Warning: Some mild language in this chapter.
Chapter 2: The Past That Haunts Us
Lucy
One Month later…
To say the last thirty days had been easy with Bradford's "Tim Tests" and brooding personality had been challenging was an understatement. As much as I hated to admit it, and as difficult as working with him could be, I had learned a lot from him in these last thirty days.
Not that Lopez and Harper weren't badass women in their own right, but I could tell how Bradford's quizzes here and there in the shop, or tests when we approached a scene or even a crime scene had me far more prepared than my colleagues John and Jackson. That was saying a lot, since Jackson over prepares thanks to his dad being the commander of I.A.
Today…today was a milestone and there was nothing that Tim Bradford could do to bring down my good mood.
"Damn, you are already packed and ready to go?" Jackson asked, just as I closed the trunk of our shop with our war gear tucked neatly inside and clipped my body camera in place.
"You know the wrath I would incur if I didn't," I replied.
Jackson snorted. "That is true."
John walked through the door, his war gear in hand. "Hey, good luck to you guys today."
"You too," I beamed.
I hustled from the Shop and back towards the briefing room, where Bradford was just wrapping up with Grey. Just like always, the man had the uncanny ability to immediately know when I walked in the room and my exact position in the room. Grey slapped him on the shoulder; Bradford nodding, before he exited the briefing room and made his way towards me.
I smiled. "Shop is packed and ready to go," I announced eagerly.
Bradford, as usual, just looked at me with an expression of 'And?' "What? Do you want me to praise you for doing your job?"
And just like that, he managed to already make me want to smack him. "No, I was just informing you, so we can get on the road. Go after the six BOLO's referenced in this morning's briefing."
Bradford stared at me for a moment, shook his head, and then started making his way towards our shop. "And this eagerness you have, that would have no bearing on today?"
"What? No," I answered too quickly.
Bradford raised his eyebrow at me questioningly, before walking towards the driver side of our shop and climbing in. I walked to my side and did the same.
"Ok, maybe it has a little bearing," I admitted, as Bradford turned the key into the ignition, the engine purring to life.
You think if you catch one of the six felony warrants from this morning that it will increase your chances?" he asked.
I know he was purposely trying to goad me into a response that would give him more ammunition, and ruin my good mood, but I wasn't going to let him.
"I don't think it could hurt," I said. I pulled the six pieces of paper I immediately printed from the computer after Grey finished the debrief and opened them onto my lap. "I mean listen to these felony warrants, drug dealing, assault, murder," I emphasized. "That has to be a good one."
"This isn't a game, Boot," Bradford chastised as he pulled onto the street and away from the precinct.
"I know that," I clapped back. "But you have to admit that this would be good experience and look good—"
"On your thirty-day evaluation," he guessed. He took his eyes from the road for a brief second to look at me. "What makes you even think you deserve a good evaluation?"
His comment shouldn't throw me through a loop, but it did. I slapped the papers on my lap. "I don't know, the fact that I have done everything you have asked of me and more. I treat all my complainant's, witnesses, and yes, even the suspect with the up most respect, and approach every situation with extreme caution and critical awareness," I replied, not even a little ashamed that I had that ready to go, anticipating Bradford would likely act this way.
"Oh?" Both his brows shot up in surprise. "Is that so?"
I scoffed. "You don't think I have?"
Bradford looked straight ahead. "I mean, I am a sadist, why would I think you would accomplish anything or be successful at being taught anything."
My mouth dropped open. All this time, my T.O. had heard me complain about him to John and Jackson almost a month ago. Just great! He held onto that comment for a full month before finally throwing it in my face. Now, there was no way I was going to get a good evaluation, and once Grey were to read it, it would put me further behind and stuck longer in these long sleeves in the hot, hot, sun.
"Well, you are," I grumbled, looking out the window, my good mood that I swore he was not going to ruin, officially ruined.
I could feel Bradford's eyes on me, but I didn't dare say another word. Besides, that was how he liked his shop. Full of nothing but silence.
"Alright, come on," he said after twenty minutes had passed with no conversation between us, and us covering a ton of ground with no obvious violations.
I looked away from the window and towards him. "Come on what?"
"We are going to go after one of the six felons. I have just the one in mind," he said.
I perked up, glad we were going to jump in on the opportunity. Regardless of what Bradford said earlier about my review, there was no way he wouldn't be able to give me some good remarks if we were able to secure a felon and it was done flawlessly.
"7-Adam-19, show us stopping at 'Quik Stop' convenience store off Wilshire for possible BOLO suspect," Bradford announced into his radio.
"Copy, 7-Adam-19, show you on scene," the dispatcher responded.
Bradford pulled into a parking space off to the side of the convenience store, that way anyone walking up to the store or passing by might not catch the fact that we were there.
"Which of the warrants are we looking for?" I asked, holding up the papers I printed out earlier.
Bradford turned off the ignition and looked at me with disappointment. "I thought you printed off the information for each of our suspects?"
