A Badge and a Book

The radio crackles with a message from dispatch.

“Accident on I-95 North, mile marker 186, paramedics on route.”

Alex picks up the radio and relays a response as her partner pulls out of the speed trap and flicks on the lights. Highway-goers dutifully pull into the right lane, slowing as they pass. It never fails to amuse her how cars slow down obsequiously at the sight of a police cruiser, whether they’re already at the speed limit or not.

The accident is nothing serious, little worse than a fender bender. It’s the injured driver that catches her interest. He’s visibly distressed, anxious, and not over the state of his car or his suit. He keeps lifting a hand towards his breast pocket then dropping it, eyes darting to the officers and away again. He’s got something to hide. Her curiosity piqued, she plasters on a smile and strides towards the man to offer placations while radiating an authority that sets the man’s teeth on edge.

“Bit of a mess huh, Avery,” her smile predatory as she reads the name from his licence, “your coat’s covered in glass, you should take that thing off.”

The man’s shoulder’s tense. “I’m fine.”

“No worries, let’s get you over to the paramedic, he’ll want to check out that head injury.”

The man blinks, as if he hadn’t even noticed the thin trickle of blood on his forehead. He nods and Alex walks him over to the ambulance. At the paramedic’s insistence he reluctantly removes his coat to get his blood pressure taken.

She can’t help herself. Maybe it’s the remnants of an early life of petty crime, maybe it’s an officer’s instinct. She leans against the side of the ambulance beside the man’s folded coat and slips her fingers into the folds, retrieving a slim black notebook from the breast pocket.

Turning away from the scene, she flips the book open and scans the contents hastily.

Dates and cross streets and zip codes. It’s a tidy list, pages and pages going back chronologically nearly four years, dates and locations and nothing else. She’s burning with curiosity. She immediately suspects foul play but knows it’s just the deviant in her looking for trouble. It’s probably something mundane, at worst a record of affairs, illicit rendezvous or something similar. Still, she makes note of the local zip codes. The locations seem to range all along the East Coast, more than she can keep track of, but she memorizes the local addresses and their corresponding dates. The most recent record is from today, “Essex and York, 04401.” She flips through a few more pages before returning the notebook to the coat.

Back in the cruiser she writes down what she remembers on the back of a speeding ticket, five dates and locations in the surrounding counties, and stuffs it in her back pocket.

At the station she receives a pile of paperwork and ignores it in favor of booting up the database and pulling out the crumpled ticket. Methodically, she enters the dates and zipcodes to see what comes up in terms of notable crime. There’s nothing in particular, aside from traffic violations. There’s a breaking and entering and a domestic but nothing consistent. She sighs and sticks the ticket in a drawer to be forgotten.

She’s packing up her stuff and shutting down her computer when there’s a commotion out front.

“-because we’re black isn’t it!”

“Whoa now sweetheart -”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!”

Alex steps between a male officer and a young, dark-skinned woman, “I got this, Rollins, go back to what you were working on,” She says to the officer behind her without turning away from the young woman. “I’m Alex Lynn, let’s sit down.” She gestures to a bench at intake where they both sit.

“What’s your name,” she asks kindly.

“Janelle, ma’am,” the young lady replies, collecting herself.

“Tell me what’s going on, I’m here to help.”

Janelle takes a deep breath. “It’s my little sister, ma’am, she didn’t come home yesterday and I’m very worried. She’s 16, she’s an honors student, she’s a very good girl, she’d never -” she chokes up, ducking her head to hide shining eyes.

“Hey,” Alex says softly, “I understand, you’re worried about her, I’d burn the world down if something happened to my family. Tell me the last time you heard from her.”

“She called me after school saying she missed the bus. She was going to walk home, I was at work so I couldn’t come get her, I… It’s my fault. What if -”

“Janelle, we’ll find your sister okay. How far is your house from the school?”

“About a mile or two,” she winces, “We live in Somerville Park.”

“Alright, that helps, did you file a missing persons report?”

“Just did ma’am, the officer, he said she’s probably at a friends, with a boy or something, but I swear she’s not like that, and I know it’s a small town but that doesn’t mean-”

“Hey, I’m sorry he said all that, don’t worry about it. Rollins is an ass but he does good work at the end of the day.” Alex digs her card out of her pocket, and scribbles her cell down on the back of it. “Here’s my number, call or text me if you think of anything that could help, okay?”

“Thank you ma’am, thank you so much.” Janelle says, chin held high as she wipes at her eyes.

Janelle leaves and Alex cracks her neck, eyes closed, visualizing a mental map of the route from the highschool to Somerville park. You’d have to get on Essex street, pass the tree streets and then -

Essex and York, 04401.

The most recent entry in the notebook. Yesterday’s date.

