Chapter 26 - Calm Before The Storm

Harris was right; he returned well within the hour from the precinct office. I had opened the curtain to see Lieutenant Proctor's Crown Victoria pull up at the house, parking in the driveway next to Harris's own Crown Victoria. Yet not only did Harris get out of the car, but Lieutenant Proctor did as well. What was this all about?

I quickly hid behind the curtain, hoping that Lieutenant Proctor hadn't seen me. If they knew Harris had a cadet waiting for him at his house—in his bedroom, no less—they might change their mind about promoting him. Not that I thought it was the best way for him to get promoted. Should he not earn the promotion, to proudly receive it for some act of valor? For him to get it out of a bribe was a slap in the face to him and all the years he'd put into this career.

It was clear from the massive amount of ribbons and medals in his house that being a cop was his life. In fact, there were no pictures of any non-academy people hanging anywhere in his house. The books in his bookshelf were all related to police work. There was only a smattering of non-police books.

I felt relieved that I hadn't resorted to digging through his personal things while he was gone. I had merely walked through his impeccably neat house, looking at his books, medal-adorned walls and various plaques and trophies, things he clearly wanted to show off.


"Wow, Sir!" Proctor exclaimed, at having entered the house. "Did you redecorate?" I felt like a big dummy, hiding behind the curtain in Harris's bedroom. I didn't have a good impression of Lieutenant Proctor and kept quiet, hoping he'd leave soon.

"Really, Proctor?" Harris grumbled. I could hear them sitting down somewhere down the hall, well outside of Harris's bedroom, and I sighed, hoping this was just a mere nicety before Proctor was invited to go.

"Now, as you know, Mahoney has assigned you to work for me for the foreseeable future, to work on a covert operation. You can't discuss what you are doing with anyone; you got it? No more reporting to him like a little lap dog. You report to me."

"Of course, Sir," Lieutenant Proctor replied. I could imagine his goofy smile as he said it. "Just to clarify, being as we are the same rank—should we say I am working for you, or should we just say we're working together?"

"I'll be a captain again soon enough; don't you fret," Harris grumbled. "Tomorrow, Mahoney said. Sounds like a done deal to me."

"I guess," Proctor replied. "So, what's this covert operation? Sounds exciting. It's not about Lassard again, is it?"

"Of course not," Harris snapped. "It has to do with a local man named Larry Allen. I need to find out where he works, because I suspect he's—"

"Are you talking about the Larry Allen?" Proctor interrupted. "The guy who runs the big charity for the humane society? That Larry Allen?"

"What are you prattlin' on about, Proctor?" Harris shot back. "Larry Allen is awful common as far as names go, and—"

"I think I have one in my car!" Proctor suddenly exclaimed, and I could hear him dash back out the door.

"Now, what the hell is he on?" I heard Harris mutter. "And where's Carnegie?"

"Here it is, Sir!" a fast-approaching voice shouted, accompanied by thundering feet. "The monthly magazine they send me."

"Who is 'they'?" Harris questioned, and I heard the crinkling of paper follow his question.

"The humane society! Turn to the back," Proctor insisted. "His picture's usually on the back cover, along with his poodles Trixie and Dixie. Awww, aren't they just the cutest?"

"That's him, alright!" Harris exclaimed. "Now, where'd you say you got this?"

"Like I said, Sir, I get it monthly from our local humane society. I donate five percent of every paycheck to them and I get this great magazine completely free!"

"Magazine? It's no more than a 10-page ad for dog food," Harris huffed as he presumably leafed through the thing. "You got gypped, Proctor." The paper crinkled loudly again—he had apparently handed it back to Proctor. "Anyway, you need to find out more about this… Larry Allen," Harris grumbled. "I suspect he's up to something but I need more info before I act."

"Up to what?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out!" Harris barked back. "Find out where he lives. Where he works. Info on his company. Things like that. I expect a detailed report on your findings this coming Friday."

