The next couple of weeks of the academy went by like a blur. Now that Harris and I didn't have to hide our relationship, things were far less stressful. Gertrude ran her damn rock tumbler nearly every night and so Harris and I would camp out in the pool house, which was perfectly fine with me.

Somehow, by Harris admitting all his past failures and by stepping down, the pranks came to a complete stop. Prank-free days even continued after Captain Callahan was permitted to return to the academy following a full investigation and the complete agreement of Cadet Stetson. These past few weeks, I'd only seen interim Commandant Mahoney one time, but Commandant Lassard was a constant presence. He'd moved back into his old office, with Harris returning to his former office as well. Several times a day, Lassard would drive past our squadron exercises in a golf cart and wave at us, his (new) Birdie in a goldfish bowl sloshing next to him.

Yes, things had gone back to being even better than normal. We cadets were now being brought into the real world much more often, to ride alongside our instructors on their own patrols. Not only that, but the ethics scenarios and other curriculum changes Harris had made were still being actively implemented and were referenced after we returned from patrols and traffic duties. It was all very engaging, and I was learning a ton every day.

"You wouldn't believe who swung by campus last night," Harris said, as we sat out by the lake following another paired ethics scenario. Thankfully, ever since Callahan's plans for Stetson had been foiled, I was free to choose my own partner. It went well enough with Mullers this evening, but now it was dinner time and Harris and I stayed back under the trees, waiting for everyone else to go away.

"Who?" I asked.

"Tackleberry. He and Jones tracked me down in the men's shower, of all places."

My eyes went wide. Harris saw the alarm in my face.

"Yeah, that's what I thought too. Here I am, naked as a jaybird, and two men who don't exactly like me, walk right up to me, fully dressed, while my face is full of soap. You know the showers here; there's no privacy whatsoever."

"Oh, God. So what happened?"

"All I can think is this is it; I'm gonna be shot to death for sure. I rinse off my face, cover myself with my hands, but what's the use? I try to turn away, but there's nowhere to go. I'm trapped like a rat."

"Did he have a gun?"

"I'm getting to that," Harris says. "So, I'm looking at Tackleberry through the steam, trying to see if he's got a gun on him. Tackleberry and Jones are both looking at me, probably waiting to watch me piss myself. Then Tackleberry says, 'sorry to bother you, Sir, but I heard you had a remedial class.' I'm sure you remember that I used that class as an excuse to speak with you and Cadet Stetson about Callahan. I never actually scheduled a real remedial class."

I nodded. Where was he going with this?

"I said, yes, I do happen to have a remedial class—why do you ask? And he asks me if he can join in, get retrained to be less impulsive, less trigger-happy. I tell him that he's been a cop now for more than a decade; how's a single class gonna break his habit? Tackleberry looks like he's about to cry. He gets down on his knees with his hands together and realizes real fast that that wasn't his best idea—stands right back up. Pretty sure Cadet Thomas made some wrong assumptions as he left the showers."

"Oh boy. Was he right at the level of your—?"

"More or less. Would've looked even worse if I hadn't had my hands there. Anyway, so I tell him he can join the remedial class, which I now have to work into my schedule. He gives me a big stupid hug and gets himself all soapy and wet, and then you know what he asks me?"

"What?"

"He asks me, all polite-like, why my ass is red."

My eyes got wide. I knew very well why it was. Thaddeus was quite the fan of my… efforts, ever since I'd mock-arrested him the Sunday before he resigned as commandant. I had honestly figured that his interest in getting his ass smacked would fade, once the initial shock of it wore off, but it had not. And that was fine by me.

"What did you say?"

"Well, I look at Jones and I'm pretty sure he's got it figured out already, 'cause he's trying his damnedest not to laugh. I look around the showers; there's no one else to be seen. Tackleberry is standing there and waiting, expecting me to tell him. So I tell him that I've been very bad and that I had to learn my lesson the hard way."

"Oh my God; you really said that?!"