"I did," I answered immediately.
"Then you should know the answer to the question," he said matter-of-factly, as he opened the door.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, shifting through the papers quickly until I recalled the two warrants for drug dealers. Of course, Bradford would want to go with the drug dealers. He just loved the fact that they almost either ran or became combative with us, usually making me the first to engage in dispatching them first.
"Wade Jones," I guessed, as I slid out of the car and shut it behind me, Bradford already at my side.
"A little behind the times, Boot," he answered.
I tried to swallow my annoyance. "This is his known territory. Where he meets with his lower-level dealers."
"Uh-huh," he answered sill unimpressed.
Bradford opened the door to the convenience store, allowing me to walk in first, the convenience counter just to our right with a teenager who couldn't be more than eighteen behind the counter.
I lifted the piece of paper from my vest and held it up to the bulletproof plexiglass separating me from him.
"I am looking for Wade Jones. Have you seen him?"
The kid didn't even look at the picture and instantly shook his head no. Not that I was surprised by his answer. Jones monitored, and for all intents and purposes owned this street. No one who didn't want to get beaten or end up dead would talk to the police.
"Look at the picture," I demanded.
I felt Bradford leave my presence as he started to walk down the aisles in front of us. I turned my body to angle it so I could keep my eye on the teenager but ensure that if Bradford needed me, I could immediately jump into action.
"I, no see him," the teenager answered again in a thick Spanish accent.
I sighed; realizing he wasn't going to give me anything anyway.
"He hasn't seen him Bradford," I called out.
I started making my way towards Bradford clocking another Hispanic male walking towards him with purpose. Bradford, who had already seen this as well, extended his arm and shoved the male in the chest against the cooler. I was at his side in seconds.
"Do we have a problem here?" Bradford asked.
The male's eyes opened wide, visibly intimidated by Bradford's hulking presence. "The b-boss wants to see you."
I looked from the male to Bradford. "Who's your boss?" I asked.
The male didn't even bother looking in my direction as he kept his focus directly on Bradford.
"Jones," the kid answered.
I turned my attention back towards Bradford. "Does Jones know you?"
It wasn't uncommon in our line of work that we have what is called 'frequent flyer,' criminals that no matter how many times we arrested them would come right back out and go right back to the same criminal activity that landed them in jail in the first place. What I didn't know was if Bradford's hunch in stopping here was just because of Jones's known hangouts or because of something more.
"Not particularly," Bradford replied, his eyes still focused on the trapped male in front of him. "Why is he asking for me?"
The male shrugged his shoulders, but did say, "I don't ask questions, boss said if we heard your name to take you to him right away."
"I don't like this," I said. "Maybe we should call for back up."
"No," the male said frantically. "No other cops or he hurt her."
That made Bradford and I both look at each other. Bradford shoved him again at the chest into the cooler, a little bit harder this time, making the kid groan in pain.
"Hurt, who?" Bradford asked.
The kid started to shake his head when Bradford gripped him by the shirt, ready to shove him again when he said, "I don't know. I don't know. Please…"
Bradford released the kid, issuing a warning to stay put as he grabbed my arm and walked us a little away out of hearing distance from him.
"What do you think?" he asked.
I looked over at the kid and then back to Bradford. "I don't know. What if it is a trap? And why you?"
Bradford let out along exhale. "I don't know, but if there is a chance that he's holding someone hostage and we don't do as he asks, we could be putting her life in jeopardy."
"Or walking to our death," I countered.
"What do you think we should do here, Boot?"
I didn't know if this was another one of his tests. The responsible thing to do would be to call it in and ensure we have the proper back up, but then there was the other aspect of going with the information you have and making a sound decision in the moment. The part that I couldn't get out of my head was if there was someone being held hostage and hurt because we didn't comply with his demands, I know I couldn't live with that and I was pretty sure Bradford couldn't either.
I let out a breath. "I think we should call it in. It's sounding more like a hostage negotiation situation, which we're not tactically trained for."
Bradford looked at me and then the kid who had not moved from the spot. He had left him at and nodded. "Good, Boot, I agree."
Bradford turned around to the kid, grabbing hold of his arm. "You're coming with us."
The kid started to protest, trying to remove Bradford's hand from his wrist, but to no avail. Bradford and I managed to drag the kid just outside of the convenient store when he uttered one single word that made Bradford freeze in a manner I had never seen before.
"Isabel."
Bradford turned suddenly, slamming the kid up against the wall, more forcefully than he needed too. "What did you just say to me?"
I was at his side in my hand on his shoulder that he instantly brushed off. "Hey, take it easy," I warned.
"Stay out of this, Boot," he shot back. He turned back to the kid. "Where did you hear that name?"
The kid winced. "I already told you, Jones."
Bradford studied him silently for a moment, before he let him go. "Take me to him," he demanded.
"Hey, hold on there a second," I interjected. "What happened to calling this in and waiting for back up?"