I held my breath as Lieutenant Harris strolled to his bedroom closet, pulling out a metal suitcase.

"Now this," he said to Proctor, "is state-of-the-art surveillance equipment. In fact, it was the very surveillance equipment I used to nail Konstantin Konali in Moscow some years back. I left a notebook in the briefcase explaining how to use the various components. When you are done with it, you must return it to my house on the double. Not the precinct office. Here."

"Wow, is this your house key?" Proctor babbled, having apparently received a key from Harris.

"Do not abuse the privilege," Harris growled in reply. "The only time you should be using that key is to return the very important equipment in that briefcase. Got it?"

"Sure do, Sir!"

They exchanged a bit more conversation and then Harris literally shooed Proctor away. After I heard Proctor's car pull away from the house, I emerged from behind the curtain and met Thaddeus in the hallway.

"You're getting him involved in this?" I asked, throwing up my arms. "We don't even know if my sister's fiancé has done anything wrong yet!"

"Well, that's what we're gonna find out," he said. "Now, how about we forget about work for the time being? Proctor's on the case, so now we can sit back and wait for his report."

"You really think he's going to figure out those things?" I asked, very skeptical of Proctor's abilities. "I just think it's better if we just forget it ever happened, just like you said in the hospital. What good is gonna come of this?"

"Watchin' your sister's butt-wad fiancé get taken away in handcuffs, for one," Harris said, beaming.

"I'm flattered that you'd risk your job to bring the guy down for disrespecting me, but—"

"What do you mean, risk my job?" Harris cut in. "I'm not riskin' anything, putting Proctor on the guy's trail. I told Proctor to claim he's a harmless stalker superfan wanting to learn more about his hero if he's caught, which doesn't seem too far from the truth."

I flashed him a look of worry and he immediately moved to change the subject.

"How about we take a joy ride in the Corvette?" he proposed. "I'll even let you drive."

My eyes widened. Lieutenant Proctor, the bribe, even Larry Allen, were all instantly gone from my thoughts.


"Oh wow, the acceleration is so smooth," I murmured, feeling the motor purring under the hood, the intoxicating smell of leather that still looked so new, the police officer sitting next to me who was not only smiling at my going twenty-five over the speed limit, but encouraging me to speed even faster on this remote straight run of road.

For once, he wasn't wearing his police uniform, instead having dressed down in a casual shirt and pants that would have blended in at any public place. He moved his hand to my thigh, giving it a squeeze.

"You got that right," he commented.

The drive was pure ecstasy—we'd put the windows down and the air was pouring in the car, blowing my hair back, the sun shining hot on the side of my face. It was as close to heaven as I'd ever gotten, but the stretch of road was still too damn short.

"Turn around—go again," he said, as I braked hard before we reached a major turn in the road, which lead to our county's local speed trap.

"You sure?"

"Yeah—this baby's capable of so much more than I let her do," he grinned. "Let 'er rip."

I put on my turn signal and made a U-turn on the shoulder, to go back the other way on that same long lonely stretch of highway. Once I was back on the road, I pushed the gas pedal to the floor and got to feel that incredible smooth acceleration once again. I wished I'd had a camera to film myself in the car doing this, so I could relive the moment again and again.

My mind wandered to Thaddeus's decision to abandon his strong opinion of his former student Tackleberry in favor of a promotion, and the dangerous game he was playing with his precinct, apparently striking an agreement with Captain Mahoney to have his own officer assigned to look into Harris's grudges in true stalker-esque fashion. This might be the last time things would be like this—me, newly reunited with Harris, a family who didn't know they'd not gotten their way, an amazing Corvette on all sides…

"So, about tomorrow," he began in a low voice, his words barely audible over the wind blowing into the car.

"Yeah?"

I slowed down a bit, reaching over to roll up my window.

