Chapter 19
CHAPTER
I returned to my desk in the squad room. Detectives Corina Diehl and Edgar Kurtz glanced at me as I passed them, then went back to their work. Sampson, who sat across from me, noticed I looked shaken.
“It’s past five o’clock,” John said. “Want a beer?”
“More like need a beer,” I said. I picked up my bag and coat and followed him to the elevators, which were crowded. We didn’t have another chance to talk alone until we were outside, trying to hail a cab.
“What was that all about with the chief?” Sampson asked.
“He sounded like he had a bad case of buyer’s remorse, and I felt like I’d been called into the principal’s office,” I said quietly. “Did you know there’s resentment against me among the rank-and-file officers?”
He nodded. “Because you leapfrogged into the elite unit.”
“I get it,” I said. “But Pittman and Chief Williams approached me. I didn’t ask for this position. It was offered.”
John shrugged. “That distinction might be lost on some of the guys. But so what? And everyone gets carried away when they come up with a theory like that.”
“You think I got carried away?”
“Maybe a little. I wouldn’t have said anything to anyone until I had it nailed.”
“Anyone except me.”
“I’ll tell you when you don’t have it nailed, and I expect the same of you.”
I sighed. “Guess I do need some checks and balances.”
“We all do, brother. There’s no going it alone in modern policing. The cowboy, lone-wolf, Dirty Harry detective is in the past. We’re part of a system now.”
I nodded. “Learning.”
“Every day,” he said. “Are we ever going to find a cab?”
“Seems like a message,” I said. “Think I’ll skip the beer, take the Metro, and go home.”
“Don’t take that trip to the principal’s office too hard.”
“I’ll try not to.”
But try as I might, I was still chewing on Chief Pittman’s comments long after I’d gotten home and while I was cooking dinner: baked salmon, green beans, and egg noodles with garlic and oil, which pushed the boundaries of my culinary expertise.
Maria got home from work after picking Damon up from day care.
He fast-waddled to me, and I scooped him up in my arms.
“I missed you, Daddy,” Damon whispered into my neck.
“I missed you too, little buddy,” I said, kissing the top of his head, my eyes misting. Maria took off her coat, somehow looking as fresh as she had when she’d left for work that morning.
Maria and I kissed hello, then we both kissed Damon on opposite cheeks at the same time, which got him laughing.
I asked Maria about her day. “Not bad,” she said. “Baby was kicking a lot. I took care of some follow-up calls I’d been putting off. Thanks for cooking.”
“Pretty straightforward meal.”
“I still appreciate it,” she said. “Come talk to me while I change.”
I shifted Damon to my other arm, checked the timers, saw I still had twenty minutes before dinner was done, and carried him with me down the hall.
Maria was in our closet, putting on sweatpants.
“What’s up with you?” she asked. “Lot of weight on those shoulders.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah. I saw the hound-dog look on your face before Damon toddled over.”
“I got a private spanking from Chief Pittman because I came up with a theory I was excited about, called the entire team into his office to tell them about it, and then realized how many holes there were in my argument.”
“Daddy spanked?” Damon said, lifting his head off my shoulder.
“Sort of,” I said.
Maria said, “Pittman will get over it. Enthusiasm never hurts.”
“In the future, I think I’ll be more, I don’t know, disciplined about who I tell things to.”
“You can be enthusiastic and disciplined. That’s not hard.”
As we went back out to the kitchen, I told Maria about the resentment toward me among many of the junior officers.
“I can see that,” she said.
“I can too. Doesn’t make it easier to deal with people watching you and wanting you to fail.”
“Well, you won’t fail.”
“You have more belief in me than I do.”
“Of course I do. I’m your wife. That’s what I’m here for. You’re the same way about me. Damon? Do you want some noodles?”
“Yes, please, Mommy,” he said as I lowered him into his high chair. He threw both hands up and crowed, “Noodles!”
Any kind of pasta was his favorite food, and when he cheered, I realized just how right my life was.