"Yeah, so Jones puts a hand to his mouth; he's cracking up, whole body shaking. Tackleberry still looks lost. Finally, Jones makes the sound of a whip. Close enough, I think. I never saw Tackleberry's eyes get so wide; he stared at me and I just nodded. He walked out of there like he'd seen a damn ghost."

"Wow, so you actually told them the truth."

"I did. And Jones, he's never looked at me the way he did as they were leaving. I could see he was amused as hell, but not at my expense, if that makes sense."

"That may very well be respect you saw there," I said. "Good for you."

"Yeah," he said, scooting over so that we were now hip-to-hip on the grass. He put his hand on my leg, patting it softly. "Good for me."

It was now the Sunday beginning our last week of the academy. Thaddeus and I were riding around in his Corvette when the radio announced that Larry Allen, my sister's fiancé, had officially been indicted for the theft of his own company's money.

"Wow," I said, looking over at Harris, who was driving. "This is huge. Do you think they'll cancel the wedding?"

"Guess it may be worth going to your place to check your answering machine."

"Eh, you still want to go?" I asked. "What if Larry figures out that you were the driving force behind this indictment?"

"Let him figure it out," Harris replied, as confident as ever. "I'd be more than happy to haul his ass to jail if he tries to screw with me."

I wasn't so sure about that. Most of the people at the wedding would be on Larry's side; after all, he was rich, and the kind of people that would be at this wedding would be like-minded. These were people who'd never been told no, people who had the kind of money to hire people who always said yes.

"Besides, you already bought that fantastic black dress; you gotta have a proper occasion to show it off," Harris added.

"I'm fine with returning it," I said. "It's too expensive, anyway, and the receipt says I have a two-week return win—"

"Nonsense," he cut in. "We're going. I insist."

I felt bad about going back to my apartment, which was mere blocks from where I'd gotten my first real job at the homeless shelter, a job I'd quit after only two days. My boss, Mr. Pepper, had predicted that I'd quit, and yet I had promised him I'd be back to volunteer soon. Instead, these past three weekends had been spent in the arms of Thaddeus as we enjoyed some peace and a total lack of media attention, now that he was back to being a police captain.

Thaddeus sat in the car outside my apartment as I went inside to check my answering machine. There was no message from anyone in my family. Well, there were still another six days until the wedding, plenty of time to cancel.

Monday arrived, the first day of the last week of the class of '95 police academy. Today was the day for our squadron to practice using objects in our vicinity as either weapons or shields, another element of Harris's non-firearm-related training. The gymnasium had been set up to resemble a department store, with several metal clothing racks filled up with sweatsuits and police uniforms on hangers. Another area had several large bins containing different items. There was a bin full of children's toys, a bin full of toiletries, and bins of VHS tapes, extension cords, flatware, and shoes. It was the oddest-looking store setup I'd ever seen. Our squadron stood around, scratching our heads, even though Harris had told us what we'd be doing.

"Alright, maggots, move it, move it, move it!" he shouted, waving us toward the clothing racks. Mullers and I walked toward the bins, and I grabbed a VHS tape. I looked at it to see that it was a beat-up police training tape.

"Now, remember, when you try to use these items, do not hit your fellow cadets full force! We want to practice blocking techniques first, which is defensive! Got it?!"

Stetson came toward me with a confused little smile, and in his hand he held a plastic child's bat. He raised his eyebrows as he slowly swung the bat towards me, which I blocked with my VHS tape.

"Good!" Harris exclaimed, striding up to Stetson and me. "Did you all get a look at that? Our criminal used the bat, and our cop used the tape!"

"How is this relevant to anything, Sir?" Fenster asked, raising a hand that was holding a toothbrush. "I mean—toiletries, really?"

"There may come a time that you are caught unarmed, and must defend yourself and others around you. A good judo chop to a toothpaste tube makes a hell of a burning projectile to the eyes, wouldn't you say?"

"I guess," Fenster muttered. He gave a mock thrust of the toothbrush in his hand towards Thomas Thomas, who blocked it with a shoe.

"That's just what I'm looking for," Harris said. "As cops, we don't have to be victims when we are off-duty. We can defend ourselves and can protect others around us."