Bradford lowered his voice, so the kid couldn't hear him as he turned to me. "It's different now," he replied cryptically. "If you want, go back to the shop and you can wait for me there."
I shook my head emphatically. "Not a chance," I protested. "I'm not leaving you alone with no back up."
He nodded; but before I could say anything further, he snapped at the kid to take him to wherever this Jones was that was waiting for Bradford. The kid informed us that Jones was just held up at a motel right down the street from the convenience store and would take us to him.
I was rather annoyed with my T.O. who knew I had more questions than answers he wanted to give, but I made sure to stay in step with the kid so I couldn't find out who this Isabel was and why he suddenly was willing to forgo protocol and safety concerns to get to her.
The motel was certainly catered towards pay by the hour clientele. It wasn't uncommon for us to normally come away empty-handed, whenever trying to locate a suspect, since the motel didn't really keep detailed identification on any of its questionable guests.
As Bradford and I followed behind the kid climbing up the steps, both of our hands settled on our weapons belt, ready to pull our piece in a second's notice.
We must've passed four or five motel doors before the kid stopped at the end of the row at door number thirteen.
"Yeah!" a voice on the other and hollered as soon as the kid knocked on the door.
As soon as the door opened; Bradford shoved the kid inside his weapon, drawn directly at who we confirmed was in fact Jones.
Jones stared down the barrel of both of our weapons pointed at him, looking from me back to Bradford, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He didn't even seem phased by the fact that two police officers were there to meet with him. especially for having an open felony warrant.
"Tim Bradford?" Jones gruff voice asked.
I took a quick glance away from Jones, surprised I had not seen any other person in the room with us. Normally higher up dealers like Jones would have a few of his men there to act as his bodyguards. The earlier worry that this was a set up was starting to be proven true, until I saw the outline of a white sneaker just at the end of the bed poking out.
"Bradford," I whispered, focusing my attention back on Jones, angling my head in the direction of the evidence I had just seen.
The only confirmation that he had heard me was the simple movement of his eye through his peripheral vision in my direction, as he turned his head in the opposite direction, I had just looked seeing the same evidence.
Even though he didn't drop his gun, he instantly made movement towards the opposite end of the room where the outline of the sneaker lay. Jones made a movement to step forward, but I did the same lifting my weapon, so he saw it thrusted right in front of his face.
"Don't take another step," I warned.
I could hear the pain in Bradford's voice the moment he uttered Isabel's name as he dropped his weapon back into his holster and knelt down beside the bed where she was laying.
I noticed Jones's nod to the kid, who instantly reached out and picked up a gun to the left of the table near Jones, currently making it two on one. I kept my gun on the greater of the two threats in front of me—Jones—sneering at the kid. A quick glance towards Bradford told me he was too preoccupied with whoever this Isabel was.
"Isabel, wake up," Bradford cried.
He repeated the command two more times, before I heard a small whimper and then "Tim" before Bradford started to shake her again.
"That's enough!" Jones exclaimed. "You see she is still alive."
Bradford shot to his feet, his gun back out and pointed at Jones, a quick glance in my direction, a silent message he was back in the game, while I focused my weapon on the shaky kid that I was sure was not any sort of muscle in the group by the way he held his pistol.
"What did you do to her?" Bradford demanded.
Jones laughed. "Me? Ese, you best back up with your tone against me. I am the only reason the bitch is even still alive."
Bradford growled, taking a step forward. I moved closer, positioning myself just in front of him so he didn't lunge for Jones. It was clear whatever was going on was on a personal level.
"What do you want?" Bradford snapped.
"I want the money she owes me," he said.
"Money?" I questioned. "For what?"
"Product, Chica," Jones answered looking at me. "The bitch has been sampling my product a little too freely and not paying."
"Call her that one more time," Bradford warned.
It was clear I had to be the levelheaded one between the two of them, the palpable tension so thick in the room.
"How much does she owe?" I asked.
"Four hundred," Jones said. "Plus, another two hundred for room and board for the last week."
"You're not getting any money," Bradford quickly shot down.
Jones snarled. "Then you can leave, and she can die. No payment, she isn't leaving. She made an oath it would be paid. She said you would pay it."
Bradford cursed under his breath. I knew enough that regardless of if we were cops, if an oath was made and not fulfilled, it would not end here. A violation of an oath in the drug world signed your death warrant, one that would not stop until she was dead.
"I don't care about your oath. What do you want to bet you have a record a mile long, which means you're in violation with having weapons in this room. Not to mention the number of drugs I am sure we will find in here. That is enough to put you away for years if not longer," Bradford threatened.
Jones smiled, clearly not even phased. "And another will take my place. You, the coked-out junkie, and her will all be dead. Is that what you want?"
I could see it written on Bradford's face. We were cops. We didn't negotiate with criminals and we sure as hell didn't let them get away with crimes or attempt to blackmail us. It has only been a month, but Bradford was one of the most standup, ethical, people I knew. The waging war on his face told me that.
