For Matt
She was in her office smoking a "Red Apple" cigarette and chewing on the end of a pencil. The last few nights had been long and Detective-Seargeant Lacy Maria Velez was tired. A strand of her hair hung loosely near her face as she continued to much on the pen, a nervous habit that had taken the place of nail biting years earlier. She was anxious.
Her office seemed heavier than usual, with mounds of reports stacked and scattered about the small but closed off room. There were reports of all kinds: Police Reports, Evidence Logs, Coroner's Reports, Ballistics Reports, Lab Reports, etc. Lacy had put her signature to most of them, and the remaining few would be taken care of before she locked up her office and headed home. It was already very late in the night, and in a few hours time the sun would rise. Lacy was accustomed to working nights and sleeping days, but that didn't mean that this arrangement didn't take a toll on her.
Crime was high, although it was in a better condition than it had been when she'd joined the force. She took pride in few things, but Lacy was proud of the part she'd played in keeping things under control, especially keeping drugs out of the hands of children. She knew that drugs and kids was a personal issue to her, but that didn't mean she was any less capable of dealing with it. She often thought...
No more like Regina. No more dead teens.
... about the disastrous results drugs had on kids, and had made it her life's work to keep them out of kids hands. She sat there, almost dozing between sleep and daydream when she suddenly remembered she was still in the office and that she still had work to get done. She had more reports to sign off on, a surveillance to check in with and an interview to conduct. The interview was the most important thing that night, as she was screening a future member of her task force.
On her desk was a brown folder with the record of P.O. Scott Pierce. She'd selected Officer Pierce herself, and was curious to see how'd he'd react to the offer. When her Captain...
He's like a father to me, old Kiss
... had asked her why she'd chosen Officer Pierce she'd simply replied "Let's just say his record is unusual." It was the oddness that had attracted her eye, and she was curious if this strange man would fill the missing gap in her rotation. She suspected he had talents other officers lacked.
Thinking about the pending exchange, she put down her pen and opened his chart. She read from Pierce's current supervisor that Pierce was a good officer, great in hand to hand combat and a fantastic shot. She read that he took orders well and that he was a loyal member of his unit. However, the chart also said that he had a nasty temper, a rare medical condition that allowed him to only work after sundown and recently a slow decline in his efficiency. His supervisor suspected drugs or depression. Little was known about Scott Pierce after hours. He didn't seem to have a wife or girlfriend, and never spoke about a mother or even a roommate.
Lacy wanted him, if for nothing else to straighten him out or weed him off the force. She wasn't sure which would happen, but was confident she'd either make P.O. Pierce's career or break him apart. He had potential in her eyes, and she hated nothing else than wasted talent. She closed the file once she felt she knew enough to conduct a proper interview, and placed it in the drawer of her mahogany desk. She cleaned a little, although being the lead detective of her task force left her little time to care about appearances. She had only two personal affects on her desk, and both were photographs. The first was a picture of her Aunt Daphen; the wise old woman's eyes started out from the frame and in Lacy's mind she always heard the same sage advice:
Relax my darling.
Eat you skinny girl.
Your job is only part of life.
Your sister loved you. It was not your fault.
The other was Regina at twelve. She had a happy, youthful face and whenever she felt overwhelmed she would look at it for comfort. Regina always soothed her, and she was happy that even in death her sister's love could help her. For P.O. Pierce's interview she took both pictures and placed them in a drawer. She didn't know why. Everyone had pictures of loved ones. She felt guilty as she did it, and decided that the answer was simple; she didn't want to answer any questions about them.
The door was open and Lacy placed a rather long report in front of her to keep herself occupied. She wore a denim jacket over a navy blue button up shirt. Her badge and gun were strapped to her jeans. She wore brown work boots, efficient although not fashionable. She was dressed for field work while in the office, something she did often. Captain Kiss often told her that if she wanted to look like a real Sergeant to try wearing dress clothes now and again, but Lacy could never do it. She had no interest in appearance of that variety. Politicking in the office didn't help the people at all. She read the report and only the voice of Scott Pierce announcing himself would break her concentration. As she read her mind drifted a little.
For his sake he better be in uniform.
