Maggie woke early. Stretching languidly and glancing at the clock, she realized she’d slept nine hours. Nine glorious hours. The sun was lighting up her room, infusing everything with a golden glow. She’d done laundry last night and the clean fresh smell of her sheets seemed to make the whole bedroom smell good.
The week since she’d reported Earl to I.A. had been surprisingly peaceful and she’d been able to catch up on sleep as a result. The tranquility was partly from being off desk duty and back on the streets and partly because Earl had been put on leave during the investigation. It not only made her feel her allegations were being taken seriously, but his absence also spared her the chance of running into him at the station.
And for some reason none of Earl’s cronies had said word one to her all week. In fact, most of them, looked away when she came across them at the station. Go figure. No more dead squirrels, either.
But as the sleep cleared from her head, Maggie’s stomach tightened as she remembered. That peace might be about to end. This morning she was meeting with I.A.
The night before, on her way out the door, she’d been told to report to Internal Affairs in the morning. Maybe they’d made a decision. Maybe today she’d learn what punishment I.A. had in store for Earl.
Hopping in the shower, she thought about the meeting with I.A. While she hoped Earl was severely punished for his actions, she knew it might come at a steep price to her. She’d basically put a target on her own back.
She couldn’t shake the image of the Mexican woman’s frightened face. And the look Earl gave her as he drove away. Earl was dangerous. He had taken much too long to lower the gun he had pointed at her. She saw his face. She saw the decisions being made.
Whatever I.A. said, she would have to live with it. But it didn’t stop the fear from trickling through her veins.
Once at the station, Maggie sat down with her fourth cup of coffee. When she was done scanning emails, she organized her desk, waiting for the clock’s hand to move. Finally, at 8:58 a.m., she stood.
Throwing her shoulders back, she poked her head in Kramer’s office. “Got a meeting with I.A. I’ll hit the street right after.”
Lt. Kramer paused. Instead of answering, he nodded without taking his eyes off of her. His crystal blue eyes made something slither down her spine. Again, he looked like he was about to say something but then looked down, dismissing her.
Backing out of his office, Maggie shook off the feeling of dread and knocked on the door of Room 102 before opening it.
Inside, Sgt. Earl and the two I.A. cops waited in seats at a long table with the chief’s secretary, Adeline.
Sgt. Earl. In uniform. He looked like he needed a shave and under his caterpillar eyebrows —even more disheveled than usual—his eyes were bloodshot, but he had his gun tucked into his holster. Panic streaked through Maggie. She paused in the doorway. In an instant, she knew she’d lost. It was the look in Earl’s eye. He’d won.
A balding cop in a wrinkled pink shirt gestured for Maggie to sit. She chose the chair furthest away, across from Adeline and the balding cop, putting the other I.A. investigator between her and Earl. Adeline wouldn’t meet her eye, keeping her head down over a steno notebook. The cop in the pink shirt shuffled a small stack of papers and cleared his throat.
“We have looked into your complaint and reached a decision,” he began. “Sgt. Earl admits having the man in his trunk. The man he had in custody fit the description of a man who had broken into Judge Hatton’s house earlier that day.”
Maggie shot a surprised look at Sgt. Earl. He was lying. The girl hadn’t been able to identify or describe the intruder. But then Maggie remembered. The report had been amended later that night because Earl had interviewed the girl and she’d been able to provide a description. Of course, all this was after Maggie had seen what she had in the clearing.
The internal affairs investigator continued.
“After finding the suspect, Sgt. Earl was alone in the canyon out of radio contact and had lost his handcuffs in a scuffle earlier that day. He had placed the man in his trunk for his own safety until you arrived as backup. He knew you were coming and was waiting for your assistance.”
Heat flushed through Maggie. She had lost big time.
“With all due respect, if any of that is true, why did he leave and let the couple go?” Maggie knew it was useless but she needed to speak up, get her protest on the record. She glanced over to see if Adeline was taking notes and caught the woman looking at her. Adeline quickly looked down and began to write.
The two I.A. investigators exchanged a look. “It appears at that point that the victim had called and recanted her statement so there was no just cause to detain the couple. It just happened to occur when you arrived.”
“I know what I saw,” Maggie said. “When I arrived, the woman was on her knees and Sgt. Earl had his gun to her head. Her husband was in the trunk. Sgt. Earl didn’t open the trunk until I asked him.”
Although she couldn’t see Earl’s face, Maggie swore she could feel a threatening wave of hatred and danger emanating from him.
The man in the pink shirt pressed his lips closely together. He exchanged a look with the investigator seated next to Maggie, who turned to her. He was younger and red-faced, obviously the junior investigator and playing the “good cop.”
“Officer Bychowski, unfortunately, without any witnesses, this is a ‘he said, she said’ situation. Unless you could find those two other people involved, we cannot simply take one person’s word over the other.”
Maggie huffed with frustration. “But that is exactly what you are doing,” she said, shooting a glance to make sure Adeline was taking notes. “You are taking Sgt. Earl’s story over mine.”
The investigator sighed as if she were testing his patience. “Look at it this way, if this was a court of law, the case would be dismissed for lack of evidence.”
“What about the Sanchez stuff?”