I stepped forward before Bradford could, working purely on instinct at this point. I lowered my gun so that it rested in front of my stomach, hoping it might help my play.
"Let's make a trade," I offered.
I could see the surprise in Bradford's expression and the interest in Jones.
"What kind of trade, Chica?" Jones asked.
"You have several felonies warrants as it is. Warrants that will surely put you away for additional years, even with the best lawyer," I explained.
Jones grinned. "And I still get out."
"Not this time," I replied, shaking my head. "Your history, current warrants, and everything else that will be added once we process you and take you in from this room, you're done for, and you know it."
Some of Jones bravado melted from his face understanding the truth of my words.
I pushed on. "Let's us take the girl, and consider her debt paid and we walk out of here and don't make any movement towards you for twenty-four hours," I proposed. "That gives you plenty of time for escape and to get rid of whatever product you have in here."
"Boot."
I didn't even bother to look at Bradford. It was clear no matter how much he tried; he was compromised in this situation.
Jones chuckled. "Or me and Jose here can just kill you and still have the twenty-four hours."
The kid-Jose—turned pale white at thinking of having to engage in a gun fight with the police. He had to know that killing a police officer-not one, but two- would mean that his life was over before it even began.
"The fact that you think that doesn't tell me you're smart," I remarked. "Jose is ready to wet himself over here, and Officer Bradford doesn't miss. You think it was by accident that Isabel brought him here to meet you?"
Jones grinned. "And you?"
I hardened my gaze. "I don't think you want to find out how capable I am with or without my gun."
Jones started speaking in Spanish to Jose. I listened intently, schooling my expression so he didn't figure out that I understood everything he was saying. My complexion and features leaned heavily on the Asian side, so it wasn't surprising that he didn't think I could speak the language.
Jones was asking Jose where his men were and how far from the motel, they were to back him up. Jose replied they were all out on deliveries and the closest back up being at least twenty minutes out. Their exchange turned towards the product in the room, which if my math had me correct, he had a whole additional amount here to tact on another felony. We clearly held the cards in this deal.
Jones's tone turned harsher, his decision moving towards wanting to fight Bradford and myself. If that happened, there would likely be injuries and even death, and there was a real possibility that Bradford and I might not be able to escape with whoever this Isabel was.
I figured now was a good as time as any. "It's a solid deal. You would be stupid to pass this up," I said in Spanish.
Jones's shrewd eyes looked over at me, having realized I now knew everything he had just said to Jose.
"You are getting on my last nerve, Chica."
I shrugged my shoulders as if I didn't care. "Take the deal," I repeated. "Twenty-four hours and no cop will touch you. Or take a chance at your rookie over here being any help to you and Bradford and I will put you down."
"You have a lot of cojones, Chica," commented Jones.
"I'll take that as a compliment. Do. We. Have. A. Deal?" I asked slowly.
Jones looked from me to Bradford and the other side of the room where Isabel still laid unmoving.
"Deal. Take her and go," Jones agreed.
Bradford looked at me and I nodded. He holstered his gun, while I kept mine leveled at Jones. I wasn't going to trust him until we were clear of this room and any danger.
I waited until Bradford picked up the unconscious Isabel in his arms, moving as he passed behind me. As he moved towards the door; I followed, never taking my eyes or weapon off of Jose or Jones.
"We'll meet again, Chica," said Jones.
I took the last step out of the room and shut the door; my gun still drawn as Bradford was already halfway down the first flight of stairs. Once we were out of view, Bradford laid Isabel back down on the ground, reaching for a pulse, and letting out a soft exhale when he found one.
"Call an ambulance," he exclaimed.
"Already on it," I said, as I spoke through my radio. "7-Adam-19, we need an R.A. for an overdose female at Wilshire and 'Sleep' motel. Code 4."
"Come on," Bradford coaxed, kneeling at Isabel's side and massaging her chest in an attempt to wake her up. "Wake up, damn it!"
I held my breath, a little relief as the distant sounds of the sirens were finally heard as they approached our direction.
I looked back to Bradford whose expression turned more frantic as he continued massaging her chest and repeating his demand for her to wake up.
Just as the ambulance turned the corner, the petite blonde female coughed, grimaced, and moaned. Bradford, let out a sigh of relief, pulling Isabel to his chest as he held her tightly.
Feeling I needed to give him a moment of privacy, I walked over to the ambulance just as it stopped, quickly telling the first responder what we knew and how long she seemed unconscious.
It took Bradford another minute to finally release Isabel so the first responders could stabilize her and get her loaded into the back of the ambulance.
"We'll meet you at the hospital," Bradford told the lead first responder, as they shut the doors, hopped back in, and flipped on their lights and sirens to head towards the hospital.
I stood there; watching in silence as Bradford's gaze stayed with the ambulance until it was finally out of sight. When he turned to face me, it was as if he was finally seeing me, remembering that I had actually been here the whole time.
"Let's go," he said walking to the car.
