In the distance, a police car with its siren blaring approached. It snaked and zigzagged its way through the heavy midmorning traffic.
One by one, drivers swerved reflexively to let it pass.
Slick and Laura looked startled as it stopped in front of them.
A young police officer got out of the car. “Detective Slick?”
After years off the force, the police still addressed her as “Detective” out of respect. And after all these years, Slick still cherished hearing it.
“Yes, Officer. How can I help you?”
“Captain DeStasio sent us to bring you to the station.”
Slick started to ask why her old precinct captain would be sending for her, but before she could ask, the young officer continued. “All I can tell you, Detective, is that it’s about a murder. Some Halsey Street hooker went and got herself killed.”
The young officer hesitated and looked away momentarily, then finished. His youthful voice was low and strained. “Could be someone on the job is involved.”
Without saying another word, Slick opened the back door of the patrol car and helped Laura and Garbo inside. She walked to the other side and let herself in.
The car worked its way back into traffic with the lights flashing and the siren screaming.
Inside the car was total silence. No one spoke.
Slick did a quick study of the young officer in the front seat. His appearance was impeccable. Uniform clean and crisp. Hair cut to regulation. Great physical condition. His eyes were forward and focused. He hadn’t expected to work in Newark, but when he got the assignment, he didn’t turn it down, because he thought he could make a difference. He argued with his young wife about it. She wanted kids, a house at the shore.
He was doing his job, but it was easy to see he was despondent. He hadn’t heard that sometimes the cops were suspected of being the bad guys.
Yeah, he knew about Abner Louima and Amadou Diallo, but those were not the norm for police officers. Those incidents were aberrations.
He was probably fresh out of the academy, Slick thought, filled with the rookie’s altruistic ideal that the cops were always right and good.
He couldn’t believe that the people he worked with could be guilty of anything more than taking a free meal from a restaurant once in a while.
Slick knew exactly how he felt. She looked out the window at the same old Newark streets that she remembered so well.
Halsey Street.
Broad Street.
Frelinghuysen Avenue.
Ferry Street.
The movie theaters, the barbecue joints, the check-cashing places, the jazz clubs.
The squad car seemed to be carrying Slick swiftly into her past.
She shut her eyes, remembering how she had gotten this far and the first time she saw a police badge.
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