Next, I picked up a butter knife from the flatware bin and gave a fake little lunge toward Mullers, who blocked my attack with a bottle of lotion. I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but Harris was so very excited by this exercise, that I somehow managed to swallow down my giggles for his sake.

"You can also do this with a butter knife, Carnegie," Harris said, taking the knife from my hand and sending it catapulting into a stuffed animal in the toy bin. Surprisingly, the force with which he'd thrown it caused it to be embedded in the teddy bear's back. "Now, you see; we don't need automatic weapons and tasers to do damage, or to protect ourselves from danger. Keep practicing. I'll be coming around to see just how creative you can be."

I saw Fenster using an extension cord as a kind of strangulation device on another cadet, until Harris jerked it away from him with a growl.

"This is best used as a restraint, or even a whip," Harris explained, rolling his eyes. "No need to kill people, Fenster."

Brookstone was holding a shoe by its shoelaces and swinging it around like a mace, getting a nod of approval from Harris. Stiner had taken a wire hanger and had twisted it around another wire hanger to make a kind of shield. The exercises continued for another half an hour, with several of us taking turns on how to quickly open toiletries so that they could be used as liquid projectiles. Harris had wisely told us not to actually open the bottles but to mimic doing so, because squirting lotion and shampoo everywhere would leave a hell of a slippery mess for the janitors to clean.

I'd been so focused on figuring out the next item to use, that I hadn't seen interim Commandant Mahoney come into the gymnasium. He stood a distance away from us, his arms crossed, a little smile on his face. Harris called us all back to attention again, pacing back and forth in front of us as he explained the next concept.

"You can also use items as distractions," Harris instructed. "Throwing an item away from you may get your would-be assailant to focus there, so you can regain the element of surprise." With that, Harris walked up behind Brookstone and mock-bludgeoned her with a pump bottle of lotion.

The exercises continued as before. The female A squad cadet whose name I could never remember had taken several VHS tapes and secured them tightly around her forearm with an extension cord and the tape inside one of the video cassettes.

"How about this, Captain Harris?" she asked, holding up her robot-like arm.

"That's a good effort, Henderson," Harris replied, "but it's more likely that you won't have time to assemble something that sophisticated. This exercise is more about split-second defense decisions— as in, protecting yourself right now, than it is about being the aggressor."

"Right, Sir."

Captain Harris went over to Stetson, who'd been launching forks into the same teddy bear that had been butter-knifed.

"Very good aim, Stetson. Impressive."

I had found a weak spot on the clothing rack and had managed to remove a large curved piece of metal from it; this was clearly the best tool to be made from these items. Harris turned away from Stetson and saw what I was holding.

"Did you get that off the rack?" he asked me. I smiled at the double meaning of the phrase before answering.

"Yes, Sir," I said, noticing that he was still trying to figure out how I'd managed to do that. "Was I not supposed to—?"

"No, that's the kind of thing I want to see. Nice going, Carnegie."

"Captain Harris," Mahoney said, and now Harris jerked involuntarily, caught off-guard. Apparently, he hadn't noticed Mahoney was here either.

"Commandant," Harris replied, turning abruptly to face his superior. I watched as he gave the taller man a little deferential bow of the head.

"This sure looks interesting, what you've done here," Mahoney began, gesturing at the store setup as he approached Harris. "I can't say I've seen anything like this before at the academy, but—"

"I'm sorry, Sir; I should have brought it up to you first," Harris cut in, clasping his hands behind his back, his head remaining bowed. "It's an exercise meant to help cadets use what's available around them, mostly for defensive purposes."

"I see."

"It had been one of the curricular changes I'd planned, but I didn't get the chance to actually implement it," Harris said with a shrug. "Pretty sure it would have been successful, but the last commandant was too busy being an asshole to make it happen."

Now Mahoney looked pleasantly surprised, and patted Harris good-naturedly on the back.

"Since when did you learn how to make fun of yourself?" Mahoney said. "Keep up the good work, Captain."

"…Of course, Sir."