I followed; but if he thought he was getting out of telling me what the hell just happened back in that motel room, that wasn't going to happen, T.O. or not.
"What the hell was that?" I asked, once we were both seated back in the shop, buckling our seatbelts.
"It's nothing," he replied automatically.
Now I was fuming. I grabbed hold of his arm as he grabbed the wheel and stopped him from being able to drive away, forcing him to look back at me.
"That was not nothing," I argued. "Who is Isabel?"
He looked at me with that hard stare of his, the same hard stare he gave me on day one that said he meant business when he didn't want to hear about personal information in the shop. I equally met his gaze not relenting this time.
"Look, I don't want to talk about it. I appreciate what you did—"
"No!" I interjected, not even letting him finish trying to blow me off. "You owe me. As soon as you stepped in that room, you stopped being a T.O. and you stopped being a police officer. I want to know why."
We stared each other down, before he sighed and nodded. "Her name is Isabel Bradford," he confessed.
I didn't know much about Bradford, in fact, now that I thought about it, I didn't know anything since he always kept himself closed off. Based on what I had seen, she had to be someone he deeply cared about. My first thought was she was his sister…
"She was my wife," he said, cutting me off from my own internal thoughts.
I swallowed. "Oh."
It wasn't hard to miss the was part of that statement. He was trying so hard to mask the crushed look on his face. The way he acted, the way he looked right now, it didn't match the kind of emotions of a past relationship. He looked like a man that was still deeply in love with his wife.
"When was the last time you saw her?" I asked.
He swallowed, his head looking straight ahead to avoid having to look at me. "Over a year ago," he answered.
"A year?" I asked incredulously.
I suddenly felt bad having forced him to tell me even though I still felt I was owed an explanation. It gave me just a bit more insight into why I figured he was as closed off and had an hardened exterior as he did.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely.
"Don't worry about it," he said gruffly.
Just like that he was back to the Bradford I was used to before it all happened. A carefully, calm, collected, expression back in its place.
The entire drive over to the hospital was met with silence. I spent most of the drive looking out the window wondering what married life must have been like for Bradford and what the hell had gone wrong. How did Isabel Bradford end up being a bonafide junkie?
Bradford didn't even wait once the car was parked, and I made sure to give him some distance as we entered the hospital. As soon as the nurse gave him the information, he didn't even look back as he moved swiftly down the hall to the room the nurse indicated Isabel would be set up in.
I watched as Bradford turned the corner and out of my view. I toyed whether to just give him space or follow. As mad as I was with him, the softer part of me couldn't help but hurt for him too. I wondered if anyone at the precinct ever got to see this side of him. If I had to guess, that was a flat-out no.
Despite everything, Bradford needed someone. He was so focused on his—what I assumed was his ex-wife—that no one was looking out for him.
My feet were moving in the direction, before I could stop them, my decision already made. He might not need or want me there, but I was going to be there anyway. Because that is what a good partner does.
Tim
I sat in the chair, trying to think of the last time I found myself in this similar situation. The last time I had been scared out of my mind and equally pissed off at the same time.
I lifted my head, the steady beep of Isabel's machines the only sound filling of the space as she slept from her recent O.D. This was the third I knew about, only trying to imagine what the last year was like not knowing.
The sound of the sheets ruffled, Isabel's legs and body stretching as she slowly fluttered her eyes opened. She looked up and around until she finally looked in my direction, seeing me for the first time. Actually, seeing me, since I was certain the two times, she woke up earlier she wasn't in her right mind to know I was there.
She pushed her greasy, stringy hair from her face, making the dark circles under her eyes more pronounced. Thanks to the constant fluids they were pumping her with, she skin tone warmed from death pale white to a somewhat normal color.
She looked away, instantly pushing herself up on the bed to a sitting position. Like any junkie, true junkie, she tried to hide the marks on her wrist and forearms for all of the time she spent shooting up.
"Tim," she said, my name coming out all raspy and gruff. "What are you doing here?"
Her question was more accusatory, as if I didn't have a right to be there. As if I was somehow the problem, an inconvenience being present in her life right now.
I was on my feet, trying my best to pull back the anger, worry, hurt…shit—every imaginable emotion you could think of as I faced the opening of her hospital room, rubbing my hand down my face. She didn't get it. She still didn't get how selfish she was being.
"You don't remember?" I asked in an eerily calm voice still looking at the opening of the room, even though I could see her reflection in the glass of the picture frame hanging on the wall.
"I'm not sure. There's a lot going on," she said defensively.
Deflecting as usual. What a junkie always did instead of taking accountability for their actions. It was why someone like her took the drugs to begin with. She didn't want to have to feel or remember.
I turned to face her now. "You O.D…again," I reminded her.
She looked at me for a moment, before looking away. "It won't happen again," she muttered.
Another broken promise. Countless times I heard her say she wouldn't let it happen again or get clean…all just lip service to get me off her back and away from the conversation. Away from facing reality and her decisions in her life.
I scoffed. "Yeah, of course it won't. It's not like I haven't heard that before."
