school, but in the
dream she was six. They were all singing and walking along a path surrounded by
dense trees. Dark birds fluttered and cried out before the trees morphed into a
shadowy monster and a knife-like hand stabbed Rose in the chest.
“No!” Avery screamed.
Another hand stabbed Jack and both he and her daughter were
hoisted away.
“No! No! No!” Avery cried.
The monster lowered.
Dark lips whispered in her ear.
There is no justice.
Avery jolted awake to the sound of incessant ringing. She was
still on the terrace in her robe. The sun had already come up. Her phone
continued to blare.
She picked up.
“Black.”
“Yo Black!” Ramirez answered. “Don’t you ever pick up? I’m
downstairs. Get your shit together and get out here. I’ve got coffee and sketch
samples.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said and hung up.
The dream continued to permeate her thoughts. Sluggishly, Avery
rose and headed into the apartment. Her head pounded. Faded blue jeans were
tugged on. A white T-shirt was made respectable by a black blazer. Three chugs
of orange juice and a downed granola bar was breakfast. On the way out, Avery
glanced at herself in the mirror. Her attire, and her morning meal, were a far
cry from thousand-dollar suits and daily breakfast at the finest restaurants.
Get over it, she thought. You’re not here to look pretty. You’re here to bring
in the bad guys.
Ramirez handed her a cup of coffee in the car.
“Looking good, Black,” he joked.
As always, he appeared to be the model of perfection: dark blue
jeans, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a dark-blue jacket with light-brown
belt and shoes.
“You should be a model,” Avery grumbled, “not a cop.”
A smile displayed his perfect teeth.
“Actually, I did do a little modeling once.”
He pulled out of the breezeway and headed north.
“You get any sleep last night?” he asked.
“Not much. How about you?”
‘“I slept like a baby,” he said proudly. “I always sleep
well. None of this gets to me, you know? I like to let it ride ,” he said
and waved his hand through the air.
“Any updates?”
“Both boys were home last night. Connelly put a watch on them just
to make sure they didn’t bolt. He also talked to the dean to get some
information and make sure no one freaks out about a bunch of plainclothes cops
hanging around campus. Neither kid has a file. Dean said they’re both good boys
from good families. We’ll see today. Nothing yet from Sarah on the facial
recognition. We should hear something this afternoon. A few dealerships called
me back with names and numbers. I’m just going to keep a list for a while and
see what happens. You see the morning paper?”
“No.”
He pulled it out and threw it on her lap. In big, bold letters,
the headline read “Murder at Harvard.” There was another picture from Lederman
Park, along with a smaller photo of the Harvard campus. The article inside
rehashed the editorial from the previous day and included a smaller picture of
Avery and Howard Randall from their days in court together. Cindy Jenkins was
mentioned by name but there was no photo given.
“Slow day in the news?” Avery said.
“She’s a white girl from Harvard,” Ramirez replied, “of course
it’s big news. We gotta keep those white kids safe.”
Avery raised a brow.
“That sounds vaguely racist.”
Ramirez vigorously nodded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I’m probably a little racist.”
They wove through the streets of South Boston and headed over the
Longfellow Bridge and into Cambridge.
“Why’d you become a cop?” she asked.
“I love being a cop,” he said. “Father was a cop,
grandfather was a cop, and now I’m a cop. Went to college and got bumped up
quick. What’s not to love? I get to carry a gun and wear a badge. I just bought
myself a boat. I go out on the bay, chill out, catch some fish, and then catch
some killers. Doing God’s
dream she was six. They were all singing and walking along a path surrounded by
dense trees. Dark birds fluttered and cried out before the trees morphed into a
shadowy monster and a knife-like hand stabbed Rose in the chest.
“No!” Avery screamed.
Another hand stabbed Jack and both he and her daughter were
hoisted away.
“No! No! No!” Avery cried.
The monster lowered.
Dark lips whispered in her ear.
There is no justice.
Avery jolted awake to the sound of incessant ringing. She was
still on the terrace in her robe. The sun had already come up. Her phone
continued to blare.
She picked up.
“Black.”
“Yo Black!” Ramirez answered. “Don’t you ever pick up? I’m
downstairs. Get your shit together and get out here. I’ve got coffee and sketch
samples.”
“What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said and hung up.
The dream continued to permeate her thoughts. Sluggishly, Avery
rose and headed into the apartment. Her head pounded. Faded blue jeans were
tugged on. A white T-shirt was made respectable by a black blazer. Three chugs
of orange juice and a downed granola bar was breakfast. On the way out, Avery
glanced at herself in the mirror. Her attire, and her morning meal, were a far
cry from thousand-dollar suits and daily breakfast at the finest restaurants.
Get over it, she thought. You’re not here to look pretty. You’re here to bring
in the bad guys.
Ramirez handed her a cup of coffee in the car.
“Looking good, Black,” he joked.
As always, he appeared to be the model of perfection: dark blue
jeans, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a dark-blue jacket with light-brown
belt and shoes.
“You should be a model,” Avery grumbled, “not a cop.”
A smile displayed his perfect teeth.
“Actually, I did do a little modeling once.”
He pulled out of the breezeway and headed north.
“You get any sleep last night?” he asked.
“Not much. How about you?”
‘“I slept like a baby,” he said proudly. “I always sleep
well. None of this gets to me, you know? I like to let it ride ,” he said
and waved his hand through the air.
“Any updates?”
“Both boys were home last night. Connelly put a watch on them just
to make sure they didn’t bolt. He also talked to the dean to get some
information and make sure no one freaks out about a bunch of plainclothes cops
hanging around campus. Neither kid has a file. Dean said they’re both good boys
from good families. We’ll see today. Nothing yet from Sarah on the facial
recognition. We should hear something this afternoon. A few dealerships called
me back with names and numbers. I’m just going to keep a list for a while and
see what happens. You see the morning paper?”
“No.”
He pulled it out and threw it on her lap. In big, bold letters,
the headline read “Murder at Harvard.” There was another picture from Lederman
Park, along with a smaller photo of the Harvard campus. The article inside
rehashed the editorial from the previous day and included a smaller picture of
Avery and Howard Randall from their days in court together. Cindy Jenkins was
mentioned by name but there was no photo given.
“Slow day in the news?” Avery said.
“She’s a white girl from Harvard,” Ramirez replied, “of course
it’s big news. We gotta keep those white kids safe.”
Avery raised a brow.
“That sounds vaguely racist.”
Ramirez vigorously nodded.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I’m probably a little racist.”
They wove through the streets of South Boston and headed over the
Longfellow Bridge and into Cambridge.
“Why’d you become a cop?” she asked.
“I love being a cop,” he said. “Father was a cop,
grandfather was a cop, and now I’m a cop. Went to college and got bumped up
quick. What’s not to love? I get to carry a gun and wear a badge. I just bought
myself a boat. I go out on the bay, chill out, catch some fish, and then catch
some killers. Doing God’s
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