I stood in formation on Monday morning after a very long weekend at the homeless shelter, grimacing as Captain Callahan walked toward us, her sunglasses obscuring her eyes. I felt torn. No one else on this whole damn campus seemed to know the good that Thaddeus Harris was capable of, and simply wrote him off as an incompetent cop and a "mean" guy.
But somehow in these past two days, I saw yet another side to this complicated man: a dutiful, respectful side. Not once did Thaddeus complain during the exhausting long volunteer shift at the homeless shelter, and not once did I see him frown or grumble. In fact, he was amazingly kind and gentle with the homeless people, and never refused anyone another helping, even at the very moment he was about to dump the leftovers into the trash.
In fact, I wasn't exactly sure how to feel about him now. Was the caring man from the homeless shelter always inside, just hiding under that gruff, bitter cop shell? Or was this some kind of male "revenge dress" to make me regret turning down his proposal? It sure seemed like it, because it seemed to be having that very effect.
"Today we will be going to the shooting range after lunch," Callahan announced. "This morning we will be practicing marching in formation, and then there is a quiz on local ordinances this afternoon."
"Is Captain Tackleberry coming back?" someone called out. I made a face of confusion. I hadn't heard anything, but of course I'd spent all weekend giving out food at the homeless shelter.
"He is supposed to return sometime later this week," Callahan replied, following her statement with a little smile. "The investigation is coming to a close. He will then resume being your squadron leader."
Interestingly, on the way to lunch, I was approached by Stetson, the A Squad cadet who'd rescued me from the water. I did a double take at seeing that he was purposely attempting to stay next to me, but I said nothing.
"Hey, April," he finally said, smiling at me.
"Hi Stetson," I murmured. What the hell was this all about?
"Sounds like the two squadrons will be going their separate ways here soon," he started. "Is it, uh, okay if I sit with you at breakfast?"
"Why? You haven't talked to me since that day at the pool."
"To be honest," he whispered, leaning in, "I'm trying to get Brookstone away from me. She won't leave me alone. Maybe if she thinks I'm interested in someone else, she'll—"
"Bad idea," I cut in. "She'll only get worse if you act interested in me. Ha," I scoffed. "I figured as much." I rolled my eyes, walking faster now as he jogged to catch up. "You have no reason to actually be interested in me, and she knows that."
"Well, Lieutenant Harris is certainly smitten with you," he said. "That's gotta mean something, right?"
I stopped walking, staring hard at him. Ever since we'd unofficially broken up almost three weeks ago, Harris and I hadn't spoken in public or given anyone any indication that we were still together.
"What are you talking about?"
"The showers, for one."
"I don't understand. Do you shower with him or something?"
"No, he sings in the shower."
He didn't explain further and I rolled my eyes, getting more frustrated by the second.
"Okay?"
"He sings 'April in Paris.' Over and over again. Ever hear it?"
"Sounds like it's talking about the month. And no, I haven't heard it. That's definitely not a current hit, by the sound of it."
"Well, did you know that every time you walk away from him, his eyes follow you? And no, he's not frowning as he watches."
"What, do you have a thing for him? Gee, Stetson, you seem to be a little obsessed with him."
Rather than answer, I watched his face turn red.
Oh, God… Conrad Stetson, masculine, A for Adonis Stetson, had a thing for Lieutenant Harris!
"I see," I quickly answered, grinning goofily now.
He looked totally mortified.
"No, it's nothing like that; it's—"
"It's okay," I replied. "Your secret's safe with me. You know, if Brookstone knew you were—"
"Don't say it," he growled, eyes wide.
"I'm just saying, if she knew, I know she'd leave you alone."
"Sounds like I'm gonna have to take her crap for a couple more weeks. Thanks for the uh, pep talk, Carnegie."
Now Stetson left my side and I was completely awestruck. So apparently I wasn't the only cadet with a thing for Harris. I wondered how many more there were, that were just that good at hiding it. Huh.
"Cadet Carnegie, please report to the commandant's office. Cadet Carnegie, please report to the commandant's office."
It was now Wednesday morning and I nearly choked on my spit at the announcement over the PA. What the hell was this about?
I quickly put on my sweatsuit and watched all the girls from the dorm stare at me as I walked as quietly as I could down the hallway, dreading what Lassard would say. Had something happened to Thaddeus? Why would I be asked to come to his office at such an hour?
A couple of minutes later, I knocked on Commandant Lassard's door.
"Who is it?" I heard him call out.
"Cadet Carnegie," I quickly replied, feeling awkward as I rubbed the back of my neck. Ugh, this was so different than the casual conversation I'd had with him about Harris being pranked mercilessly. Lassard, in spite of his silliness and his memory lapses, was a powerful, revered figure, and now I was being called alone to his office.
"Come in."
As soon as I opened the door, I gasped. There stood Captain Mahoney next to Commandant Lassard, and both men were smiling.
"Hello?" I quietly asked, making a sheepish face. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing is the matter," Lassard said with a big comforting smile, opening his arms as if welcoming me. "It's just that we seem to have lost all contact with Lieutenant Harris. Might you know where he is?"
My face scrunched up in confusion.
"What do you mean, you lost all contact? Does he not still live in his house?"
"I would assume so," Mahoney answered, stepping forward, "but he's never there. I've been trying to call him as well and it just goes to his answering machine. I even went so far as to station Lieutenant Proctor on a stakeout nearby to alert me of his return, but he's not seen him. Do you know where he's gone?"
