Available at Barnes & Noble for $19.95: I REMEMBER TOMORROW
ISBN: 1-4241-8890-3
Visit the I Remember Tomorrow website.
The previous excerpt from this book was from Chapter 5. I chose it because it dealt with Jeanette's strife more so than with the early parts of the book. Here, however, is a portion of the opening chapter. It deals with her arrival in her struggle to find a new life.
Chapter One
Soft rain fell on the patrol car’s windshield making the wipers squeak. Jeanette sat in the passenger seat, biting her lower lip and feeling nervous. Her first day with the police department was an hour old and she hadn’t done anything terrible yet.
So far, so good, she thought.
The driver’s door opened and a tall, slim man slid behind the wheel. He pulled off his hat and shoved it between the headrest and the cage behind the front seat.
Stuart didn’t care for rookies or women who thought they were cops. Both reasons prompted the police chief to make him Jeanette’s field training officer.
"Well, Henderson," he fastened his seat belt, "you ready to deal with it?"
Jeanette nodded.
Stuart pulled the gearshift down into drive and eased away from the curb.
"You check everything out already?"
Jeanette nodded again.
"Hey," he spoke without taking his eyes from the road, "Henderson."
"Yes, sir," she brought her head up from the patrol report she’d been filling out.
Stuart pulled up to a stop sign and put the car back in park then turned to Jeanette.
"Let’s lay down a couple of ground rules before we get off on the wrong foot. First off, when somebody asks you a question you answer; with your mouth not your head. I know you got a lotta loose stuff up there but I can’t tell whether you shakin’ it or noddin’ by the way it rattles. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And my name’s Stuart, not sir. Understand?"
"I understand."
Stuart put the car back in drive, moved around the corner and headed toward the center of town.
With a population of fewer than seven thousand, Chimney’s police department consisted of only seven fulltime officers. Jeanette was the newest. She landed the job when a rash of burglaries and thefts forced the city council to hire more people.
"Here’s another rule for you," Stuart turned onto the town square and pulled behind a line of cars waiting for a traffic light. "Spend more time watchin’ what’s goin’ on out the window than what’s on your clipboard. You can always get your paperwork caught up later."
Jeanette laid the clipboard on the seat between them.
"What is it you don’t like about me?"
Stuart shrugged.
"Ain’t it obvious?"
"I’m a woman?"
"That’s part of it." The light changed and Stuart followed the cars through the intersection. "I’m used to working with people who’ve been in the business for a while. You know; they usually know a little more about what they’re doin’. A rookie can get you hurt. That bothers me. So, I don’t much care for rookies."
Jeanette wanted to ask him how long he’d been brain dead. It came out, "So how long you been a cop?"
"This’ll be my second year with Chimney." He turned onto a residential street and slowed their speed to a crawl. As he drove, his eyes moved carefully from house to house. "I was with Jamesboro for five years before I came here. The pay’s better here and the insurance too. Linda was pregnant then and I had to think about that."
"So," Jeanette shifted in her seat, "I guess that gives me about three years more experience."
Stuart glanced in her direction.
"I did just over ten years as a cop in the army," she explained, not returning what had become an angry glare.
"My last assignment was with a drug suppression team in Germany. I wasted a guy in a bar when a setup went bad. The army started given me a ration of crap over it. Things at home were for shit too. My husband was a civilian; worked at the PX, which is the army version of a department store; and I found out he was sleepin’ around whenever I was on duty. I told him to pack his bags and then I filed for a divorce. I got out when it was final."
"So you weren’t a real cop. You was just an MP?"
Stuart was trying to find a way to win back his pride.
"Just an MP," she spat with as much indignation as she could muster. "You know I caught a load of that crap at the rinky-dink academy you guys go to around here. What is it with you civilians? You think all we did was break up bar fights or somethin’?"
"Hey," Stuart hadn’t expected such a sharp response, "I’m sorry. I wasn’t ever in the service…"
"Hey," Jeanette said, mockingly, "I won’t hold it against you. And by the way, that car’s fixin’ to run that stop sign."
Stuart jerked the patrol to the left and slammed on the brakes as a red panel van drove full speed through the stop sign. It missed the patrol by inches then pulled to the curb after clearing the intersection.
Stuart flipped a switch that turned on the red lights and eased in behind the van. He reached for the radio mike and grabbed Jeanette’s hand.
"I’ll radio it in," she said as she pulled the mike from its rack and stepped out to stand behind the open car door.
Stuart exited, waited until the radio dispatcher acknowledged their location, then started toward the driver’s door of the van.
Jeanette laid the mike on the car seat and walked to the back of the van. Peeking through the rear window, she saw half a dozen video recorders covering the van floor. She tried the handle on the back door before moving along the side toward the front.
Just before reaching the window of the passenger door something flashed through her mind: an image of the driver pushing a gun into Stuart’s face.
She unholstered her pistol, brought it up and slowly eased forward. She stopped when she reached the open passenger window and the scene in her mind matched the one in reality.
"Hey, asshole," she struggled to keep her voice calm, "you wanna die young?"
She could see Stuart’s face, pale and blank as he stared into the muzzle of the driver’s gun. All she could see of the driver was his long, black hair and the back of his denim jacket.
"Looks like we gotta situation," the man answered without turning.
"Looks that way," Jeanette felt her heart pounding in her chest and silently ordered it to slow down. "Problem is, I don’t think you understand your options."
"Oh I understand, alright," his voice quivered. "You’re gonna put your gun down or I’m gonna blow him away."
Jeanette had a brief flashback to a bar in Germany and a similar situation that ended with the death of a young boy too scared to reason. She pushed the thought to the back of her mind.
"And what happens after you kill him?"
A moment of silence as the driver considered the question; then, without further comment, he slowly held his gun to the side and let it dangle on his finger from the trigger guard.
Stuart was still frozen in place.
"Grab the gun, Stuart."
His hand flashed up and snatched the revolver. Jeanette moved around the front of the van, keeping her pistol trained on the driver and stopped when she came around to the street side where could see the man’s face.
"Open the door, Stuart, and get him on the ground."
Stuart complied, although his movements were slow and mechanical. After placing the man on the ground, he pulled handcuffs from a pouch on his pistol belt.
When their prisoner was secured, Jeanette holstered her gun and took in a deep breath.
"Get on the radio," she ordered. "Tell the dispatcher we’re okay and we’ll be bringin’ one in. And get a wrecker out here for his car."
Stuart stood and started toward the patrol. Two steps later he stopped and turned back to Jeanette.
"Thanks."
She smiled.
"No problem."
"Hey," the man on the ground tried to squirm into a sitting position, "you just gonna leave me down here?"
"Hey," Jeanette reached into a pocket on her uniform shirt and extracted a card, "what’s your name, anyway?"
"Johnny Cummings," he turned his head to look up at Jeanette, "and I know my rights. You can’t just leave me like this."
"Count your blessings, Johnny." She fingered the card with one hand, while resting the other on the butt of her gun. "You could be dead right now. And just so I know that you know your rights, let me read them to you before you say anythin’ else."
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