Recovery
Chapter 35
Journal of John Nolan
Lucy called tonight and said Rachel was willing to talk to me, but only on the phone. She told me that they were together and she'd put her cell on speaker. That was all right with me. I'd managed to get some of the leftovers I heated up for dinner on my shirt. If we'd Skyped or something, I would have needed to change.
Rachel already knew what I wanted to talk about. The commission had yet to address the problem of ex-cons with physical disabilities or cognitive deficits hitting the streets. But she promised she'd bring it up and had some excellent suggestions regarding resources that we could offer. Some of them run off government money, but many were with non-profits I'd never heard of. So I took notes, not just for me but to share with Henry and Ben. Henry, especially, would be interested in giving the younger released prisoners a decent chance to get on their feet. And now Lucy and I had more to work with than when we started.
But Rachel didn't sound like the in-the-fray social worker I remembered. That Rachel knew the law backward and forward. She used it fighting tooth and nail to protect kids from abusive parents. The Rachel on the phone stumbled over details and sometimes lost the thread of the conversation entirely. Lucy jumped in to pull her friend back, but the change was noticeable.
At one point, I heard a crash, and Lucy claimed she knocked over her coffee mug. But in all the time Lucy and I were together, I never knew her to be clumsy. If anything, that was my department. I think she was covering for Rachel.
I suspect that whatever is going on with Rachel is the reason Bradford vacillates between silence and being a total hardass. Not that being a hardass is anything new for him, but a smile occasionally used to break through. Recently, however, during class and exercises, I've seen barely a hint of one.
Maybe Rachel's difficulties are temporary. I hope so. But if they're permanent, sooner or later, the truth will come out. And I'm guessing that the longer it takes, the more painful it will be for Rachel, Bradford, and Lucy. Lucy may no longer be my lover, but she is my friend and my partner. I'll hate seeing her go through that. And I feel sorry for Rachel. I even feel sorry for Bradford.
Bailey was at her firehouse tonight, but before my call with Lucy and Rachel, I got to talk to her for a while. She says that the EMTs and paramedics in the fire department run into some of the same kinds of problems that cops do. They may even see more of them since they're called out for overdoses. We all have Narcan with us, but the firefighters load up their vehicles with it. Also, sometimes, what people call about isn't drug use; it's mental illness. Or it can be both. And too often, someone hurts themselves in a suicide attempt. Emergency intervention teams could improve the outcomes for all of that. Cops respond to fire department calls anyway. But as it stands now, probably not always the right cops. That's something else we'll have to look at as the system expands.
Unless we get emergency call-ups, tomorrow will be one of those rare times when Bailey is off duty, and I don't have a class or an exercise. So we've tentatively planned to spend the evening together as soon as I can get out of Mid-Wilshire. As we decided before, we don't want to spend a lot of time waiting to get into a movie or get seated at a restaurant. But Lucy and Jackson have been singing at a new karaoke bar. Lucy says the other singers aren't bad either. Going by the way she winces when someone hits a clinker, I'll take her word for it. And she says the place is new enough that it still has open tables.
That sounded good to me and also to Bailey when I told her about it. I figure we can get wings and nachos and just listen for a while. I'll be working early the next morning, so I'll lay off the beer. But Bailey can drink if she wants to. We should have a chance to de-stress a little. And if things go well, we can de-stress even more when we get back here. I always love waking up with her in my bed, and better yet, in my arms.
I still haven't told Henry or Ben about the whole intervention team thing. It seems like there just aren't enough hours in the day. I'm writing this at eleven to get settled enough to grab some shuteye. At my age, staring at the screen of my laptop too long makes my eyes tired. And five a.m. comes way too fast. I could probably push it a little and sleep until five-thirty, but I like to have some time to talk to the other cops before roll call. And I don't need the look I'd get from Grey if I rushed in at the last second, either. So, when possible, early to bed, early to rise. The early to rise part was there even when I had my construction company. But the boss can get away with a lot more than a P2.
"Nolan, Chen, see me in my office," Grey instructs after dismissing roll call.
"What have we done now?" Nolan mutters as he and Lucy approach the sergeant's door.
Grey signals for them to enter. "Look, I'm guessing that if either of you never heard of Rosalind Dyer again, it would be too soon. But she's told the warden that she has inside information on La Fiera, and she's only willing to talk to Nolan."
Lucy's eyes blaze. "It's B.S., Sergeant! She's just playing mind games, the way she did before."
With his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, Nolan draws a shaky breath. "But she told the truth or at least a version of it. If she knows something, we can't afford to ignore it. I'll go talk with her."
"Look, Chen, I know Rosalind's disciple put you through hell," Grey acknowledges, "but I want you to go with Nolan. If she's lying, I need you to pick up on the signs."
"I couldn't pick up on them with Caleb," Lucy protests.
"But you had no reason to suspect him," Grey argues. "You know that Rosalind's a psychopath. So you'll be viewing her that way. And the prison's finally installed audio with the video surveillance. If you need to, you can watch from outside."
"Maybe that would be best," Nolan suggests softly.
Lucy draws herself up to her full 5 foot four. "I can face Rosalind. How can I handle the street if I can't handle being near a criminal who's shackled and behind bars? And I can handle the street."
"I know you can," Grey agrees. "That's why I made you and Nolan an intervention team. You can handle anything thrown at you. You two can leave for the prison right now. And if you believe there's anything to what Rosalind's trying to sell, call me immediately. I'll have to take whatever it is up the chain. So no running off half-cocked. Are you hearing me, Nolan?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Chen?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Then get out of here. And watch yourselves! Right now, you're the only intervention team the division's got. We can't afford to lose you."
