Night Shift

Zack burst through the doors into the main reception of the police station, Jennifer White following behind with less energy. He looked around the room, sparsely furnished with a few chairs, and decorated with posters and notices alluding to crimes and programs funded by the ****. There were a few doors, all closed, with signs forbidding entry by unauthorised personnel. Of people the reception was empty except for one solitary figure behind a desk right in front of him, a placard naming officer as Desk Sergeant Al Powell. Zack didn’t even notice him at first, until he took a few steps forward and saw the older cop sitting, feet up, reading the book, The Compulsive Lying Client. Seeing as he wasn’t busy, Zack approached, and waited for the man to finish reading.

The cop ignored him and kept reading. Zack cleared his throat. The cop still didn’t move, except for his eyes as they ping ponged back and forth across the pages in front of him. Finally, Zack said, “excuse me?” attempting to be as polite as possible while disguising his annoyance.

“Do you want to report a crime?” The Desk Sergeant asked without looking up from the book.

“No, I-”

“If you’re not going to report a crime, then I can’t help you,” he insisted, turning a page.

“Listen, I want to speak to someone about Lisa Rivera,” Zack said angrily.

“Who’s she?” He asked, with a kind of casual boredom of someone asking about the weather.

“She was arrested for **** possession, but she didn’t do it,” Zack said, resisting the urge to grab the man and throttle him, though a plastic window separated them. “I have evidence, a confession from the person who planted the ****.”

His eyes finally rose to look at Zack, though just barely, over the top of his book. “And who are you? A boyfriend or family member I suppose?”

“I…” Zack stammered, caught off guard. “I don’t see why that matters.

“Leave it and I’ll see that someone gets it in the morning,” he suggested with a smirk, dropping his eyes back to his book, clearly not placing much weigh in Zack’s evidence.

But he wasn’t about to simply leave the recording without making sure something was doing to be done about it. He folded his arms and stood his ground, telling the cop, “I’m not going anywhere. I want to talk to someone involved in the case. The arresting officers…Russell and Stallone, I think their names were…where are they?”

“Gone home,” the Desk Sergeant informed him.

Exasperated, Zack looked to Jennifer. After all, this was why they had called her. Her knowledge of the law and experience with the various forces in and around Azure Rocks made her essential in giving the recording the legitimacy that it deserved. With a gentle smile to the teen, she stepped forward, Zack moving to one side to let her try and convince him that they were serious. Her first step was to produce her badge from her jacket and place it on the desktop in front of him.

“My name is Officer Jennifer White with the Silver Lake Park Rangers,” she said with authority. “Who is the lead investigator in the Rivera case?”

He looked up from the book, glancing first at the badge, shining in the light, and then to Jennifer’s serious, hard expression. He seemed to mull over her request before noting, “you’re aware that the Park Rangers have no jurisdiction within the town limits?”

“And you’re aware that I am within my rights to request the assistance of the police in my own investigation? Jennifer remarked, confident that he would comply. “Now, the detective in charge?”

Exhaling irritably, he set down the book to one side and revealed, “Detective Joan McClane is the lead investigator in the Rivera case, but she’s gone for the night as well.”

“Then you’d better call her in,” Jennifer told him, making her demand sound like a request, as she glanced at the nearby telephone on his side of the glass. “She’s gonna want to hear this.”

“And Mr. McRose,” Zack added, poking his head in from the side, struggling to hide his smugness. “You’ll want Lisa Rivera’s lawyer for this as well.”

Al Powell glared at Zack, clearly bothered at being **** to comply with their demands. He took some satisfaction in telling them, “It could take some time.”

“That’s okay,” Jennifer conceded, looking over at a line of chairs against a wall opposite the tall desk. “we’ll wait.”

It was about an hour later when the towering, red-headed father of Chloe came stomping through the doors of the police station. His slightly untucked shirt and the slightly off-centre tie indicted that he had gotten dressed in a hurry, which wasn’t a surprise to Zack. It had already been quite late, though not quite midnight when Zack left the gala. Now today was fast becoming tomorrow, and still nothing had been done about Lisa, frustrating Zack as he sat, feeling powerless and impatient, soothing himself by rapidly tapping his foot.

Roy McRose’s appearance had given him hope, however. The giant of a man approached, almost as soon as he entered, suitcase in hand. Zack was a familiar face to him, a good friend of Chloe’s that he’d met on the many occasions he would come over. But seeing him in this situation, embroiled in middle of a **** investigation and calling him down to the station was completely new territory.

“Zack? What’s this about?” He asked, his voice booming. “I was told that Miss Riveria might need me immediately.”

“Right, well, it’s a long story but…” Zack reached into his pocket and produced the memory card that Ashley had given him. “We have a recording that clears Lisa’s name. She was set up, though not intentionally. But the other girl who did it, confessed.”

Mr. McRose took the device that Zack handed him, blinking rapidly as he looked over the drive, almost not believing it was real. Chloe was supposed to be spending a quiet spring break at a friend’s cabin. How exactly had these kids gotten this?

“Zack…this is very serious,” he said, trying not to sound patronising. “You’re sure this is legitimate?”

“Absolutely. A friend of mine recorded it herself,” Zack informed him, hastily adding, “uh, not Chloe though, don’t worry.”

Before Zack could continue, the doors to the station opened again, though this time it was a woman who entered. A young woman, who looked to be in her mid-thirties, with light brown, dark blonde wavy shoulder-length hair, dressed in a red leather jacket atop a black tank top and tight, slim fit jeans and black, military-esque boots, breezed into the district with a yawn and a flask in hand. She spoke first to the Desk Sergeant, briefly, before looking over at the three of them. She took a drink as she approached, a powerful aroma of strong coffee wafting from the cup.

“This had better be good,” was all she said to them.

“Oh, it is,” Roy said, excitedly, such enthusiasm seeming strange on a man so large. “This is a confession of the person who planted those **** on my client.”

“We’ll see about that,” she grumbled, already turning towards an ‘authorised personnel only’ door. There was a keypad next to it, and as she punched in the code, she jerked her head, motioning for Roy to follow. “Let’s go have a listen, shall we?”