"I'm to report downtown to attend a press conference at eleven hundred hours defending Tackleberry. Proctor gave me the newspaper from this morning—apparently this thing has all been planned out in advance. Anyway, it's clear from the writeup that my opinion is highly valued, being as me and Callahan trained him. Mahoney, Callahan, Jones, and Mrs. Feldman from the C.O.P. program are also supposed to say something on his behalf. The local news is going to be filming our statements."

"But aren't there protests going on down there like crazy right now?" I said, now going the speed limit. He leaned over and rolled up his own window to hear me better. And just like that, the feeling of freedom, that feeling of unbridled ecstasy, was gone.

"Sure are," he grumbled. "Mahoney's not the smartest guy, parading us cops out in front of an angry crowd, to act like Tackleberry's some saint."

"I'll come too," I said, grimacing. I was not looking forward to it, but at least I could offer some silent support while he and the other academy instructors riled up the crowd even more.

"You don't have to do that," he said. "It's going to be dangerous. Mahoney has called on two nearby precincts to serve as our chaperones, to guide us through the crowd. I heard he's even called in a SWAT team to be on standby."

"I can blend in with the crowd just fine," I said. "I'm not a cop yet—no one will recognize me."

"It's your choice," he said, "though we'll have to go our separate ways right when we get out of the car. They can't know you're one of us."

"You seem pretty worried," I responded, noticing that he seemed to cringe as he spoke. "What if this just inflames the crowd and they come after you guys?"

"Well, if I'm to die tomorrow," he said, leaning back against the seat, "I guess I should live it up today. Wanna test our flexibility in the 'Vette?"


Thankfully this time, I'd found a remote abandoned gas station and parked the car behind it in an empty wooded lot. I was definitely no spring chicken anymore—I immediately developed a charley horse that Thaddeus had to quickly massage away, and then he got one about five minutes into the action.

It was definitely sweaty, sticky, and a bit awkward but definitely thrilling in its own way, angling ourselves on the ruby red leather seats, the thankfully tinted windows steaming up in our little space as my skin was now bare against his skin, bare against the leather. I was surprised how well it went, considering his age and mine.

We finished in record time, with him seated on the fully-reclined passenger seat and me facing him on his lap. I hardly could tell exactly what was happening in the midst of multiple bare bodies and limbs and the relative shadiness of the nook I'd chosen to park us in. We lie chest to chest now, our sweat making us stick together, panting as our hearts slowly begin to get back to normal. In fact, we didn't move for a good five minutes or so, and then I had to shift because that damn charley horse was threatening to strike in my calf this time.

"Damn, that was good," Harris muttered, still leaning back, in no hurry to put his clothes back on.

"It sure was," I replied, having climbed back over to the driver's seat. We sat side by side now, both naked and yet completely at ease. I glanced over at him, seeing the glisten of sweat on his bare chest as it rose and fell with each breath. His silver hair was all askew, pupils dilated, lips swollen and red—I didn't realize Thaddeus Harris could look so damn sexy!

"You're lookin' at me like a dog looks at a bone," he commented warily.

"Yeah, well, I wish we could have another go," I said, sighing dreamily.

"Another fifteen, twenty minutes and you'll get your wish," he replied, a big smile on his face. Even so, his smile soon faded as he peered out the tinted, steamed-up windows of the car. "…though I'm not sure what all's around here. Don't need another Mahoney-Zed run-in."

"True," I replied, my hope fading. The sun was quickly going down in the sky. It would probably be dark soon, and it would be very hard to get re-dressed and back on the road, let alone get the right angle while fumbling around in the dark. "I guess we could just go back to your house then."

"We could go on a proper date," he countered. "It's good to have a change of pace. Wanna go to the drive-in?"


It was interesting that he'd picked Dangerous Minds as the movie we'd see. Did it reflect on how he felt teaching at the police academy? The movie's premise was based on a former US Marine woman teaching a bunch of tough drughead, gang member students. Even so, being in the Corvette with Thaddeus, a massive cup of Pepsi, and a giant bucket of popcorn made me quickly forget my worries. He'd made sure to park the Corvette all the way in the back, even behind the projector booth, and it wasn't long after we'd finished our popcorn that my hand found its way into his pants.