Alex forgets her plans to go home and catch up on TV shows, hurrying back to her desk and booting up the computer, pulling out the wrinkled ticket.

“Of course,” she says under her breath.

Missing persons reports are filed a day, sometimes days after people go missing. Some people never even get a report filed at all, not if there was no one to do it for them. At risk kids and runaways, the most vulnerable people in society, can just disappear like ghosts. Luckily it’s a small enough town that people around here notice when someone goes missing. She types in the dates and locations again and sure enough, a few days later there’s a missing kid reported.

Damn.

She needs to see the notebook again. There must be hundreds of entries in there going back years. This is big, bigger than her, bigger than her little police department.

She looks over her shoulder and sure enough there’s still a light on in her bosses office. She hammers on the door until he opens it, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sight of her.

“Didn’t you get off an hour ago,” he complains.

“You know me, hard working and dedicated!” She simpers, pushing into his office.

“If you’re after a promotion-”

“I’m on to something big,” She states.

“Here we go.”

Alex doesn’t bother sitting down, just starts talking. After she’s explained everything her boss sits with his head in his hands.

“I swear to god Alex,” he sighs, “If this wasn’t about missing kids.”

“We gotta get that notebook.”

“We’ve gotta do this by the books,” he insists, “one mistake and we put all those kids in jeopardy, not to mention… the paperwork.”

They exchange a grim look.

“The problem is,” her boss goes on, “there’s no evidence. What you’ve got doesn’t even qualify as circumstantial, and obtained illegitimately at that… I have a buddy in the feds, I’ll see what he thinks. As a department we have nothing to go on, and I do not want you going off half-cocked doing something illegal and reckless.”

“You have my word sir,” Alex says somberly.

He snorts, “Your word isn’t worth shit.”

Alex smiles crookedly.

***

She’s outside a grocery store the next day after dealing with a shoplifter when she sees him.

It’s impossibly lucky and she can’t stop herself from making a move. She waits until he leaves the store and sidles up to him, startling him when she speaks. “Avery, right?”

The man nearly jumps out of his skin, turning to face her. “Officer?”

“That’s me. So,” she smiles darkly, “Where are the kids?”

The man blanches, eyes darting around the parking lot for escape. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She glances meaningfully at the man’s breast coat pocket. “Your notebook says otherwise.”

The man’s skin goes ruddy, a bead of sweat forms on his brow. She knows the instant she sees his body tense that he’s going to run. Perfect.

“Stop!” She shouts and chases him, catching him easily and pinning him to the side of a parked car. This is enough to take him in. “You’re under arrest”

“I never touched them!” the man blurts desperately, “I’m just the accountant!”

“The accountant,” She hums as she hauls him back to the cruiser. “So you handle the money,” she evaluates him, “don’t think these child trafficking types would be too pleased to find out you’ve been skimming money for yourself,” she guesses.

“I, what! How?! Please!”

It feels great being right.

***

It turns into a huge thing. She gets taken off active duty for a few weeks and they have to deal with the feds coming in and out of the station for paperwork and interrogations, but it’s completely worth it in the end. They find Janelle’s sister, still being held in the state, and the rest of the kids are soon to be found.

Alex, meanwhile, has her own business to attend to. She scrolls through the records of an offshore bank account, dutifully transferring money until the account is completely empty of the near four million dollars it once held.

***

A month later she sees Janelle through a bakery window looking at cakes and goes in on a whim.

“Birthday coming up?” she asks, watching Janelle turn in surprise, breaking out into a smile when she sees Alex.

“Officer Lynn!”

“Please, call me Alex.”

Janelle flushes, turning to the cakes, “It’s my little sister’s birthday tomorrow, she’s turning seventeen!”

“Wish her happy birthday for me.”

Janelle nods, “I can’t thank you enough for finding her.”

Alex shakes her head, “you’ve nothing to thank me for. I’m glad the both of you are doing well.”

“Thank you! We even got a check in the mail, twenty-thousand dollars for reparations, can you believe it!”

Alex feigns surprise, “Wow, that’s amazing!”

“I put it into an account for my sister so she can go to art school!”

“That’s really good of you, I’m sure she appreciates it,” Alex says, a warm feeling rising in her chest. She knows twenty grand isn’t enough for a full art degree, but it’s a start. Hopefully the near two hundred other families will be as thoughtful with their checks.

“I haven’t told her yet, she doesn’t think we can afford to send her to college so she hasn’t talked about it, but I know it’s her dream.”

Alex smiles genuinely, “You’re a good sister, I’m glad you have each other.”

“Thanks, uh, Alex,” Janelle smiles bashfully.

Alex leaves the bakery with a strawberry tartlet, a dozen obligatory donuts, and a full heart.