Harris could only manage a close-mouthed smile as he replied, getting one more pat on the back before Mahoney headed back out of the gymnasium.

"Wow, impressive," I said, following Thaddeus back to his office following the exercise.

"What part?" he huffed, remaining at least one step ahead of me. Something seemed off about him, but I didn't understand why. His exercise had been well-received, and he'd impressed Commandant Mahoney.

I closed the office door behind me as Harris took a seat behind his desk. I looked around the office to see that Harris was still procrastinating hanging up his trophies, vintage weapons, and pictures. There were three big boxes that sat on the floor to the right of the desk containing these items.

"Well, for one, it looks like you really impressed Mahoney," I said, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. Harris's head was bowed as he looked across the desk at me. "That exercise was really interesting and really makes you think about things in a different way."

"Yeah."

Now I was alarmed.

"What's wrong?"

"Three weeks. My dream job lasted all of three weeks. You watch, after this interim period, Mahoney will give Callahan the commandant job. I'm sure you noticed how she joined another squadron when she came back. She'd been working with me in D squad for the better part of fifteen years." He shook his head with disappointment. "No sense of loyalty whatsoever."

"What are you saying? I thought you liked being the only instructor of our squadron."

"I do, but it's the principle of it. Not to mention what it means that Callahan voluntarily chose not to work alongside me for the rest of the academy. Yeah, if she gets the commandant position, I'm out on my ass."

"You don't know that for sure. What she did with Stetson was very inappropriate."

"And yet, that case is closed. I can't say I'd blame her if she did fire me; the woman hates me. They all hate me. Commissioner Hurst told me years ago that I may very well be the best man for the commandant job, but, unlike Lassard, I don't have the respect of my men. Sadly enough, I still don't, years later."

"But what about Tackleberry and Jones?" I said. "I wouldn't say that they hate you, after what you told me. I'm pretty sure Mahoney doesn't hate you, either."

"Yeah, well, Tackleberry don't matter anymore. He's done, as far as I'm concerned. Sure, he can try this remedial class, but I'm not gonna risk public safety just to have some trigger-happy sycophant at my beck and call."

I blinked with surprise. Harris had certainly come a long way in how he thought about who he wanted around him. Incompetent Lieutenant Proctor was back to being at precinct 19, and racist Sergeant Copeland had apparently been fired right after our phone call that Friday several weeks ago.

"But what about Lieutenant Hooks and Captain Hightower?" I asked. "You told me Hightower saved your life twice, so how—"

"Now, I've got no reason to hate Hightower, but he's got plenty of reason to hate me. As you'll recall, I booted him from the academy not once, but twice."

"I mean, you can always apologize to them," I said, shrugging. "It seemed to really affect Mahoney today, what you said."

"That may be so, but actions speak louder than—"

"Well, you already acted to bring them back," I interrupted. "Now you can tell them how much you appreciate them and how dismissing them was a mistake. But you gotta mean it. Don't just apologize because you think you need to do it; apologize because you're actually sorry for what you did."

Now Harris looked ill-at-ease.

"Well, what if it's both?"

I stood up.

"It's totally up to you," I said. "I'm going to go get some food in the cafeteria."

"Let's say I go on an apology tour, get everyone on my side, but if Callahan becomes commandant, I'm shit out of luck."

I shrugged.

"You could always apologize to her as well."

Now he was staring at me in disbelief.

"You gotta be kidding me."

On Monday night, I sat out in the hallway outside my room, hearing the grinding of Gertrude's stupid rock tumbler as I read a book on police procedure for an exam tomorrow. I couldn't wait to be done with the academy, not only to be finished with the exams and coursework, but so I wouldn't have to tolerate any more of this never-ending racket. Most nights I would rendezvous with Thaddeus and we'd go out to the pool house. Tonight I noticed that his car was gone from the lot; he'd apparently left campus. I was stuck in the dorm for the first time in weeks.

Several cadets walked by me as I sat in the hallway, a frown on my face.

"Gertrude at it again?" Stiner asked, getting her answer immediately. "Ugh, does she not realize how loud that thing is?"

