Sarah...
August 2020... Chicago...
Today, I had to go with Paul to a crime scene. Like I wouldn't rather be doing anything else. 
We get there and it's a bunch of drug dealers killed in an alleyway. Apparently, one of them was Paul's C.I in a drug cartel investigation.
We get there and the scene seems so grotesque; blood here and there, brain matter splattered all around. I pointed out that the direction of the blood splatter seemed to be focal on one point, which presumed that they were all killed by one person; all except the girl. I try to point that out only for me to get hushed by two other apparently stupid officers. Whom I call sergeants tweetle-dee and tweetle-dumb (in my head anyway).
Tweetle-dee: "Don't start yapping so soon newbie... we'll have to wait for CSI to get here first. You haven't earned a chance to speak at the big boys table". 
Tweetle-dumb: "yeah. Plus, what you're saying implies that this was a professional job. Why would someone hire a professional just to take out a bunch of thugs? You need to learn to think before you start yapping. This isn't some back of the water town where everyone's opinion matters. Why don't you go over there and paint your nails or something?"
I swear I was ready to punch both of them, not minding that they both stood towering over me before Paul stepped in. 
"Why don't you go get a statement from the owner of the diner back there? I'll deal with these guys". 
I walk away fuming while fantasizing about all the ways to kill two police officers without losing my job. 
I got to the diner, met with the owner and took his statement, which unsurprisingly was unhelpful, then I walked outside exhausted. After what seemed like I'd been staring into oblivion, I looked around to spot a familiar face. 
The guy from the bar in Berkeley. 
He walks over looking cute and bushy like he woke up on the right side of the bed. My mind instantly goes to dirty places.I wouldn't mind waking up with him... Damn! He's really hot...
I stop fantasizing for a moment because he's close and I ask 
"Are you stalking me?"
And he replies smugly.
"I should be asking you that. I live around here"
Is it just me or do cute guys have a way of sounding cocky even when they're not trying??
"Then what were you doing in Berkeley?"
"Business" he replied. We talked on and on and all I could remember was me sizing him up and trying to pierce through his shirt to picture his cleanly cut figure. How does someone appear so well shaped even when covered?
After talking for a while, he asked for my number; I thought for a minute about playing hard to get, but what the hell? I'd love to see those abs up close. So I gave him my number on paper without my name, but he caught on and asked. A laugh broke through and I told him my name, because lord knows we'd have gone on like that. 
Looking at his face, I could see a weird expression like a kid who just won a prize in kindergarten. And I was startled a bit. 
After navigating through the crime scene, we receive a message saying that the survivor of the murder scene has regained consciousness, so Paul and I go over to the hospital to try to get some answers. We get to the room to meet the poor guy covered in stitches and bandages, almost looking like a low-budget Egyptian mummy. Like they started wrapping him up only to either run out of bandages or just lose interest in the whole process.
"Good morning sir." I started. "Can you tell us what happened in the alleyway last night? The scene was grotesque and we're trying to make sense of it."
After much hesitation, he finally spoke.
"Me and the boys were just in the alley, minding our business, catching up with the waitress who works at the diner close by when this dude shows up acting all tough and starts flexing himself, we were just minding our business and not causing any trouble. But this guy wasn't just having it. It seemed like he was one of those army type people who just got back and was looking for a fight because he sprung on us and started beating all of us up.""So you mean one guy did this to all of you?" Paul cut in.
"Yeah. he was a really big guy. fast too.""Did this guy kill the waitress too?" I asked.
"Yes, he did."  He replied.
"But according to our findings, the waitress was killed by the gun held by your friend. Do you mind telling us why your friend had a gun?" I added.
"Look lady, I don't know what to tell you, I was knocked out before the waitress died. I didn't see no gun before then," he said, starting to seem agitated.
"Can you describe this guy who beat you guys up.""Yes. he was black, tall and......."
I looked up to see blood gushing out of his chest. I turned around and saw that someone had shot him through the window. I was instantly gripped with panic as I turned around to scan the area to see what had happened, but I couldn't as I was out of view of the window and before I could get there, there was no sign of the shooter.
An hour passed and there was no trace of the shooter and the trail had gone cold. The hospital alerted us that they found something odd in the bullet that was fired. I guess it's easier to get a crime lab in a hospital. And when the bullet was provided, they found out it was none other than the 11-95 shooter.
........ Is this guy haunting me?....

April 2020.... Chicago field office...

After the whole incident at the hospital, which I somehow got blamed for, it seemed like I was put on ice, mostly desk duty day in, day out.
Weeks and weeks of being treated like a trainee in this terrible precinct that seems to be run by an overwhelming amount of testosterone. Everything seemed to be a measure of strength. It seems like they have a competition for who could annoy me most on a daily basis and today, it seems like the captain is taking home first prize. 
Officers tweetle-dee and tweetle-dumb started the rout today talking about a drug bust they did about a week ago, mind you; and the story gets more inventive every time they narrate it. What appeared to be a single weed dealer they arrested for possession has now evolved into a full "21 jump street" type scenario with the action sequence upgraded everyday to match the listening ear. Getting more in depth when there's a lady present. The female cops just seem to soak it up and laugh flirtatiously every time. 
Don't you ladies have brains? Why does the fight sequence change with every explanation??
I was at my desk listening to their lies when a bunch of paperwork got slammed on my desk. 
"From the captain" I heard. I couldn't take it anymore, so I stood up and headed right for his office. I barged into the office looking serious.
"Is there a problem?" He asks. 
"I would like to know why I've been stuck on desk duty for the past weeks. I'm not even done with the last paperwork and you asked them to bring me more. Mind you, I'm not here to answer anybody's paperwork. I'm a police detective, not some desk monkey." 
And drawing out of context as usual, he says: 
"Are you trying to call the ones who did the paperwork before you monkeys? Don't you dare walk in here acting all high and mighty, know your place. When I gave you the chance to be on the field, you let a perp get killed on your watch, right in front of your face, by your lead case. So, if I say behind a desk is where you belong, then it's where you belong. You don't get to question me, you do as you're told. Don't come in here with your hormones taking over your tongue and talking nonsense. Know your place, woman."
Did this motherfucker just try to play the woman card with me??
"I di..." I was cut off. 
"You've barely started here and you think you could get some sort of preferential treatment because you think you look good? You better get something straight. This is a professional institution, you only get what's due to you because of how much you put in... To put it straight, you only get what you give."
I tried to get a word in... "But cap, all I've been doing is......""Out of my office now!" He cut me off again.
...What a dick!.....
I storm out the office fuming having accomplished nothing and still having a ton of paperwork to do. 
I got to my desk and saw a text from Matt on my phone.
"Hi. I haven't heard from you in a while." 
I've been dodging his calls and text on purpose. Somehow, I don't feel as comfortable talking to him on the phone as I did when we met. Our chats just seem stale. Then I received another text from him. 
"I hope your day is going as beautiful as you look?" 
I suddenly felt the urge to smile, so I replied to him. 
"Sorry I haven't reached out, it's been a hectic few weeks. On the question of my day, it's been terrible.""Your horrible boss again?""Right on the money! He's still being a serious ass.""If you'd like to talk about it, I'd like to take you out for dinner later tonight."
I thought about it for a while. I could do with some ab gazing tonight or maybe clean the old tunnel. It's been a while 
......"See you at 8". ....