"Damn!" he exclaimed in his Texas drawl, eyes widening with surprise as he gaped over at me. "Where've you been my whole life?"

I couldn't help but smile at his obvious joy, and I watched intently as he struggled to maintain his composure as I continued. I enjoyed his expressions throughout the experience, alternating between biting his bottom lip, shutting his eyes, and gulping loudly. I was thrilled to be… affecting him in such a way.

When it was clear that he was done, he turned to me, his lips slightly parted, eyelids heavy. On his face was a strangely wistful smile.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, the sounds striking terror into me. Why was he apologizing? Was he going to break up with me or something for being too easy? Like, what the hell?

"Huh?" I replied, awkwardly, my hands both back on my lap now.

"I'm sorry," he repeated again, shaking his head, "for the way I gotta treat you in public." He looked stricken. "It's not fair to you. The bright side is it's less than two months now 'til the academy is done for this cohort, and then I won't have to downplay—"

"You don't have to apologize," I said, a loud breath of air I hadn't realized I'd been holding coming out with my words. "I'm sorry for not telling you about Angie's message and breaking up with—"

I was cut off by his lips on mine. He only kissed me for a moment, but it had had the effect of stopping me mid-sentence. When he moved back away, a little mischievous smile was playing across his lips.

"Popcorn?" he said with a big grin, thrusting the nearly-full bucket towards me. He looked down at my lap. "…though I'll have to insist you use your, uh, other hand…"


We returned back to his house shortly before midnight, and I sighed with relief to find his front door locked, and no Lieutenant Proctor anywhere around.

I read the article about the press conference, and Harris was right—it was made very clear in the article that Lieutenant Thaddeus Harris's opinion was highly valued; after all, besides Commandant Eric Lassard, he had worked at the academy the longest. His would be the most sought-after statement.

"Wow, you weren't lying when you said they want to know what you have to say," I commented, holding out the paper.

"I don't always lie," he said. "And when I do, it's mostly a… stretching of the truth."

I rolled my eyes and smiled at him. I wondered what he was planning to say about Tackleberry, being as he was so good at lying.

"Wanna cash that raincheck from the Corvette earlier?" Harris blurted, as soon as we'd entered the bedroom. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. I was in dire need of a shower, still sweaty and sticky from earlier, but was amazed at his continued interest. With that, he strode to the telephone in his room, the telephone Proctor had called on, and unplugged the phone line from the back of it. Apparently he didn't want to be interrupted again.

"Should we not get showers first?" I suggested, embarrassed by how I must have smelled. Had I even remembered to pack my deodorant? Shit.

"What for? Just gonna get all hot and dirty again," was the matter-of-fact reply.

"Well, aren't you just the Energizer bunny," I commented with a smile, knowing this was far beyond any action I'd had in a single day in the past.

"Gotta make up for lost time," he commented, moving around the room speedily, shutting his bedroom door and arranging the curtains while I stood in place. "That, and the possibility that the crowd tomorrow tears me limb from limb."

"I'll take the blame for the lost time," I said, moving to him and reaching out to remove his clothes. He watched me, half-fascinated, half-shocked. I doubted he'd let someone take the lead in such a bold way very often.

"Maybe I should tan your hide for that, you bad, bad girl," he commented, grabbing my ass, his eyes widening as his own pants fell to the floor. His words made me tingle with excitement. Would we have another session involving those handcuffs of his? My mouth went dry as cotton at the thought of it.

Just then, I glanced back at his nightstand.

"Wait—maybe you should set your alarm first," I suggested.

"I don't gotta be there tomorrow til 11 am," he said, snorting. "My own internal alarm will get me up long before then. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."