The investigators shot a quick look at Earl who swiveled his head toward her, eyes wide, face instantly red.
Maggie tried to hide her shock. He didn’t know.
“That is not our jurisdiction. The attorney general’s office is looking into those allegations.”
“What?” Earl stood and knocked over his chair. He pounded his fists on the table making Maggie jump. “What the fuck is she talking about?”
“Sergeant …” The investigator shot a frantic look at his colleague.
Maggie stood. “Am I done here?”
The younger investigator’s neck flushed.
The two men nodded.
Maggie rushed out of the room and headed straight to the women’s bathroom. Slamming the door of the stall behind her, she knelt and dry heaved into the toilet. A little bit of wispy bile was all that came up. Her face was burning and she felt like her eyes were going to pop out of her head. She was still incredulous.
Sgt. Earl had been cleared of all wrongdoing for what had happened in that clearing. Sure, some of his intent might be hard to prove if you weren’t there and saw the deadly look in his eyes and the way his gun hand shook, but the facts were the facts—he had a man in his trunk and he hit an innocent woman in the head with his department issued weapon and the internal affairs investigators dismissed it.
Thank God someone outside this corrupt department was looking at the Johnny Sanchez case, but even so, her hopes that Earl would be held accountable weren’t high. Who knew how far the Earl influence stretched in this state.
After she splashed water on her face and did some deep breathing exercises, Maggie realized she couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. She’d grab more coffee and hit the streets.
Taking a deep breath, she flung open the bathroom door and stepped into the hall. It was empty. For some reason, she expected Earl to be waiting outside in the hall to ambush her. But he was nowhere to be seen.
She rushed into Kramer’s office.
“I don’t understand,” she said, her breath coming in short spurts. She was pacing in front of his desk, too wound up to settle down.
“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry. I heard a rumor they were going to clear Earl on that investigation into the immigrant couple,” Kramer said. “But it’s not over yet.”
“The attorney general.”
“I have been in touch with the A.G.’s office this morning. His assistant said they are considering looking into your allegations. I know that’s not completely reassuring but it’s better than an outright immediate dismissal. And he’s reviewing the information right away—as we speak she said. So, there’s still a chance Earl will be held accountable for that … uh, situation.”
“Fuck,” Maggie paced in front of his desk. She’d never sworn in front of the lieutenant but she was so angry she didn’t care and wasn’t about to apologize.
“Listen, I understand your frustration…” He trailed off.
Maggie opened her mouth to speak and realized there was nothing to say. She pressed her lips together, shook her head and walked out. She needed to get out of this office and onto the streets where she could breathe again. But first coffee.
She swung by the break room to fill her travel mug, wishing she had a shot of whiskey to splash in it. As soon as she stepped into the room, a trickle of fear raced down her arms and legs.
Earl was leaning against the counter, legs crossed. Waiting for her. One hand on his holster. She tried not to let on where she was looking but his smirk, evident by his moustache tilting to one side, told her he’d seen her glance down.
“We should talk,” he said in a low voice his black eyes under the caterpillar eyebrows staring her down.
Refusing to look away, she stood frozen, waiting.
“I’ve been thinking. You might have been confused about what happened down there in that clearing. You might not understand why I acted and reacted the way I did. It’s okay. It’s normal. Sometimes boots don’t know how to access a situation straight off. It can be confusing, right?”
She pressed her lips tightly together.
“I don’t know about where you’re from, but cops around here don’t like snitches,” he straightened up. She held her breath, hoping he was leaving. He brushed past her, the smell of his sweat-soaked armpits filling her nostrils. She held her breath and tried not to gag, waiting for him to pass. But then he stopped and turned, leaning toward her. He whispered in her ear, his breath hot and foul smelling like something dead: “You might want to make sure you don’t get confused again. Once can be attributed to being a newbie and not quite understanding stuff and the way things are done. Twice … well that’s something else now altogether, isn’t it?”
He grabbed her wrist as he spoke, his meaty hand smothering her arm, his fat fingers curling around her delicate bones.
“Here’s how you can make it right again.” His grip tightened on her wrist. She refused to react. “You can tell the attorney general you made a mistake. Maybe even that you lied.”
“Why would I do that? I’d get fired.”
He began to laugh, low and mean. “If that’s the worst thing that happens to you for bringing this shitstorm down on my head you’ll be lucky.”
She jerked away, but his grip was viselike. Just then two other officers walked in talking loudly. Earl let go of her wrist. She backed away, not taking her eyes off of him.
“Hey, Sarge this rook bothering you?” It was a cop with a flat top named Grant.
Earl shook his head. Maggie turned her back to them to fill her coffee cup up, heart pounding, taking her time, letting the brown sludge dribble into her cup, hoping they would all just go away.
“If you need our help, just let us know,” said the other cop, a beefy short guy named Connor. “We got no problem breaking new recruits in.”
Maggie didn’t turn, didn’t breathe.
After a few seconds, she heard all three men leave, their voices down the hall talking about the 49ers football game. She rushed to the parking lot.
Sitting in her car, she swallowed back her despair and rested her head on the steering wheel for a few seconds, trying to compose herself before she hit the streets. After a few seconds, she sat up, pulled her shoulders back and turned the key in the ignition.