"Why?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
"Do you not remember our respective conversations with him?" Lassard answered. "I very much meant what I said when I said I wanted to promote him. He has done many, many impressive things as of late."
"Ditto," Mahoney added with a grin. "It's just, we can't do anything when he's apparently dropped off the face of the earth."
"How can you promote him after he's quit his job?"
"It would be a pretty good enticement to come back, wouldn't you say?" Mahoney answered. "He's an asset to the academy and the precinct."
"Really?" I said, crossing my arms, feeling irritated as I stared at Mahoney. "Since when?"
"Yeah, he's certainly been training you." Now Mahoney was shaking his head with amusement, the smile still there somehow. "Listen, he made some mistakes and he owned them. People make mistakes. And our mistake was misjudging him, and we need to make up for that."
"Well, I don't know where he is right now," I replied, shrugging.
"Do you have any plans to meet him?"
Now I gulped. The homeless shelter on Saturday was the next time I was set to see him. But did he really want people to ambush him there? If he truly meant that he was done with the force, having a bunch of high-level cops flood into the homeless shelter would scare the crap out of everyone there, including him.
"I do, but it's not the best place to speak with him."
"My, my, Cadet Carnegie," Lassard said with a chuckle. "If you would prefer a much, much nicer hotel room, the Chaufont downtown always has a room on standby for the precinct for speaking engagements and things like that."
I could feel my face turning red at the implication. So that's what he thought of me. Wow.
"Just say the word," he continued, "and I can ensure that it—"
"It's nothing like that," I blurted.
"Then please, Miss Carnegie, won't you tell us where we can find him?" Mahoney asked patronizingly. "Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
I grinned—somehow I had the upper hand in a room with two highly ranked cops.
"On one condition," I began, to watch Mahoney's smile widen. "There's something I was hoping you could do in return."
Chills ran up my spine even though it was hot and stuffy as I walked into the shelter. There was no way I could get up at 7 am on a weekend after an exhausting week at the academy, so I arrived at the homeless shelter around 10, seeing Harris spooning out breakfast. The shelter was packed today, everyone way overdressed in the heat. Watching the way Thaddeus quietly blended in, doing nothing else but his job, I was instantaneously exhausted—I was not cut out for this kind of work; that was for sure.
In my hand I held a flyer that had been taped to a telephone pole outside the building, an advertisement for Harris's C.O.P. program, training citizens to patrol their neighborhoods and report crimes in an unofficial capacity. According to the poster, there had already been 3 classes just this past week. I folded the flyer up and stuck it in my purse, reminding myself to ask him about it when I was able. Apparently he'd really meant what he said.
I shook my head, grimacing as I walked past the line of people to slide behind the main buffet table; I'd made a mistake. A big mistake. Maybe if I'd said yes to Harris that day, he would have remained on the force and gotten his long-overdue promotion, and after I'd finished up the academy, he and I would have been assigned together. We'd drive around in the squad car together, the radio volume up high to make sure we wouldn't miss any calls when we decided to take a little… uh… break now and again. He could show me the ropes, and I would be learning more every day, side by side with my husband. We would literally have each other's backs.
Instead, I was resigned to spend the entirety of my time with Thaddeus side by side in a sweaty, smelly buffet line, getting roughly half an hour around noon for a quickie or a couple bites of cold cafeteria food and then a couple of hours before bed to make up for everything missed during the day. Not only that, but I had to watch the smiles on these homeless people's faces as my boyfriend made their day with a little greeting and a spoonful of food for them. It was clear that he was familiar with many of these people and had won them over—I noticed that many of them halted the line to make small talk with him, some exchanging a laugh. Who the hell was this man, anyway? Was the uniform attached to the asshole part of him or what?
I swallowed hard as I pulled my hairnet on, Harris giving me a little close-mouthed smile; gone was his grotesque arrogance and paranoia; he had finally won me over. Never did I think he had this in him, the ability to really humble himself and truly serve others. And yet, here he was, never running out of energy for the people he served.
I'd missed my chance, and now I had to live with that. Once I told him about Mahoney and Lassard and the conversation on Wednesday, he'd probably take off and leave the Metropolitan district behind for good.
Now in my apron and hairnet, I took my place next to him at the buffet table, as he gave me a little nudge to the shoulder, his gloved hands absolutely covered in runny egg. I looked at him with surprise and the look he gave me in reply was heart-melting.
"Mr. Harris," a man wearing an entire outfit of Adidas sweats loudly interrupted. "I tell you what; that C.O.P. training is helping."
"Glad to hear it," Thaddeus replied with a little close-mouthed smile, giving him a big lump of eggs.
"Yeah, it's like people respect me more. No one's been touching my stuff, even when I'm not at home. I can stay busy. I feel like there's always eyes and ears watching my stuff."
"Well, the C.O.P. program has been very well-developed and tested on citizens in all walks of life. Glad it's paying off for you, John."
"It sure is. The other day, I and another volunteer was able to scare away a group of guys who were loitering by my tent. We didn't even have to throw a punch."
"Fantastic. Just what I want to hear," Harris replied. "I'd, uh, appreciate if you'd tell more folks about this. The more that people train with this program, the better prepared they can be. Especially people who don't have doors and locks to keep riff-raff out."
"Thank you again, Sir."
Harris gave him a little half-smile, passing out the next batch of food.
"You're welcome, John."
With that, the next person stepped up in front of Harris, receiving her share of food. John looked back, giving Harris another smile.
Yep, I really fucked up.
