It's all fun and games--until someone turns the tables.
Cars crept past us. Nobody sped, and the radio was quiet. Dispatch hadn’t made a call in over an hour.
I should have been happy for the break. Instead, I was just bored.
I almost suggested we cruise through the drug neighborhoods and look for someone to arrest, but I didn’t want to do that either. Pulling kids in and adding to their rap sheets wasn’t my idea of a good time.
My new partner, Ian, would have been all over that idea. He was fresh out of the academy and still gung-ho as hell. He still had the buzz cut, square jaw, and physique honed by discipline and sergeants. I was only a few years older, still in damned good shape, but I’d mellowed–a lot.
He sat in the passenger seat with his eyes flicking between cars and pedestrians, just waiting for anyone to do something wrong. On the calls we’d had over the last two months, I’d had to call him off almost every time. I had to keep reminding him that in the eyes of the law, that thing we’d sworn to uphold, the people we arrested were innocent until proven guilty. We don’t beat innocent people. Hell, we don’t beat guilty people unless they’re physically resisting. Ian had a chip on his shoulder and acted like he had something to prove.
I’d come out of the academy the same way, but my last partner, Allen, had helped me tone it down.
The guys had given me a lot of shit for partnering with the only out, gay cop in the precinct. At first, I told them I didn’t get to choose my partner—the chief did that. But after about six months, I just told them to fuck off.
I’d only ever had one problem with him and we remedied that pretty quickly.