The Ties That Bind Read Online Free

sympathy.
    "Both of us come in fresh," Fiona muttered.
"I was off duty this weekend and this is your first day. So be forewarned
about the culture shock."
    Gail slid out of the booth and stood up to her full height,
her ramrod straight posture emphasizing her bosom. Standing, Fiona, who was a
mere five-seven, was able to see the full extent of the woman's size. As they
walked past the booths, all heads turned to inspect Gail, this magnificent
phenomenon.
    Fiona had, at first, expected to feel some sense of
sympathetic embarrassment for the woman because she was so conspicuous, but as
she followed in her wake and watched the shocked inspection of the gauntlet,
she felt, instead, pride, pride in her gender.
    Outside, as they moved in tandem toward the headquarters
building, Fiona could not contain herself.
    "You are something, Gail. I'm going to enjoy seeing
the looks on the faces of our colleagues when I introduce you around."
    Gail made no comment. Her thoughts seemed elsewhere.
Certainly, she had learned years ago how to cope with other people's reactions
to her, although, watching her peripherally as they walked, Fiona could sense
that there was something else that went with this territory of lofty
magnificence.
    She wondered if that something else was loneliness.

3
    As expected, the various members of the homicide division
could not take their eyes off of her, men and women alike. Fiona knew, of
course, that those that affected the personas of insatiable studs, the crotch
grabbers, would fantasize challenges. Others might be contemptuous, perhaps
even jealous of her commanding physicality.
    The Eggplant managed to conceal his Monday morning
irritation for a brief polite moment in which he made his general introduction
of welcome to the new officer.
    "We welcome you to the fold, Officer Prentiss, and
wish you luck. You'll need it here in the murder capital of America. We are the hired hands of an indifferent society, modern civilization's human
garbage collectors. We are the avengers of those who dare to violate the sixth
commandment, 'Thou Shalt Not Kill.'"
    He took a deep breath, impressed with this little homily to
the newly arrived. His nostrils quivered and he patted the side pocket of his
pants in a reflexive search for matches to light his once ever-present
panatelas, now outlawed in the building. He chewed them unlit now.
    "Ladies and gentlemen, we have had ten murders this
weekend, our usual fare." The statistic had already been posted in the
squad room. It was no mystery to most of those present, some of whom had worked
on them over the weekend. A number, the obvious ones, had already been closed,
the killers apprehended. Others, they all knew, would never be closed.
    The Eggplant droned on, cataloguing the most difficult
cases, describing the circumstances. Two children had been killed by drive-bys
and the leads had already evaporated in the melting fear of the eyewitnesses.
After about a half-hour of this recital, his message became a harangue and he
worked himself into a sweating stew of frustration and anger. He was obviously
tired and overworked, overwrought and besieged.
    One of the children was a nine-year-old female and it fell to
them, under the Eggplant's new dictum, to take the case, following up the scene
work done by colleagues during the weekend mop-up. The child had been playing
in an alley beside her house in southeast Washington. Suddenly there was a
spray of bullets from a semi-automatic and another innocent child was caught in
the crossfire, a common by-product of the city's gang wars.
    Both Fiona and Gail knew the drill. There would be no
credible witnesses. The parent, usually a single mother, would be paralyzed
with shock, the grandparent, invariably a single woman not quite out of her
thirties, would be livid with uncontrolled rage and a great-grandmother,
church-going, law-abiding, self-sacrificing, would view the spectacle with
resignation and despair, a family of female victims.
    Heading