1BEFORE THERE WAS DARKNESS LongLashes1

PART THREE

Walter Clark was an NYPD veteran with twenty years on the job under his belt. His fellow officers would attest to the fact that he had definitely been around the block a time or two. Having traveled those circles for as many years as he had, the long-term exposure to the ins and outs of the job and having worked his way up through the ranks, Walter was an old hand at being a pretty good judge of people. This ability had served him well, not only during the long, often tedious and stressful hours of the criminal interview process, but also in identifying the best and worst in his fellow officers.

That was why when he came across a young beat cop by the name of James Dunbar, he knew instinctively that this one couldn't be a beat cop for long. There was something different about this Dunbar kid; he possessed an unmeasured commitment to his job and an unwavering view of what it meant to be a cop – it wasn't all spit and nails; it also demanded a degree of heart and compassion and pride; Dunbar certainly had all of that and more. Although Walter couldn't put his finger on it right away, it didn't take him long to recognize that what he saw in this young cop were all the same qualities that had carried him up through the ranks and ensured his position as an NYPD "long-timer."

He was also very aware that Dunbar wasn't the type of cop the brass would take notice of right away. It wouldn't matter that his reputation was golden; for all that he was, outgoing he wasn't. He was almost too reserved and too private to really stand out. It wasn't shyness; it was more a defense. While some of the traits would serve him well in his ability to do the job, others, like the reservedness, were exactly the traits that would more than likely guarantee he would be overlooked when it came time for promotion.

But this kid was too gifted to let languish in the role of beat cop or get lost in the shuffle somewhere along the way. Walter knew this one had too much promise, too much potential, and he wasn't about to let that promise pass unnoticed. He couldn't; the kid impressed him.

"Officer Dunbar." Jim didn't immediately recognize the voice echoing his name down the hallway; truth be told, he wasn't really interested in taking the time to find out who it was either. What he really wanted to do was just keep walking and pretend he hadn't heard a thing.

It had already been an extremely long day; one of those dog days of summer to be certain, where the heat and humidity hung over the city like a wet blanket and the air didn't move; it was hard to breathe. After 8 hours on the beat, all he wanted was to go home and grab a long, hot shower and a tall, cold beer.

That poor son-of-a-bitch had stood out on the 3rd floor ledge for most of the afternoon, in the unforgiving heat of the July sun, a pistol shoved tightly against his chin. After a few hours of trying to talk the guy down, the negotiators just didn't seem to be making any progress. Out on patrol duty and assigned to this location for crowd control, Jim could already sense that this one was technically over before it had even begun. As if to validate his read on the situation, the guy had done it, pulled the trigger right there, in front of the gathering audience on the sidewalk below. Jim had never actually witnessed anyone do it before; he hoped he'd never have to see it again.

He drew in a deep sigh and turned to see Walter Clark heading down the hall toward him. He hadn't really had much contact with Walter on a personal level; a hello, or how you doing, here and there if they happened to meet in the break room or the hallway; but those occasions were enough that he had long ago been informed that the name was "Walter, please. Not Detective Clark. That's for the bad guys and the Boss."

Jim had heard more than enough good things about this man to know that this was someone you would definitely want to have in your corner. Considering the thoughts that had been spinning around in his head recently, the timing couldn't have been more right.

"Sorry, Dunbar; didn't mean to hold you up. I've been trying to catch you for a couple of days now. Uh, if you had a minute or two to spare, I thought we could talk."

He flashed one quick smile Walter's way, but there was a weariness etched on his face. "Yeah, I was just heading home, but I got some time." He hesitated before asking, "Is this something I need to be worried about?"

Walter let out a short laugh and slapped Jim lightly on the back. "Nah, not at all. Let's find somewhere a little more private than this hallway." Once they were settled comfortably in the far corner of the break room, he leaned forward in his chair and looked Jim straight in the eye. "How's the job been treating you, kid?"

The question seemed to catch Jim a little off balance. "Good," he managed, "it's good. Hasn't been a terrific day but, you know, sometimes you get one like that."

"Yeah, I heard. Couldn't have been an easy thing to see. First time?"

"For that, yeah, it was, but, you know, I've seen worse; we all have." He paused for a minute and Walter could see that he was guarding himself, trying not letting too much out, a perfect example of that defense mechanism. His fingers nervously drummed the table top. "People, though, they amaze me sometimes, you know? It was so bleeding hot out there today but that didn't stop the crowd – they just kept coming. They weren't in a hurry to go anywhere either. I guess there's something to be said for morbid curiosity - never was my cup of tea."

"Understandable; not mine either. So, what is, Jim?"

"My cup of tea?" He shrugged his shoulders and caught his lower lip between his teeth. "I don't know, really. But, since you asked, I'll be honest with you. I've been having some thoughts lately. No reason, really….it's just I think I'm at the point where I want more." He was almost surprised that it had come out so easily, and to someone he still considered a stranger. He caught himself quickly, wanting to recover before sounding like he wasn't satisfied with things the way they were. "Don't get me wrong. I still love what I do; I love being a cop. It's just I think I'm capable of so much more than what I'm doing now."

Walter nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, me too, Dunbar. I'd hate to see a good cop like you stagnate out there on the beat. That's why I wanted a chance to sit down and talk. I wanted to see where your head was. Sounds to me, though, that if I were to put the idea out there that I'd like you to think about moving up, take that next step and work on becoming a detective, you might be open to the concept?"

"Walter, you a mind-reader?" It amazed Jim that someone had found him that easy to read. He had spent so much of his life trying to build the impenetrable walls around himself, and here was someone who, in less than 10 minutes, had managed to break them down. "Yeah, I'd be interested."

Walter stood and moved behind Jim's chair. Placing a hand on his shoulder, he squeezed lightly and smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, kid. I think you're one of the best candidates I've seen in a long, long time and I honestly think you've got a real bright future ahead of you. Now, we've just got to make sure we get you moving on the right track."

The enthusiasm was reflected in Jim's voice, "So, where do we start?" But Walter thew him a curve ball - he didn't get the answer he was expecting.

"For now, how about a beer? It's been a long, hot day."

"I really am beginning to think you can read minds, Walter. Mine, anyway."

The older man laughed and put his hand in the middle of Jim's back, steering him toward the hall. "Come on, Dunbar. Let's get out of here. We've got a lot to talk about." With the security of that hand gently guiding him forward, the wheels of change were set in motion.