Home Sweet Home Ch. 01

Diana parked in her designated parking slot, marked by a sign with three stars on it. Next to her spot on the left was a sign with a Staff Sergeant insignia, and to the right was a sign with four stars. After exiting her city issued vehicle, she angled her reflection in the window to stretch the wrinkles out of her uniform and ensure her short, dark hair, was presentable with her cap on. Once pleased with her appearance, she marched purposefully to the door thirty feet away, and then removed her cap upon entry.

Holding the brim of her hat with her fingers, and pressing it to her body with her elbow, Diana continued her disciplined movement down the hall. The records clerks wished her a good morning, a gesture she politely returned. The Traffic Service Office Sergeant walked past holding a stack of folders. The Sergeants office was empty, the shift sergeant typically arriving the moment they were expected, and not a moment before. Some of the officers were swapping their radio batteries and handing off keys to the next patrol teams. The Investigations division was occupied by Detective Jeremiah Foster, the most obese officer they had. One third of this team was the School Resource Officer who was already in his office at the local high school. Waste of a detective in Diana's opinion.

Moving to the second floor, she continued past the conference room and did not look behind her toward the City Council. At the end of the wide hallway were three doors, each leading to an office of the big three in the police. The Chief of Police Malcom Frasier. The Administrative Sergeant Gerald Hopper. Then lastly, her own office.

Malcom would not be in for at least another hour. In the morning he briefed the Chairman of the City Council. Gerald was already at his desk, his uniform jacket hung on a hanger, dangling precariously on a tilted coat rack. He had the shoulders of a bull and was built low to the ground. His thick, dyed dark mustache, was speckled with the powdered sugar from a donut he hid in his desk drawer the second he heard Diana's heels clacking.

Diana placed her cap on the shelf behind her desk, between two framed photos, one of her daughter Whitney, and the other of her younger sister in a college graduation gown. Like Gerald, she removed her jacket and hung it in her portable wardrobe. Once dressed down, she walked across the hall and gave Gerald a glare with her hand extended.

"Give it here," she said, flexing her fingers toward herself several times.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Gerald said.

"It's either your mustache is a sugar catcher, or a cum catcher," Diana said, then flexed her fingers again. Gerald released an audible sigh but surrendered the donut. Once in her hand, she took a bite and walked back to her office.

"You can be a stereotype, but I can't?" Gerald said in jest.

"I don't have a doctor's order because of high blood pressure. Don't talk to me about stereotypes, I'm a black cop," she said with a laugh. She heard the squeaking of his chair as she sat onto her own. His footsteps thudded across the hall, and he appeared at her door. "You aren't getting it back."

"Just so you have a warning, we might be looking at a lawsuit in the near future," Gerald said. Diana finished chewing her bite before she replied.

"Why?" Diana asked.

"Call last night. Arrest for trespassing," he explained.

"Excessive force complaint?"

"No. More like, he was trespassing on his own property," he said, and Diana shook her head in disbelief. "He's got the money for a lawyer too."

"Shit," Diana said. She opened her desk drawer and removed a napkin so she had something to cleanly place the donut on. "Who fucked that up?"

"Car five. Joey," Gerald said. "He should be wrapping up his shift downstairs. You might be able to catch him."

"Let's start getting the story straight," Diana said. She placed her jacket back on, properly buttoned it, then began to step out of her office. Before she crossed the threshold, she took one step back, and grabbed the donut.

It was just before six thirty, so the department was more crowded than normal. It was the overlap between Watch 3, and Watch 1, night and day shifts, respectively. Night shift was placing their radio batteries to charge, while day shift was signing their batteries out of inventory. Most of the officers changed in the locker rooms, then went home in civilian attire. Watch 3 Patrol Sergeant Matthews was still present, so she flagged him down from the cluster of officers. The old Sergeant had a feeling he would hear about it before his shift ended.

"Where's Joey?" Diana asked.

"Lockers," Matthews said while pointing to the male figure on the door behind her.

"What happened last night?" she asked. Matthews led her to the Sergeants office and closed the door.

"Joey and Kennan get a call, possible break in. It's a man and woman, both claiming to be the owner of the home. Her ID had that address, his didn't."