"I've told her as nicely as I could, but I've been trying to stay away," I said. "I'm just so sick and tired of it. How did I get so unlucky to be the only cadet who has to share a room with a damn rock tumbler?"

"I take it you've been staying with Captain Harris in the meantime?" Stiner asked.

"Yeah," I said. "But he's not around tonight."

Henderson, the only female cadet from A squad, walked by, shaking her head at the noise coming from behind my closed door.

"Sorry, Carnegie," she said. "That sucks. Want me to tell her off?"

No," I said. "Last time I tried to tell her about it, she cried."

I couldn't even concentrate on my book. Harris had left campus for the night without even saying anything, so I had nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. I could try to sneak out to our little love nest in the pool house, but I decided against it; it was pouring outside and surprisingly cold for September. I was stuck in here with a need to study and no desire to get into it with Gertrude.

I meandered down the hallway, book in hand, and decided to go to the floor above to escape the noise. It was much quieter up on the third floor, and far cleaner. I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of any noise. Why had I not been lucky enough to get a room up here? I sat down in the hallway and opened my book back up.

"Carnegie," a voice said, and I looked up to see Captain Callahan standing in the hallway, sunglasses on even at this hour, her blonde hair out of its usual tight bun. She was crossing her arms, appearing to be confused. "What are you doing up here?"

So that was why it was quieter and cleaner up here; Callahan probably ensured that it was so, being as this was her floor.

"It's my roommate," I said. "She has this extremely loud hobby that she does every night. I can't take it."

"Then why haven't I seen you up here before?" Callahan interrupted.

"Because I don't come up here," I said curtly. No need for her to know I'd been spending nearly every weeknight these past few weeks in the pool house with Captain Harris.

"Why not?"

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

"Because I usually go somewhere else."

"Where?"

I sighed and closed my book, realizing Callahan hadn't yet moved. Apparently, she wasn't going to leave me alone; maybe I should just tell Gertrude off once and for all or throw that damn rock tumbler out the window. I stood up, keeping my eyes on the floor in front of me.

"It doesn't really matter anymore," I said, shaking my head. "I can go back downstairs, if you don't want me blocking the hallw—"

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Callahan asked. I lifted my head now, looking up at her with confusion. She was a surprisingly tall woman, even taller than Captain Harris, and her presence commanded respect. Callahan was no longer instructing D squad, so why did she care so much about me and my roommate situation? After all, the academy was almost finished for the year.

"Talk about what?" I asked, my voice breaking.

"Come on," she said, quickly striding to a door and opening it for me. "Let's talk."

I swallowed loudly as I walked into Captain Callahan's room. It was the same size as a cadet room, but had a set of large dumbbells on the floor. I'd expected the two twin beds to be pushed together to make a big bed, but they were not.

"Sit down, Carnegie," Callahan said, gesturing to the desk chair. I wasn't sure where this was going, and I couldn't read her expression behind her dark sunglasses. Taking a deep breath, I sat down on the chair, looking around the room to see any evidence that this was some kind of torrid love nest; nothing stuck out. Was this some kind of trap?

"Tell me about your roommate," Callahan said, taking a seat on the bed as I sat at the desk.

"Well, her name's Gertrude Piazza," I began. "She hasn't been a bad roommate, not at all. She's usually very quiet and keeps to herself. But then, about halfway through the academy, she got this rock tumbler, and so I end up staying away when she's running it. It's just so—"

"Let me stop you right there," Callahan interrupted, holding up a hand. "Where do you go to escape the noise?"

"It's the rock tumbler that's the problem, not where I go," I snapped back, irritation in my tone. "Gertrude told me that the thing just appeared at our door with her name on it and no return address. I figure someone around here must really hate me."

"Oh? And why do you think the rock tumbler has anything to do with you?" she asked sweetly enough.

Now I was getting angry. I'd had my suspicions that Callahan was the sender of the rock tumbler, and now she seemed to be settling in to enjoy interrogating me over where I would go whenever it was on.

"Well, for one, the rock tumbler came just as Harris was made commandant."

