Last Seen Alive

Chapter Three

Milo Greene: What's The Matter

"You're late," Michael said looking at the clock on the wall when Kelsey burst into his office, practically out of breath.

"I had to stay at the crime scene until the CSI was done in case they found anything else that you'd need to know," Kelsey replied. "Speaking of reports—"

"We're behind time. You'll have to report your findings while we train," Michael interrupted as he stood and headed for the door.

"About that—" she began, halting his footsteps. "I had an idea."

He perched on the edge of the desk, arms folded and she took it as a sign to proceed.

"You're already so busy, being the chief and all, so I wouldn't want you to waste your time training me."

"Your safety is a waste of time?"

"That's not what I meant," she sighed. "I can defend myself in other ways that don't require training."

"Enlighten me."

She reached back and stuck both hands into the side pockets of her backpack. When she brought them back to the front, a taser sat in one palm and pepper spray in the other.

Michael gave them a cursory glance before standing again. "Come with me."

She followed him with the objects still in her hands. He led her to a room at the back of the station which she knew served as the gym. A trickle of apprehension poked at her.

No one else was in there. He moved to the centre of the gym which was mostly clear from treadmills and other gym equipment.

"Let's play out a scenario, shall we?" He gestured for Kelsey to stand in front of him and she complied, wearing a look of trepidation. "Imagine I'm a perp—"

"Not hard to do," she said under her breath, but still loud enough for Michael to hear and glare at her for it.

"And imagine you're...you."

She did not like the way he said that.

"You're obviously not going to be walking around everywhere with those in your hands," he said, staring pointedly at the taser and spray.

She returned them to their designated pockets and stuffed her hands in her pockets to keep from fidgeting and showing him how nervous she was.

"Say you're walking home in the dark," he said taking slow deliberate steps towards her. "You're alone and the streets are empty. Then you hear a second set of footsteps drawing closer." He moved behind her. "Until they're right behind you. How will you defend yourself?" He was standing less than a step away from her now.

She pulled out her taser and pepper spray and quickly twisted around to face him, raising each to his face. Michael was faster, holding both her wrists before they got very far. He easily knocked the two items out of her hands and onto the ground while still holding her wrists. She glared angrily up at him but didn't try to break out of his hold.

"9 times out of 10, a weapon in the hands of a civilian ends up in the assailant's possession instead," he said calmly, a complete contrast to the anger swirling around inside her.

"You knew I had those so it was easy for you to anticipate my moves," she said defiantly.

"You're assuming an actual perp would even wait for you to pull those out of your bag?" he scoffed. "That doesn't change the facts. Your reflexes are slow. You have no other way of defending yourself in case you lose your weapons. If someone pulled a gun on you, do you think you would stand a chance against actual bullets with zero training and—" He glanced at the taser and spray. "—a few volts of electricity and a spray named after a condiment?"