"Which one called us?" Diana asked.

"The man. Joey said he didn't know that part, so arrested the man because of the ID situation."

"Based on that?" Diana asked, and received a nod in reply. "My ID doesn't match my address. Please tell me, he took them both in?" Headshake. "He left her in the house?" Nod. "Then we found out, she didn't own the house, he did." Nod.

"I'm not saying all of his decisions were good," Matthews said.

"No, he let a trespasser roam around the home of a legal resident for hours, after arresting him for trespassing. If he took them both in to clear it up, then fine, that's something we could justify. Right now, it's bad."

"I don't disagree. He didn't have a lot to work with though," Matthews said, and paused to gauge her level of anger. "I can have a citation on your desk by shift."

"Recommend suspension, one week, with pay, pending investigation. It'll be a vacation," Diana said, then left the office after confirming Matthews understood. Joey was leaving the lockers as she stepped back into the hall. "Ballard."

Joey turned his head to the voice saying his name and groaned in his throat. He was also waiting to hear about it. Without hesitation he pushed his way through his coworkers and into the Sergeant's office.

Officer Joey Ballard was built like a linebacker, but never played football. Thick neck, large rectangular shoulders, hard muscles filling out his plain black shirt. Blonde hair, still shimmering from the shower, combed neatly to the right, but partially over his forehead.

"This about last night?" Joey asked.

"Chief," Mathews corrected. Good order and discipline was his job.

"Chief," Joey said, and stood slightly more formal. Diana did not tell him to relax.

"It is. Why did you let the woman stay in the house?" she asked.

"Her address was correct," he said.

"Doesn't mean it's her house. You know how easy it is to forward your mail then claim residency. We've had two squatter scenarios in the last year alone. I think I remember you responding to one of them."

"I had to make a call..."

"...so you decided the best way to handle a residency dispute was to pick a side?" Diana asked. Joey did not know what to say to that and stammered.

"I didn't pick a side..."

"...yes, you did," Diana said bluntly. "You let her stay in the house. Then got dick slapped by his lawyer, forcing us to pull the woman out kicking and screaming because you picked the wrong side."

"What do you want me to say Chief?" Joey asked.

"Get a rep and get your story straight," Diana said, and he nodded. "Did you have any reason to believe he could have been the owner of the house?"

"No," Joey said while shaking his head.

"Stick to that," Diana said, then dismissed him. Matthews silently observed her for a moment before she realized she was still holding the donut. Unsure of what to do with it, she simply took a bite.

"I can stop by, do some damage control," Matthews offered.

"Staff Sergeant Hopper said the guy had money for a lawyer," Diana said after swallowing.

"It was an author named Riley Blake. I looked him up, and he has some cash to burn for sure," Matthews said, and waited for her to finish the last bite in case she said something in response.

"No shit? My daughter reads his books," Diana said. "That means media."

"I've already told the boys don't even think about it," Matthews said. "Want me to try to make peace?"

"Let me do it," Diana said, then looked around the room for something to wipe her fingers on. Shame to have such a clean uniform ruined by powdered sugar. "Someone with some stars says we're taking it seriously."

"Your call Chief," Matthews said, then excused himself so he could get off shift and go home.

--

Diana briefed Chief Frasier on the potential lawsuit, and then waited until after lunch before driving over to Riley's house. She chose to wear her uniform for the conversation. After stepping out of her car, she checked herself in the reflection, then marched to his front door. She tucked her hat between her elbow and hip and knocked firmly three times.

Diana could see movement from inside. The moment she felt compelled to knock again, the sounds associated with a door opening began. Only it sounded like the chain being put on, not slid off.

"Yes?" Riley asked from the crack in the door. Diana stood a little straighter.

"Good afternoon. Mr. Blake?" she asked.

"Yes, what do you want?" he asked.

"Hello sir, I'm the Deputy Chief of the Ferry Grove Police Department, Diana Jackson. May I come in?" she asked. People were generally nice to police in town, so she was already prepping her foot to step forward.

"No," Riley said, and she nearly tripped whilst standing still. "We can talk outside though. Would you mind taking a step back so I can exit?"