"But what does that have to do with you, exactly?" she asked, as innocently as she could manage. With that, she took off her sunglasses, staring at me intently. My vision was shaking now.

"Because I'm with him," I said. Callahan's eyes went wide; I guess she didn't expect me to be so blunt. I continued my rant. "I've been with him pretty much this whole time, and I think someone wanted me to have a good reason to leave my room and then be caught with him and get him dismissed as commandant."

Now Callahan was blinking with surprise.

"Caught with Commandant Harris?" she asked. "Though, surely he wouldn't risk such a thing, being in that position…."

"Well, either him or Cadet Stetson," I said, raising my eyebrows, my face hot. She leaned in at the mention of Stetson, the cadet she'd mistakenly tried to bed. I was at the point of no return now, and continued with my suspicions. "I know you all heard me that day on the shooting range with Connie Manson," I said. "I told everyone that Harris was my boyfriend. And yet, you still tried to get Stetson to fall for me when he told you he was gay. You gave Gertrude the rock tumbler, didn't you?"

Callahan's eyes went wide and her mouth opened slightly as she reacted to my accusation.

"You don't even have to say it," I continued, standing up. "There are only four days left, and I can deal with it. I don't care."

"Sit down," she growled.

Oh, shit. I sat back down, trembling with fear.

"Listen, Carnegie," Callahan began, leaning forward and speaking in an unnaturally quiet voice, "I've known Harris for years, and this year's academy is the first time I've been directly at odds with him. Now, I don't expect you to understand this, but through all our ups and downs, he and I have always had a healthy level of respect for each other. You can probably see where this is going."

"But the rock tumbler? Stetson?" I blurted.

"I'll get to that. As you well know, Commandant Lassard's fish died, and I was told that I'd been chosen to replace him, only for Lassard to change his mind at the last minute. Now, I would bet my ass that Harris had something to do with that."

I opened my mouth to interrupt her, but she held up a finger and continued her diatribe.

"Now, I know he said something about me, and the only thing I've ever done that could ding me with the brass is my penchant for occasionally enjoying the company of a male cadet. So, not only did Harris gloat about Lassard's decision to remain commandant, but then he openly cavorted with you, a cadet, in the meantime. Then Harris gets the commandant position. Does that seem fair to you?"

"Lassard didn't kill his fish," I blurted. "That's why he changed his mind. It had nothing to do with you."

Callahan looked at me suspiciously; would I have to explain how I knew that for sure? Perhaps I would just say that Harris and I were simply in Lassard's office for some other reason, but would that get Harris into trouble again?

"That's what I've been told, but I'm sorry; I don't believe it for a moment. Here's why: in little more than a month, I went from being considered for commandant to beingunder policeinvestigation. Tell me, how does something like that happen?" Callahan said, leaning back and shaking the hair out of her face.

"I mean, you know what happened between you and Stetson," I said, shrugging. Her frown grew as I continued speaking. "What I want to know is why you were trying so hard to hook Stetson up with me, of all people."

She seemed surprised that I knew about Stetson.

"Don't you see? You're Harris's main weakness, Carnegie. I figured if you can seduce a man like him, a man who is somehow neither attracted to me nor terrified of me, then you sure as hell can get that cadet to see the error of his ways."

I blinked several times, shocked at her admission.

"Not only that, but Cadet Stetson had a past with you—he was the one to rescue you from the pool that day. I admit, I did get your roommate the rock tumbler, thinking you'd find your way to Cadet Stetson in the meantime. I'll admit now that those weren't the best decisions I ever made." She followed her confession with a sheepish little shrug.

Now I was frowning, shocked that I had been correct in suspecting Callahan in the appearance of the noisy device at our door, as far-fetched as it had seemed. She continued explaining herself.

"I had figured on your being just as twisted and disloyal as I know Harris to be, but then… you weren't. And for that, I owe you my sincere apologies, Carnegie. You're absolutely nothing like him."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?!" I replied, frowning more deeply. "Thaddeus is a wonderful person and I love him. He cares about this academy and the officers it trains."

Callahan looked amused at what I was saying, but I continued speaking.