Her eyes snapped to me with a fire in them, a fire I hadn't seen a long time. Not since I had first met her, and she first started her U.C. work.
"Where do you come off? I am not your responsibility anymore. I don't need you to come and run and save me."
I was losing my patience. "Yeah? Then why did you tell the dealer that you've been taking product from and living in his hotel room, that I would?"
She opened her mouth and then closed it. She might be a junkie, but the Isabel I once knew was still buried down deep in there. Hidden and trapped, but the smart, tenacious, cop I once knew still existed and it killed me that she was trying so hard to snuff her out.
"You tell me you don't want me to be your white knight. You tell me that you don't want me, that I mean nothing to you, but then you keep pulling me back for me to save you. Why?"
"I—I…"
"Why?" I snapped. "I loved you. I loved you more than anything. More than the job. I would have done anything for you." I paused, now that some of the anger released out of me. Now, I only felt shame. "Apparently, I would still do anything for you, even when you don't want me anymore. You remember that. Right, Is?"
"Of course, I remember. I am the one that ended it," she exclaimed, her voice breaking a bit.
"You didn't want our life, you didn't want your job, our marriage, but suddenly this is what you needed?" I pushed, thinking about how I found her there, unconscious and near death on the floor of a dirty motel room.
"You made your point. It won't happen again. Now, leave!" She cried pointing to the door.
I made no movement to go. "You don't get to throw me out. You're in my world now. I haven't seen you for a year. I didn't know if you were alive or dead, laying somewhere in a gutter for me to find. The first time I hear anything, it's for you to use me to pay your debts with your dealer. You used me, and in the process, you used our former relationship and my past feelings for you to have me put my own Boot's life in jeopardy. Now, I want answers!"
"I don't have any answers!"
She was panting, her eyes watering, as she tugged at her hair. She had been so drugged up, her body was starting to shake from coming down from the high and having withdrawals. This was always the worst for the junkie, and seeing how bad she was when Chen and I arrived at the motel, she was going to get released as soon as she could, go and get high again. It was always the most dangerous part, since they are so desperate for the high and to stop the aches and pains, that they stood a greater chance of O.D. and dying.
"You wanted me to let you go, Is, and I did. It was the hardest fucking thing I have ever done, but I did."
Her lower lip trembled. "I know," she said softly.
I never showed any emotion, but Isabel, she was the first time I ever cared to love something other than my job or myself. The water behind my eyes started to form. How the hell did I find myself back in this same position? I walked away. I told myself that I wouldn't find myself back here, and yet here I was in the same situation, same fight, and the same outcome.
The worst part was the shame I was feeling because I allowed our history to cloud my job as a T.O. I put Chen's life in jeopardy for my own needs and for Isabel's.
"I can't do this anymore," I said hearing the finality in my voice that I never heard before.
"I am not asking you too," she replied. "I walked away so you didn't have too."
I shook my head. "No, you took the coward's way out. Instead of fighting for me and our marriage, like I tried to fight for you, you just walked away."
"We, all can't be like you, Tim," she said bitterly, as if having a moral compass was a bad thing. It used to be the one thing she loved most about me. The reason she fell in love with me in the first place. Now, she was content on using it against me.
"I am done being your punching bag, Is." I rested my hands on my gun belt and shoved back my emotions. "You need help. I hope this was enough of a wakeup call and you will finally take the opportunity to get the help that you need. But I can't be here for you any longer. I'm done."
Isabel looked up at me, a mixture of sadness and loss on her face. I think we both knew in that moment, no matter how many times we had said it before, we always walked away with the hope that there could be a chance in the future. That we could try and get past this and get back to where we used to be. I was finally awake now. My eyes were wide open.
Sometimes, in life…some things can never go back to the way they used to be.
"Then I guess we have nothing else left to say to each other," she replied stubbornly.
I swallowed, pressing my lips together. "Yeah, I guess we don't."
I took one last look at my ex-wife and the life I once led and loved and turned and walked out of the room.
Lucy
Bradford swallowed, pressing his lips together. "Yeah, I guess we don't," he said.
I hadn't planned on eavesdropping on their conversation, but once they started, I couldn't stop. I was right to come after him. He sounded so hurt and looked so broken. Someone needed to look out for him.
"Officer Chen!"
I jumped; managing to hold in the squeak threatening to escape my lips, as I turned to see a pissed off Lopez looking at me.
How did she know we were here?
"A word," she said more as a command than a request.
"Of course," I complied, stepping away from the door, knowing I had been caught red handed.
"Let's take a walk," Lopez suggested, even though I knew it was not in fact a suggestion.
As we moved away from the hall and Isabel's room, I was the first to start the conversation. "How did you know that we were here?" I asked.
She glanced at me as we continued walking, probably debating on whether to share this piece of information, but then sighed and explained, "Tim called me. He asked me to look after you."
I shook my head. "I don't need anyone to look after me," I said.
