Borderline [On hold for major revision]

Chapter 12: Spending a Day with the FPD

Chapter 12 

I hesitantly opened the door and Terra and I stepped in. I was carrying the folder that Martina had given me, but I handed it to the old guy in a suit sitting behind the desk.

            He took it without saying anything, which I found strange. If a two random people just came into my office and gave me something I’d at least ask who they were. But maybe that was just me.

            He glanced at it for only a moment, then handed it back. “I already have this.”

            I was at a loss as to what to say. Or do, for that matter. “Uh…okay. Well, my supervisor Bethany Martina told us to come here and coordinate our efforts to find Rogers with you. I’m really hoping she gave you more details than she gave me, because I have absolutely no idea what we’re doing here.”

            While I was still foggy on the details, Terra had managed to fill me in on a few things on the ride over. She read the case file that was in folder while I drove, leaving out the insignificant details.  I remembered from my short stint in the FBI that sometimes so-called “insignificant details” could make or break a case, but no amount of cajoling could make Terra read the whole thing. Now I’d have to go over it all later and waste time trying to memorize things I could’ve learned earlier.

            The guy in the suit whom I’d never met before chuckled and stood up from behind his desk. “Well, you managed to find your way here. That’s more than what most of my officers are able to do on their first try.” He held out is hand. “I’m Rick Jackson, head of Violent Crimes. So I’m guessing you’re the Border Patrol people they sent over?”

            I shook his hand and nodded. “Yeah. I’m Cal Tucker. The lovely lady hovering in the doorway is my partner, Terra Mitchell.”

            “Great to meet you. So, are you planning on getting to work anytime soon?”

            “Right.” I hesitated. “Uh, who will we be working with exactly?”

            He chuckled again and muttered something under his breath. I couldn’t hear exactly what he was saying, but I heard the phrases “darn patrollers” and “no prerogative.” I wasn’t particularly interested in hearing the rest.

            He suddenly walked around his desk and stepped into the hallway, not bothering to speak again. Slightly confused, Terra and I followed him until we reached an open room full of desks with a few cops of all forms bustling around them.  Jackson whistled at two of them and beckoned them towards us. The pair quickly finished what they were doing and jogged over.

            The two of them looked like polar opposites of one another. One was a short, nerdy looking Hispanic guy with big glasses and a suit. The other was taller than me, muscular, and Caucasian. Jackson rattled off all of our names, pointing at us each in turn. He started with the tiny Mexican and moved clockwise.

            “Vasquez, Walton, Mitchell, Tucker. Now that the introductions are done, I can get back to my work and you can begin yours. Have fun, make progress, and find this guy.”

            Not the most specific instructions in the world, but I liked it. Martina would probably make a thirty-point plan detailing each step of our investigative process in that annoying micromanager way that she did things. But Martina wasn’t here.

            The tall guy—Walton, I guess his name was—was staring at me strangely. “Your name’s Tucker?” he asked. “Huh.” His eyebrows raised a little, but then turned and started back to his desk, gesturing for the rest of us to follow. Somehow he seemed to recognize me; I’d have to ask him about it later.