"Not only that, but he tries to do the right thing, even when it's not popular."

"Ha. Do you mean when he threw Tackleberry under the bus? You really don't know what Harris has been like, do you?" Callahan said, now chuckling and shaking her head. "I could tell you a thousand stories about the ridiculous overconfidence he has about everything he does, not to mention how he's stolen credit, abused his power, trusted the wrong people, made the wrong calls; you name it, he's done it."

"And yet, he owned up to everything that was dug up on him and chose to resign as commandant," I replied. "A job he said was his destiny."

"Believe me, I saw the whole thing on the news," Callahan said, sighing. "Really though, the ax was probably already on its way down."

"Maybe, but Thaddeus ultimately made that decision on his own. He held himself accountable, and that's more than I can say for you." I stood up, scowling down at Callahan, my textbook in hand. "You're wrong about him."

Now Captain Callahan was looking up at me with surprise, clearly taken aback by my forcefulness. I had nothing more to say to her. Would she yell at me to sit down again? I began to move past her, feeling her grab my hand.

"I can see that you're an innocent in all this, Carnegie, and I apologize again for all that you've had to go through," she said. "To you, Harris may seem to be a changed man, but mark my words, he has the long game in mind. I know damn well that he somehow extracted a story out of Stetson and then twisted it around, just to get me. I'm just warning you to be careful."

"No," I said, pulling her hand away. "That was all me. Stetson told me everything, and then I turned you in."

Callahan didn't even manage to get back onto her feet before I'd opened her door and left her room. Hadn't she seen the news about me? I was no innocent.

I decided to check the parking lot again for any sign of Captain Harris's car. I didn't really feel like seeing Gertrude cry, and I didn't feel like staying in the women's dorms to have Captain Callahan seek vengeance. I'd felt so justified in telling Captain Callahan off, but now I was reconsidering; it was possible that running my mouth would hurt me in the end. Commandant Mahoney was merely an interim commandant and they'd have to decide on a permanent replacement for next year's academy. Callahan could very well be considered in the running, and if she was commandant, there was little to no chance that I'd ever be hired as an instructor there.

It was now almost ten at night and raining lightly. I stood outside of the women's dorms upwind of some cadets smoking cigarettes, squinting over at the parking lot. There it was; Harris's car was back! But where was he? Would he be back in the men's dorm at this hour, or in his office? He hadn't told me he'd be going off-campus for the entire evening, but it was good to see that he was back now. I didn't feel like sitting outside of the pool house and getting soaking wet, so I decided to go back to my dorm room.

Thankfully, when I'd returned, Gertrude was finished polishing rocks. I lie down on my bed, stacking pillows behind my head as I read through the procedure book, underlining important passages. I must have fallen asleep at some point, because I had the most vivid dream of being shoved into a rock tumbler by Captain Callahan, rubbing up against Stetson as I screamed. My disappointment only grew from there, to find that I was still in my own dorm room the next morning and not in the little pool house love nest Harris had made for us. Where had he gone last night? Was everything alright?

"I—I'm not sure what to say, Sir," the tiny voice squeaked. "But I do appreciate your coming by to tell me." I couldn't help but hear the little voice as I headed down the hallway toward the cafeteria for breakfast. I turned the corner to see Lieutenant Hooks with her back to me, Captain Harris standing in front of her and speaking with her.

"I had to say it," Harris said, using his baton for emphasis. "I shouldn't have canned you and Hightower. Hell, I shouldn't even tease you for your voice, 'cause you always manage to shock the suspect when you go all out. I would even go so far as to say that your voice is your secret weapon."

"Thank you, Sir," she squeaked. "And I'm sorry as well. The pranks we pulled on you after you missed the press conference were totally out of line."

That was quite the revelation. Would he get angry now, and regret his apology?

"I, uh, appreciate that, Lieutenant," he said, bowing his head at her. I blinked with surprise, stopping in place several feet behind Hooks. Now Harris spotted me, and seemed to come out of his apologetic trance. He gave Lieutenant Hooks a little tight-lipped smile and a bow of the head and moved past her and towards me.