"That is not what Tim, or I meant. If you tell anyone or him that I said this…" She looked at me with a warning look that said I would be doing body cavity searches for the foreseeable future. I nodded. "He feels guilty, for having put you in the situation he did today."
My hands rested on my gun belt. "Can't say it was one of the more exciting patrol days." As we approached an alcove at the end of the hall, I stopped us and decided to rip off the band aid of the elephant in the room. "Bradford told me that Isabel was his wife," I admitted.
Lopez nodded. "She was."
"How long were they married?"
"Two years. Although, it didn't really feel like that."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I assumed from what you heard when you were not eavesdropping, that Isabel was a cop," said Lopez.
"I was a little surprised at making that connection," I admitted.
"Once they got engaged, Isabel went from patrol to U.C. school. Isabel never really liked patrol like Tim does. Anyway, they spent most of their engagement apart while she did schooling and worked smaller U.C. assignments," she explained, stopping until a doctor and a nurse passed us. "Right after they got married, she went on her first assignment."
"Was that what started all of this?" I asked.
Lopez shook her head. "Not right away. Isabel was a damn good cop. She knew it and so did her superiors. So, she started taking some more serious cases, that required deeper covers and longer assignment times away from Tim." She sighed. "That is when she started using."
"And…Bradford…he didn't suspect?" I asked surprised.
"It's not easy living with someone who works U.C. They're gone all the time, and they have to be secretive to not impact the mission or put the ones they love in danger. It's not uncommon for long assignments for a cop to be completely drained and to want to crash. When Isabel stopped coming home, Tim started to dig and that was when he found out that Isabel had been taken off the last case, she had over four months ago."
"Wow…"
"Tim had a friend in narcotics who pulled the file. Isabel had lied to him and kept him in the dark. She had been reprimanded several times for not meeting deadlines and the final straw, had been withholding information on the op so the drug dealer she had started to become attached too wouldn't get put away," Lopez continued.
I could see the devastation in her expression too.
"She was your friend too," I guessed.
Lopez pressed her lips together and then nodded. "Yeah," she exhaled. "You know, it's not uncommon for a U.C. officer to get in a little too deep, but Isabel, she turned her back on herself and everything she stood for."
"Because of the drugs?" I clarified.
Lopez met my gaze with a wounded expression that already told me the answer before she even had to utter it.
"Not just the drugs. She purposely double crossed her investigation and started to throw evidence and then finally made her dealer aware of any movements the department was going to make so he was always one step ahead of us," she disclosed.
"And that's how she lost her job," I said putting the final pieces together.
Lopez sucked in a breath. "Once she was let go and could no longer be useful to her dealer anymore, the perks of unlimited drugs stopped and they beat her so bad before dumping her body in a dumpster, that she was mere minutes from almost dying."
"How did they find her?" I asked. Lopez's eyes told me that answer, and I gasped. "No."
She nodded. "Nicholas Calderon dumped her body in an area that Tim always covered. It was a big 'F' you to him and the cops."
Nicholas Calderon's name was synonymous in the drug world. Every cop knew of him, especially in California, because that was the home base of his operations. In the last few years, he had expanded his operations internationally. He was on everyone's top list to bring down, but almost no one ever got close.
Now, I knew why. He had a cop as an informant for a good period of time. He knew our methods and tactics and even more knew the inner workings of the law and how to get around them.
"I can't imagine Bradford let that go," I speculated.
"You would be right. Tim spent the next couple months after that trying to make Calderon's operation and life a living hell. He made it his life mission to bag every low-level dealer he could." Lopez grimaced. "He almost lost his life because of it."
"What made him stop?" I asked.
There was one thing I knew about Bradford. When he had his sights set on something, he didn't back down. He would never back down from a challenge, and if someone went after him or someone he cared about—in this case Isabel— he would keep going until that wrong was righted.
"Isabel left him." Lopez's look and tone turned to anger now at her former friend. "Despite everything that Isabel had done, although that she had betrayed him, Tim still stuck by her side. The only thing he wanted was for her to choose him."
My face fell. "And she didn't," I said sadly.
"No, she didn't," Lopez replied. "But Tim still loved her. I think a part of him always hoped that maybe one day she will just wake up from this nightmare and return to him. I knew that wasn't gonna be the case. So, I had to start protecting my friend."
"That couldn't have been easy," I uttered.
"No, it wasn't," she agreed. "There were times that I really thought I was going to lose him too, but luckily, I didn't. He's worked so hard to come back to that man he has always been. I know this is still hard for him, but he was finally moving on with his life. Accepting that it is what it is and there's no going back."
"And you're afraid that what happened here today is going to pull him right back?" I predicted.
"I hope not," Lopez said. "But then he told me what he did today and how he disregarded his responsibilities as a T.O. and your safety, and…"
"I'm not going to report him," I cut in quickly, hearing the concern in her voice.