"Of course," she said, hiding her surprise best she could. She did not recall the last time someone said no to her. Diana stepped out of the way so Riley could leave his home and close the door. For good measure, he also locked it.

"Are you damage control?" Riley asked.

"I'm here to address the concerns of a member of the community," Diana replied, keeping her calm and posture.

"My concern is a police department who arrests the homeowner who called them in the first place," Riley said, and Diana felt her fingers tapping her hat anxiously.

"My officer had limited information and had to make an assessment," she said to be diplomatic.

"Your officer let a woman who I didn't know, walk around a house she had no lawful business being in. Believe the woman was his assessment," he said.

"Like I said, his information was limited."

"In that case, he should have refrained from making a judgement until he gathered more facts," Riley said sharply, and Diana felt her shoulders slump. She wanted to say something but knew it would only undermine her. She knew Joey messed this up. How does she apologize without throwing him entirely under the bus she wondered.

"They say hindsight is twenty-twenty," Diana said, smiling a little. She instantly knew Riley perceived that the opposite way she intended.

"Then a fat fuck detective interrogated me for hours, alluding to me being a sexual deviant and predator who was stalking this poor woman. With no evidence, at all. If that's the analytical prowess of your detectives, then it's no wonder that's how your patrol officers behaved," he said. Diana bit her lip. She was not angry at Riley, but at Detective Foster. He had of history of digging for facts. This might have been a bridge too far.

"I would like to apologize for the judgement of my staff," she said, and Riley crossed his arms over his chest.

"Fire them," Riley said, and Diana blinked. "I'll drop any pending litigation if they're fired. At least the detective. The patrol officer I kind of get. Still dumb, but at least he has something resembling a reason."

"They're public employees. It's not as easy as me walking in and telling them to clear out their locker," Diana explained.

"See you in court then," Riley said, and stepped to his door with his key ready to unlock it.

"We have an investigation open on the incident..."

"...let me guess. Police investigate police and clear police?" Riley asked without looking at her. He unlocked his door and stepped in.

"Sir, it's more complex than..." is what Diana managed to say before Riley shut the door in her face. "...fuck."

--

Diana had to end her day by informing the chairman of the city council that Riley was going to move forward with his lawsuit. She was then directly told to consider firing her officers to appease him. The city was all for pursuing court when the person suing them didn't have the money for prolonged litigation. Riley did have the funds for it and seemed to be suing on principle.

"Fucking rich, entitled, cock munch," Diana said to herself after pulling into her driveway at the end of the day. Part of her ritual on rough workdays, was to vent in her car before going inside her house. Work stays outside of the home.

Chief of Police was humoring his retirement, and she was ready to pounce on the opportunity. So long as nothing egregious happens between now and the time he signs the paperwork. Riley could be the difference between her getting the big desk or retiring with him.

"Mother fucker!" Diana said, slapping her steering wheel in frustration. Seven years in the Chicago PD, followed by sixteen years in Ferry Grove. Twenty-three years of her life, only to get knee capped by a writer.

After taking her moment, she exited her car and walked up the sidewalk path flanked by short evergreen bushes and illuminated by solar powered lights staked into the grass. Nineteen steps from car to door is all she had to turn her career off. Once she entered, her second job as mother resumed.

The living room was tidy and dark. No lights from lamps or the television. The first light she saw was from the kitchen. The dishes were clean, and evidence of her daughter having completed her homework was present by her notebook stacked on her AP Chemistry textbook. Whitney was likely in her room reading with the bowl of popcorn the kitchen still smelled of.

"That's my girl," Diana said, and admired the fact she came home to a clean and quiet house.

Diana undid the laces of her dress shoes, and then carefully slid them into the cubical storage shelf next to the door. Her jacket was placed onto a hanger, then hung in the coat closet. She saw Whitney had made her a plate of food, but wanted to check on her before heating it up. Climbing the stairs to the second floor, she stopped at Whitney's room, the first to the left, and peeked through the crack before slowly pushing it open.

"Hey," Diana said, leaning against the doorframe.

Whitney was laying across her bed in a tank top and volleyball shorts, absorbed into the book she was reading while propped up on her elbows. Her hair fashion of the month was straight, but that could change at a moment's notice. Whatever helped keep the attention from her purple braces and glasses.

