held her tight so she could keep a hand on her cheek. While they were en route Bollier tried to lighten up, even though she was fighting hypothermia.
“Well Mr. Ross. There’s one good thing that comes out of all this.”
“What’s that?”
“Now at least we know who bailed you out.”
Jordan snorted a laugh and shook his head.
At the 84 th precinct the detective and Jordan were greeted like conquering heroes at first. The precinct commander, one Captain Branden led a gratuitous round of applause and shook Jordan’s hand so hard he wondered if any bones were broken in the process. Bollier’s hair was still wet and she was shivering too much to sit still, so they led her back into the locker rooms and promised to debrief her only when she was ready and feeling up to it. Meanwhile, Jordan was given a blanket of his own and a steaming cup of coffee. Captain Branden showed him into a small conference room in the back of the station. Two more detectives were waiting there for him.
A rail-thin man with slick black hair and a bushy moustache introduced himself as Detective Morris Castillo. His demur partner Detective Casings, who didn’t offer his first name, looked like a former athlete gone to donuts. They both greeted Jordan warmly and thanked him for his help.
Castillo talked fast, and looked nervous like he had a coffee drip pouring directly into his veins.
“You really did a knockout job. We can’t thank you enough. Without our special little Leslie God only knows what we would do.”
Casings said thanks. The Captain offered Jordan a chair and he sat down, trying to fight down the adrenaline still rushing through his system. They asked him to go through what had happened exactly, from the moment Bollier picked him up from jail in Manhattan. He went through it in as much detail as he could remember. Jordan reviewed his conversation with Bollier about his wife’s field work, the collision on the bridge, the sun setting in his eyes, the shootout, to the pier, all of it.
Half way through his story Captain Branden got a page and excused himself to go take a call. Jordan finished up for the two detectives, who stared at him in reverential awe. Castillo stroked at his moustache.
“Holy shit man. That’s incredible. You’re like a regular Rambo. Where did you learn to do all that?”
Jordan Ross gave them a brief review of his career in the armed forces.
“I made Special Forces back in 89, just barely past 19 years old. I served twenty years. Wound some things up in St. Petersburg right after the Berlin wall came down. Saw some hairy action in the Gulf, both times around. Somalia, Kosovo. How’s that old Lucky Starr song go? I’ve been everywhere, man.”
Detectives Casings and Castillo laughed their heads off at that one. When he was through filling in some details in his service record , Castillo’s eyes glazed over. Jordan felt an uneasy sensation settling into his stomach that he could not explain. Castillo nodded several times and stood up.
“Well. I guess that you’ll want to be on your way. Thanks again for saving Leslie, really. We can’t thank you enough. You’re a real American hero.”
Jordan never liked the feeling of smoke being blown up his ass.
“That’s it then? I’m free to go?” Very quick the two detectives exchanged a look and then they both shrugged. “…no official statement for the record? No real debriefing or anything?”
Castillo snickered.
“Well there’s some paperwork for sure. But now hardly seems like the time for it. Bollier can help fill us in for tonight. You can come in any time next week to get it taken care of and we’ll all take you out for a beer. How’s that sound?”
Jordan pursed his lips and said that it sounded perfectly delightful. He shook Castillo’s hand and looked deep into his brown, golden flecked irises. The quiet detective Casings showed him the way out of the precinct and gave him money for a cab ride home.
…
Hair dried,
“Well Mr. Ross. There’s one good thing that comes out of all this.”
“What’s that?”
“Now at least we know who bailed you out.”
Jordan snorted a laugh and shook his head.
At the 84 th precinct the detective and Jordan were greeted like conquering heroes at first. The precinct commander, one Captain Branden led a gratuitous round of applause and shook Jordan’s hand so hard he wondered if any bones were broken in the process. Bollier’s hair was still wet and she was shivering too much to sit still, so they led her back into the locker rooms and promised to debrief her only when she was ready and feeling up to it. Meanwhile, Jordan was given a blanket of his own and a steaming cup of coffee. Captain Branden showed him into a small conference room in the back of the station. Two more detectives were waiting there for him.
A rail-thin man with slick black hair and a bushy moustache introduced himself as Detective Morris Castillo. His demur partner Detective Casings, who didn’t offer his first name, looked like a former athlete gone to donuts. They both greeted Jordan warmly and thanked him for his help.
Castillo talked fast, and looked nervous like he had a coffee drip pouring directly into his veins.
“You really did a knockout job. We can’t thank you enough. Without our special little Leslie God only knows what we would do.”
Casings said thanks. The Captain offered Jordan a chair and he sat down, trying to fight down the adrenaline still rushing through his system. They asked him to go through what had happened exactly, from the moment Bollier picked him up from jail in Manhattan. He went through it in as much detail as he could remember. Jordan reviewed his conversation with Bollier about his wife’s field work, the collision on the bridge, the sun setting in his eyes, the shootout, to the pier, all of it.
Half way through his story Captain Branden got a page and excused himself to go take a call. Jordan finished up for the two detectives, who stared at him in reverential awe. Castillo stroked at his moustache.
“Holy shit man. That’s incredible. You’re like a regular Rambo. Where did you learn to do all that?”
Jordan Ross gave them a brief review of his career in the armed forces.
“I made Special Forces back in 89, just barely past 19 years old. I served twenty years. Wound some things up in St. Petersburg right after the Berlin wall came down. Saw some hairy action in the Gulf, both times around. Somalia, Kosovo. How’s that old Lucky Starr song go? I’ve been everywhere, man.”
Detectives Casings and Castillo laughed their heads off at that one. When he was through filling in some details in his service record , Castillo’s eyes glazed over. Jordan felt an uneasy sensation settling into his stomach that he could not explain. Castillo nodded several times and stood up.
“Well. I guess that you’ll want to be on your way. Thanks again for saving Leslie, really. We can’t thank you enough. You’re a real American hero.”
Jordan never liked the feeling of smoke being blown up his ass.
“That’s it then? I’m free to go?” Very quick the two detectives exchanged a look and then they both shrugged. “…no official statement for the record? No real debriefing or anything?”
Castillo snickered.
“Well there’s some paperwork for sure. But now hardly seems like the time for it. Bollier can help fill us in for tonight. You can come in any time next week to get it taken care of and we’ll all take you out for a beer. How’s that sound?”
Jordan pursed his lips and said that it sounded perfectly delightful. He shook Castillo’s hand and looked deep into his brown, golden flecked irises. The quiet detective Casings showed him the way out of the precinct and gave him money for a cab ride home.
…
Hair dried,
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