For the first time since our conversation started, Lopez smiled. "I know," she said sincerely. "It is the only reason I am even telling you any of this. Which, by the way, we never spoke about this. I hate that I feel like I am betraying Tim, but I feel like I can trust you. No, I know that I can trust you to look out for Tim."
I nodded my head emphatically. "Yes, of course." I clenched my jaw. "I won't let him spiral," I affirmed.
"I know that too," Lopez said.
"Thank you for sharing this with me. And if it helps matters, I really believe this time Tim is walking away."
Lopez nodded. "Come on, Boot. Today is an important day for you as well. Let's finish what you still have left of your shift."
"And Bradford?" I asked, looking down the hall that led to Isabel's room.
"He'll be ok. But he needs some space to process," she said.
The feeling to just leave Bradford felt so wrong, but I had to trust that as his best friend, Lopez knew what was best for him. That was the only reason, I was standing up and following her out of the hospital.
"Those faces tell me that your evaluations had to be good," I said, once John, Jackson, and I changed out of our clothes and walked out of the locker rooms.
"All in all, considering these past thirty days, I am just glad I still have a job," John said.
"Same," Jackson agreed. "I thought the moment that Lopez saw me freeze the first time we got into a gun fight, I was never going to be a cop again."
John wrapped his arm around his shoulder. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. You're a good cop. Besides, can't be any worse than having the department's highest property and equipment damage totals."
I grimaced. "Yeah, that is pretty bad," I agreed.
John and Jackson turned their gazes to me. "Yeah, and what about you? What did your evaluation say?"
I tried not to let my disappointment show. "It's been a hectic day," I replied evasively.
John and Jackson's faces turned sympathetic. "Yeah, we heard Officer Bradford had some personal connection to one of your calls today. Is he ok?"
"He'll be fine," I said automatically, that protective instinct from before already forefront.
"Well, if you need anything, let us know. We don't mind sharing our T.O.'s," said Jackson.
I laughed. "Right. Anything to get the attention away from you," I joked.
While we had planned to get drinks to celebrate, I wasn't much in a mood to celebrate after the emotional drama for the day. I left John and Jackson as I started to make my way to the parking lot. As I got off the elevator, Bradford was there, waiting for me by my car.
"Officer Bradford," I said, failing at disguising my surprise.
"Boot."
He was in grey muscle shirt, jeans, and sneakers as he stood before me, with a manila folder clasped in his hands.
"What are you doing here?" I asked. "I thought you left for the day."
"I'm a cop and I have a job to do," he answered in that infuriating obvious answer that he knows I hate.
"That's not—"
"I know what you meant," he said.
There was a beat of silence between us.
"Um, how…how—" I looked around first before I added, "—how is Isabel?"
His shrug at an attempt to act as if he didn't care, didn't make his answer any more believable.
"Alive and hopefully will get the help she needs."
"Yeah."
"Anyway, that's not why I am here," he said, suddenly raising his hand with the manila folder and extended it to me.
"What is this?" I asked.
He let out an exasperated sigh. "Boot, can you just take the damn thing without always having to ask a question."
"Alright, alright," I said, taking the folder from his hand.
"It's your evaluation," he answered anyway.
I looked up in bewilderment. "You wrote my evaluation?"
"I am your T.O," he said matter-of-factly.
I shot him a pointed look. "I know…I just thought with a day like today…"
"That I would fail you a second time," he guessed.
My eyes opened wide. "You didn't fail me."
"Listen, Chen—"
"No." I took a step forward. "Listen, I am not going to pretend that today wasn't a little scary and unconventional, but I know and believe that deep down, if things had gotten bad, you would have my back." His eyes met mine and held, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Look, I know I am just your Boot, and not your partner, but I want you to know, that I have your six. And I am not going to say a word about any of this."
He swallowed. "You should," he replied gruffly.
I licked my lips. "With all due respect, sir, then I would lose my pain in the ass, T.O., and despite what happened today—and I can't believe I am going to say this—I think I learn and work best under your teaching methods," I confessed.
It was the first smile I saw since this morning. "It's my job, Boot. And I am not surprised. I am the best you will have ever trained with."
I rolled my eyes. The internal part of me was glad to see some of the light teasing returned, and the spark in those blue eyes of his.
"And on that note," I said, holding up the file. "How much of what I am about to read is going to say I am a crappy Boot, and should I even expect to have a job in the morning?"
Bradford took a step forward. "Here is your final lesson for the night, Boot. Don't let anyone—anyone—make you believe you are less than you are."
The conviction and the hardness to his stare left me speechless, giving him just a nod as my answer.
He stepped back and offered me another smile. "Goodnight, Boot. Enjoy that evaluation," he said, his voice taunting as, before turning and walking away.
As soon as he was out of ear shot, I ripped open the evaluation and read the entire thing and then read it again as a smile rose to my lips.
Notes: A/N: I hope you enjoyed this second chapter. I would love your comments and review. Also, don't forget, feel free to drop a question in your review and as long as it does not give away the story, I would be happy to answer at the top of the next chapter. Much love - xoxo.