Her room was covered like any young woman's with posters and knickknacks to express her individuality. Instead of posters of boys, her room was decorated with wall scrolls from Japanese Anime. Next to her on the bed was a body pillow with an anime character on the pillowcase. Every time her mother called it a pillowcase, she would groan and say it was a dakimakura. Her bookshelf was filled floor to ceiling with manga, with several exceptions of western authors. Including Riley Blake.

"Hey mom," Whitney said, lowering the manga from her hands. "I made dinner."

"I saw, thanks. How was school?" Diana asked.

"School was school," Whitney said, not confirming it was good or bad. Just another day. "How was work?"

"Rough actually," Diana said. She never lied to Whitney about how her day was. It helped her daughter predict her mood and made it easy to live with each other. "We might get sued."

"Yikes," Whitney said, and Diana stepped into her room to look at her bookshelf. "Finally gonna read a manga?" Whitney had been trying to get her mother into manga and anime for years. It just wasn't her thing.

"Nah, but maybe this one," she said, then picked up the first book from Riley Blake she could find. "Any good?" Order of the Shattered Cross.

"Blake? Awesome. They're turning that series into a Netflix show next year," Whitney explained.

"Know anything about the guy?" Diana asked.

"Why are you asking?"

"Just curious."

"He wrote the series to help him get through the death of his wife," Whitney said, and Diana looked at Riley's picture behind the back cover. "He didn't come up easy either. Eastern Kentucky, dirt poor, spent a lot of time homeless as a kid. Was abused in foster homes, really rough. He reminds me a lot of you actually. Chicago ain't Kentucky, but I'd think you two would have a lot in common."

Diana heard that, and instantly felt ashamed she assumed so much about him just minutes before. She realized she went into that conversation wrong. She also realized the conversation was salvageable.

"Do you want to meet him?"

--

Diana called Riley early in the morning and asked if he would be interested in talking again. When he flatly said no, Diana said she'd be at a popular diner in downtown Ferry Grove if he changed his mind. Something about that offer, she just knew he wouldn't be able to resist. It was friendly enough, and he would at the very least do a drive by.

"I'm calling bull on you mom," Whitney said after ordering her breakfast. Whitney came for the food, not the prospect of meeting Riley Blake. There was no way he was coming, and no way he was the person suing her mother's work. Interesting things like that just didn't happen in Ferry Grove. Nice, pleasant, and boring town.

"You'll see," Diana said while she sipped her coffee. They sat next to the window and watched the weekend traffic of teenagers boarding the metro to Chicago. As her second cup of coffee was being poured, she saw Riley's Mercedes pull to the curb across the street.

"Did you bring your book?" Diana asked.

"Yeah, but only because you said he was coming. I still don't fully believe you," she said. Whitney noticed her mother was looking at someone outside, so followed her eyes straight to her favorite author. "Holy shit."

"Language," Diana said, as she gave a polite wave so he could see her. His face was difficult to read from across the street, but he returned the wave at a bare minimum. Diana watched with restrained humor at her daughter's stunned reaction. She was absolutely starstruck.

Riley entered the diner and stood in front of the table. Instead of addressing him immediately, Diana let him stew in the awkwardness of her teenaged daughter gawking at him. Admiring the tactic, Riley chuckled a little and blinked first.

"Morning ladies," Riley said.

"Morning," Diana said, taking a sip of her coffee, then looked at Whitney. "Whitney."

"Morning, Riley...Mr. Blake," she stammered out in a half shout.

"Riley is fine," he said.

"Okay...um...could you..." Whitney said, then began to dig through her bag. "Um...sign my...my book?" The book fumbled from her hands and tumbled off the table. Riley calmly leaned down and picked it up off the ground.

"Absolutely," Riley said, and dug into his pocket. "I don't have a pen."

"Maybe I do, hold on...just a moment...come on..." Whitney said while frantically digging through her bag.

"Relax, easy solution," Riley said, then walked to the bar of the diner. A server walked over, and he asked if she had a pen. She did and he said he would be right back. "See, easy. Do you want it personalized?"

"Sure."

"From Riley Blake, to..." he asked, his voice almost sounding like a tease.

"Whitney," she said, and he finished the autograph.