"Where were you yesterday evening?" I said, noticing that Harris retained a kind of cringing posture, his shoulders up near his ears. We strode over to an area devoid of cadets and instructors. "I saw that you returned to campus pretty late."

"Just some last-minute wedding shopping," he said. "Anyway, I shouldn't need to disappear again. I already bowed and scraped to Hightower today on my apology tour."

"Well, don't you bow and scrape to Callahan!" I snapped. "She admitted to trying to hook up Stetson and me because I am, quote, your weakness. She blamed you for her not only her not getting to be commandant after Birdie died and for the investigation. I told her that Lassard choosing to stay commandant had nothing to do with her, but she didn't believe me."

"Spiteful woman," he muttered, voice low. He was now angry, and shook his head with ire.

"I told her that I was the one to turn her in for Stetson."

Harris looked shocked, his eyes going wide at my revelation.

"What? You did?" He seemed at a loss for words. "How did you—we need to talk about this somewhere else."

"But what about breakfast?" I asked, gesturing at the cafeteria.

"I got some Pop Tarts in my office. You interested?"

I made a face. Harris liked Pop Tarts?

"Wedding shopping?" I squawked.

I had already blurted out what I'd learned about Captain Callahan, but now I needed to follow up on this wedding shopping spree of his; since when did Thaddeus Harris go shopping on a Monday night? We stood facing each other in his office, his blue curtains wide open to the sunny day outside. He'd since handed me a pack of frosted strawberry Pop Tarts; I'd pictured him to be more of a charcuterie board type.**

"And Pop Tarts? I can't picture you buying these."

"They're Proctor's," he said, gesturing dismissively. "It's a long, boring story. Now, as for the shopping, I can't very well wear the same outfit I wore to that engagement party," Harris said, looking affronted as he waved his baton around. "I've been told I look like a waiter in that getup."***

"I hope you didn't spend too much, and that you kept the tags on it," I replied. "I don't understand why you want to go to my sister's wedding so badly. They still may very well cancel."

"Nah. Mark my words; they won't cancel, not when the wedding is part of the plan," he said, grinning deviously. He leaned back on his desk, the very picture of confidence.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I've told you before that I have a sixth sense for crime, and I predict their gift box will be chock full of envelopes with anonymous best wishes and laundered cash."

I made a face of disgust at his statement, even though that first Pop Tart was pretty good.

"So that's why you want to go, to catch him in the act?" I exclaimed. "I mean, so what if there's laundered cash? You can't just confiscate it! You'd need a warrant, at least."

Harris sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Don't you think I know the proper protocol? I'm a police captain, after all."

"So, what, am I just some sort of distraction for you to then stick your hand into the—"

"Don't you think it's entirely possible that a wedding guest with blank envelopes of his own may, in fact, get a little too intoxicated on all that top-shelf liquor and uh, accidentally knock over that gift box?"

"Wait—that's your plan?! To pick up the wrong envelopes? No! Talk about improper police procedure!" I said, shaking my head. "You won't be able to use it as evidence if you don't—"

"Oh, right, so now you're some expert in police procedure," he huffed, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Fine," I said, lifting my hands up in frustration. "You know what? I don't want to go. I've made up my mind."

Now Harris looked both alarmed and devastated.

"C'mon, Carnegie," he said, his entire cocky demeanor disappearing. He stepped away from his desk and walked over to me, putting his hands on mine. "You'll get a chance to wear that dress and dance on your family's dime. Think of the Blue Oyster, but much more romantic than that and far less hairy."

"Yeah, well, it'll be a really hairy situation when you get caught with your hand in the gift box," I snorted.

"Alright, alright," he said, lifting his hands in surrender. "I won't go near the damn gift box, okay? Don't just chicken out on me."

"Chicken out? They're going to tear us apart. It'll be like their engagement party, but a hundred times worse!"

"I already told you; I won't let that happen."

I rolled my eyes. Maybe Callahan did have a point about Harris's ridiculous overconfidence.

*from PA5

**from PA4, in Harris's precinct office

***from PA5