Recovery
Chapter 2
Nyla points to the heavy-duty stun-gun in the back of the shop. We can hit that dealer from 30 feet with that. We'll have to be within 15 with the smaller one. Let's take both and use whatever makes the most sense when we get close."
"I assume that you want the big one," Nolan responds.
Nyla just looks at him before he grabs the less hefty weapon.
By the time Nolan and Harper have the meth dealer in sight again, he's surrounded by a crowd of buyers. They're kids, making it even more imperative to get a clear shot. Both cops move forward slowly, concealing their approach behind a line of shrubbery. "Can you make the shot?" Nolan whispers.
Nyla shakes her head. "Not without hitting a kid. Damn! We need a distraction."
"What are you thinking?" Nolan asks.
"That I need to resurrect an old friend. Keep that asshole covered while I get what I need from the unit."
"What if he moves?" Nolan asks.
"If he's clear, take him down. But with the stream of customers coming at him, I don't think he's going anywhere."
After returning as quickly as she can to the L.A.P.D. vehicle, Nyla reaches for what Nolan calls her Mary Poppins bag. Her alter-ego, Crystal, is no magic nanny. She couldn't even take care of herself and ended up blowing her cover. But a low-level meth dealer won't know the difference. She'll just be another buyer looking for a supplier. She pulls out clothes that reveal too much skin and finger combs her hair out of the restrictive style required under regulations. She doesn't have the unhealthily thin frame of a meth addict, but she's got a workable story. Taking a long way around, she approaches by a route where Nolan can see her without taking his eyes off their suspect.
Nyla pushes ahead of the kids. "Man, you need to talk to me. I want five grams."
The dealer's eyes narrow. "You looking to cut in on my territory?"
Nyla shakes her head in disgust. "You think I'd waste my time selling a few hits?" Her palms trace her curves. "I've got clients, good ones. But they like a little lift, you know?"
The dealer smirks. "Yeah, I know. But you're going to run me out of stock."
"What do you care?" Nyla challenges. "You sell to them," she continues, waving a hand at the kids, "you're here all morning. You sell to me, and you can quit and have some fun."
Nyla's target grabs a handful of her behind. "Fun with you?"
"If you can afford it." Nyla shifts, pulling free, and giving John a clear shot. Wires snake out from the rookie's stun-gun, and the dealer drops. Harper gazes down at the suspect convulsing on the ground and shrugs. "I'm having fun now."
Sergeant Grey's eyes are almost even with Nolan's, but he stares down at Harper. "What am I going to do with you two? I assign you to a community center, and Nolan tases a suspect. And Harper, you're out of uniform."
"With all respect, Sir," Nolan responds, "the suspect was selling meth to children. Harper's cover enabled us to take him down using non-lethal means and arrest him without putting any of the kids in danger. That's by the book, Sir. I can quote you the sections if…"
Grey holds up a hand. "Never mind, Nolan. You two get your asses to the community center and finish your shift there. I already got a call from a Ryan Carradine wanting to know why my cops weren't where they were supposed to be."
"Sir, we were exactly where we were supposed to be," Harper protests, "making that neighborhood safer. And I'm not about to apologize for that. Nolan shouldn't have to either."
Grey shakes his head and points at the door. "Just get out of here, both of you. Now!"
Arms crossed, James leans against the community center's front wall, watching the cops approach. It's about time. "What were you doing, shoving donuts down your throats?"
Harper pins him with her gaze. "Busting a meth dealer. That OK with you?"
James shrugs. "Drop in the bucket. There will be another one back tomorrow. Probably even later today."
"Look, James, is it?" Nolan inquires. "We're here to listen to your concerns about this neighborhood. When Harper and I were at the division to process that dealer, I had a look at the complaints filed by the residents of this area. Most of them were about meth. We'll do what we can to make things better around here. And if you have any ideas about how we should do that, I'm anxious to hear them."
James shakes his head. "Yeah, sure you are. There's a new stack of complaints in there. You can ignore them as well as the city and any other cops assigned here have."
"Nice guy," John comments as he and Harper inspect the center's facilities. It doesn't take long.
"He's just disappointed," Nyla explains. "The city has been disappointing the people in this neighborhood for years. So has the L.A.P.D. And he thinks we just did it again."
John gazes around at the beat-up tables and filing cabinets. "There must be some way we can make a difference. You know that park we saw on the way in? I could fix it up."
"By yourself, Nolan?" Nyla questions.
"Maybe I can get some help from the neighborhood," John considers. "It's their kids who don't have a decent place to play. They just want something better. I can start a sign-up sheet."
Nyla thumbs through a pile of sign-up sheets curling with age. "Good luck with that, Boot."
Holding a heavy-duty flashlight, an off-duty Nolan tours the decrepit playground. None of the lights that should come on automatically after dark are working. He can see that the bulbs are smashed, but he doesn't know if the damage goes any further than that. He doesn't see any loose wires, but they could have been stripped out entirely for the copper. A trip to the home center for some screw-in floodlights should tell him one way or another.
He checks out the play equipment. Much of it is covered in graffiti but otherwise intact. There's not too much a new coat of paint won't fix. The sandbox is full of animal droppings and worse. Replacing the sand probably won't be worth it. It could be a daily or even hourly chore.
The play surface is too hard and cracked to offer any protection to tender knees and elbows. Using a filler made of recycled tires could take care of that problem and be environmentally conscious at the same time.
John doesn't really anticipate much environmental consciousness from the locals. From what Harper's said and what he's seen, a lot of the neighborhood considers at least their corner of the world irretrievable. A playground that kids can actually use will be a small start, but it will be a start. And he can recruit the other rookies to help. He's already got them volunteering for tutoring, and slapping paint around doesn't require any math.
It wouldn't hurt to get some decent nutrition into young mouths, either. John's as fond of junk food as anyone, but no child should live on it. Except for a couple of overpriced and understocked convenience stores, the area is a food desert. He can't bring in a supermarket, but a community garden could be possible. At least kids could have a few fresh vegetables. Getting rid of meth dealers is one way to help the people here, but there are others. There's more to serving and protecting than shooting a stun gun. John's still figuring out how much.
