break the spell.
“He sheds everywhere,” Maddox said, and there was something approaching humor in her voice. “I vacuum twice a week and still find fur on everything I own.”
Emma giggled, still petting Zeus with reverent gentleness. Her mother stepped forward, her phone out. “Would you mind if I took a picture?”
Maddox hesitated for half a second then nodded. “Sure.”
The mother snapped a photo of Emma beaming beside Zeus and Maddox standing off to the side, not quite in the frame but present. Emma thanked Maddox three times before her mother finally steered her away, and then other children started coming forward, emboldened by Emma’s success.
Maddox allowed it and supervised the interactions, making sure Zeus wasn’t overwhelmed.
She explained to each child the proper way to approach, corrected their overeager hands, and praised the ones who listened.
Jade watched the entire interaction, cataloguing details she knew Maddox would never acknowledge in therapy.
This wasn’t the woman who sat rigid in the converted conference room, deflecting every question with professional distance.
This was someone who understood how to connect when it had structure, clear rules, and defined endpoints.
After ten minutes, Maddox raised her hand. “That’s enough for today, folks. Zeus needs a real break now. Thanks for coming out.”
The children walked off, some disappointed but most satisfied, and Maddox loaded Zeus back into the K-9 vehicle. She pulled out a Kong toy from the back, gave it to Zeus as a reward, and closed the door to let him rest.
When she turned, she was facing Jade’s booth.
For a moment, they made eye contact across the fifty feet of grass and scattered families. Maddox’s expression was unreadable behind her sunglasses, but she didn’t immediately turn away. Instead, after a beat of hesitation, she started walking in Jade’s direction.
Jade kept her posture relaxed and non-threatening, making it clear this was Maddox’s choice to approach.
Maddox stopped a few feet from the table, hands in her pockets and shoulders squared. “Dr. Kessler.”
“Officer Shaw.” Jade gestured toward the now-closed K-9 vehicle. “Zeus is impressive. You both are.”
“It’s his job.” Maddox’s tone was neutral. “He’s good at it.”
“So are you,” Jade said simply. “That was excellent work, both the demonstration and the way you handled the kids afterward. Not every officer would take the time.”
Maddox shifted her weight, clearly uncomfortable with the compliment but not deflecting it outright. “Kids remember positive interactions with police. It matters for community relations.”
Jade almost smiled at the clinical framing, but she let it slide. “Emma will remember today for a long time. You made her feel special.”
“She waited,” Maddox said, as if that explained everything. “Most kids don’t. They rush in, don’t listen, and make it harder for everyone. She waited, so she was rewarded.”
Jade didn’t point out the softness in Maddox’s voice when she’d called Emma over first. “Well, it was good to see you in a different setting outside the office.”
Maddox’s jaw tightened. “To observe me?”
“Observing everyone,” Jade corrected. “It’s helpful to understand how officers interact with each other and the community. Context matters for the work I do.”
Maddox didn’t look entirely convinced, but she didn’t push back either. She glanced toward the table, taking in the pamphlets and sign-up sheet. “Did anyone actually stop by?”
“A few. A couple officers asked about group sessions, and one family wanted resources for their teenager. It’s been steady.”
Maddox nodded once, processing. “Torres was over by the patrol vehicles making comments earlier.”
Jade kept her expression neutral. “What kind of comments?”
“The kind she always makes.” Maddox’s tone went flat. “Dismissive about the wellness committee, therapy, all of it. She thinks it’s a waste of budget.”
“I see.”
Maddox studied her for a moment, as if trying to gauge Jade’s reaction. “It doesn’t bother you?”
“It bothers me,” Jade admitted. “But I’m not here to convince people like Torres. I’m here for the officers who want help and are willing to ask for it.”
Something shifted in Maddox’s expression; it wasn’t quite approval, but close.
“Right,” Maddox said. Then, after another beat of silence, she said, “I should check on Zeus and make sure he’s settled.”
“Of course.”
Maddox turned to leave then paused, glancing back. “The group sessions. When are those starting?”
“A few months out, tentatively. I’m still working through the logistics with Chief Marten and Captain Scott.”
Maddox nodded and walked back toward the parking lot without another word. Jade watched her go, noting the way Maddox’s posture shifted the moment she reached the K-9 vehicle and opened the door to check on Zeus. Safe space, safe connection.
A shadow fell across Jade’s table, and she turned to find Riley standing there, Sarge sitting perfectly at her heel, a knowing look on Riley’s face. “She actually stopped to talk to you,” Riley said, her voice pitched low enough to not carry. “That’s new.”
“Just a brief conversation. Nothing significant,” Jade replied neutrally.
“For Maddox, stopping at all is significant.” Riley’s expression held something between amusement and approval. “She usually avoids chitchat like it’s a biohazard.”
“She complimented Zeus, and I complimented her work. It was a professional exchange.”
“Right.” Riley’s tone suggested she didn’t entirely buy it. “Did she mention Torres?”
“Briefly. She said Torres was making dismissive comments.”
Riley’s smirk turned into a slight frown. “Yeah, Torres has been running her mouth all morning about the wellness committee being a waste of time. Half the department’s getting tired of hearing it.”
Jade filed that away. It was useful information about department dynamics, about who supported the work and who didn’t. “It’s not uncommon. Change takes time, especially in law enforcement culture.”
“True.” Riley glanced toward where Maddox was still checking on Zeus, then back to Jade. “But for what it’s worth, Maddox showing up to talk to you, even for two minutes, means something. She doesn’t do casual. If she stopped, she was making a choice.”
“Noted,” Jade said carefully.
Riley’s expression softened slightly. “Just…keep doing what you’re doing. Some of these officers need what you’re offering, even if they won’t admit it. Especially if they won’t admit it.”
“That’s the plan.”
Riley nodded once, then moved off with Sarge, leaving Jade alone at her booth again. The park was thinning out now, families packing up and officers wrapping up their demonstrations. The energy was winding down, and everyone looked satisfied and tired.
Jade looked back toward the K-9 vehicles and saw Maddox leaning against her door, Zeus visible through the window resting. Even from a distance, Jade could see the way Maddox’s entire posture had softened.
She can connect, Jade thought. She just won’t let herself.
That was the wound. Not the inability, but the refusal and subsequent isolation. And today, for just a few minutes, Maddox had chosen differently. She’d stopped at Jade’s booth, engaged in conversation, and asked questions. They were small steps, barely visible, but they were there.
Progress didn’t always look like breakthroughs. Sometimes it looked like a two-minute conversation and a question, and sometimes that was enough.
Jade was folding her table when she heard voices carry across from the nearby patrol vehicles.
“All this wellness committee bullshit.” Officer Vanessa Torres stood by an unmarked sedan, loud enough to be heard by anyone within twenty feet at least. Mid-thirties, patrol division, the kind of swagger that came from years on the job and a resistance to anything that smelled like change. “Like therapy’s gonna stop bad guys.”