Lee Goldberg - King City

“The private security officers up there outnumber the police four to one. You would have nothing to do. Is that really what you trained so hard for?”

“OK, fine,” she said. “What about Central Division?”

“The only reason you’d want to work out of headquarters as a patrol officer is for the opportunity to kiss up to the brass. But that’s not going to happen. They only see patrol officers as the household help. The plum assignment around there is getting to drive the chief around. Is that a job you really want? Would that make you feel good about your gender and your race?”

“You’re mocking me,” she said.

“I’m telling you that this is where you’ll make the most impact, where you are the most needed, and where you can put both your sociology degree and your police training to use.”

“We both know that isn’t why I was sent here,” she said. “Or why you were.”

Wade shrugged. “Does the why really matter? You aren’t going to make a difference in Meston Heights or driving the chief to Rotary Club lunches. But here you might.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

“I started as a patrol officer in Crown Park. Robbery stats were way up, so the department offered cops a chance to work four overtime hours at the top of their shift to increase the police presence on the streets. All we were supposed to do was drive up and down the streets in our patrol cars as a high?visibility deterrent.”

“I don’t see what any of that has to do with me,” Charlotte said.

“I had a better idea,” Wade continued. “Me and my partner ditched our cars and got out on foot. We wore baseball caps and long hoodies over our uniform shirts and gun belts. We blended right into the environment, like we were invisible. Crimes went down right in front of us. We made arrests, every day, before our shifts-drug dealers, parolees on weapons violations, at?large suspects wanted in connection with open burglary, rape, and murder investigations.”

“Cool,” Billy said from across the room, carefully taking down one of the posters. “When do I get to do that?”

Wade ignored him. “We brought in a lot of crooks, more than we did once our official shifts started. We got noticed and moved up fast. You think that would have happened at Meston Heights?”

“You ended up in the MCU,” she said. “What happened to your partner?”

“He’s a homicide detective.”

“How’s he doing?” she asked.

Wade shrugged. He hadn’t spoken to Harry Shrake since the MCU scandal broke. Harry was even angrier at Wade for not confiding in him than Alison was.

“Excuse me, Sarge.” Billy stepped up to them and held the rolled?up porn?movie posters under his arm. “Can I have these? I need something to hang in my living room.”

“They’re all yours,” Wade said.

“I guess you don’t expect to bring a lot of women home,” Charlotte said to Billy.

“I don’t see why not,” Billy said.

“They’ll take one look at your artwork and walk out the door,” she said.

“I didn’t get your name,” Billy said.

“Charlotte Greene.”

“Well, Charlie, I’ve never had one walk out yet,” Billy said. “At least not without a big smile on her face.”

Wade showed his officers around the station, went over their duties and responsibilities, then spread out a map of downtown King City on a desk, marked off the boundaries of their patrol zone with a red highlighter, and tacked it on the wall.

“This is our beat,” he said. “Our borders are Washington Boulevard to the north, the docks to the east, the projects to the south, and the freeway on the west.”

It wasn’t called the south side on the map anymore because, after years of decay and violence, the name carried negative connotations. Nobody wanted to be associated with the south side, least of all the city councilmen who represented the district. So the city council simply erased the name and didn’t give it a new one. They said they were doing it to remove the stigma from the neighborhood, stimulate investment, and renew civic pride.

But those three things never happened, not that anybody ever expected them to. There was another reason for what they did. A place without a name doesn’t exist. And neither do the people in it.

Erasing the south side in name made it a lot easier for the police to erase the rapes, murders, and robberies that occurred there from their overall crime statistics too. Crime can’t exist in a place that isn’t there.

The chamber of commerce certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. Or the taxpayers in places like Meston Heights. With the south side factored out, crime was down in King City.

But Wade didn’t share his opinions with his officers. He covered only the facts they needed to know. The rest they’d learn from experience.

Charlotte took notes in her leather?bound notebook as Wade spoke.

Billy seemed bored and antsy, tapping his foot nervously throughout the brief orientation.

“How many other officers are going to be working out of this station?” she asked Wade.

“You’re looking at everybody,” Wade said.

“Just the three of us?”

Wade nodded. Charlotte shot a meaningful look at Billy, who didn’t seem to understand the meaning.

“What’s the problem?” Billy asked her.

“It’s going to be one officer to a car,” she said, obviously irritated with him. “We’re going to be on our own out there.”

“Works for me, Charlie,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I’m tired of having a babysitter. I’m ready.”

Charlotte dismissed Billy with a frown and turned to Wade. “How quickly can backup get here if we need it?”

He didn’t want to tell her that backup wouldn’t come until it was way too late, if it ever came at all.

“Not quickly enough,” Wade said. “So we’re going have to act as if the entire department is just the three of us, which is why I’ve adjusted the traditional shift schedule.”

He explained that he was creating two twelve?hour shifts, 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. and 8:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m. The officers could flip a coin to decide who got days or nights to start off with. Then they could switch shifts each month. He’d work a 9:00 p.m. to 9:00 a.m. shift so that he could ride with them during the most dangerous hours of their shifts, but he’d remain on call at all times during his off?duty hours as their backup.

“Are we going to get paid for the overtime?” Billy asked.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Wade said.

“That’s against union rules,” Charlotte said.

“I know. But I also know the department won’t approve these shifts or authorize the overtime. They’d rather each of us went out there with only God and the dispatcher for company.”

“That sounds good to me,” Billy said.

“It sounds like suicide,” Charlotte said, then turned to Wade. “Your plan doesn’t sound much better. If I’ve got to call for backup while you’re off duty, how are you going to get to me fast enough to save my ass?”

Wade pointed to the ceiling. “I live upstairs.”

Both officers stared at him.

“You’re kidding me,” Charlotte said.

He shook his head. “I moved in this morning. I’ll keep the radio with me at all times.”

“You are hard?core,” Billy said. “But not in an Asscrack Bandits way. More like Walker, Texas Ranger.”

“You’re willing to live here just for us?” Charlotte asked.

“Who says it’s for you?” Wade asked.

“I don’t see any days off in your schedule,” Billy said.

“Because there aren’t any,” Wade said.

“How long are we going to work like that?” Billy asked.