So she applied for a position. There was a written test, a physical fitness test, and a battery of interviews. They all went well, and her interviewers made clear that if she passed the background check, the psychology tests, and the polygraph, she was a shoo-in.
She had a little trouble with the psychology test and the polygraph. She thought she was saying the right things, but apparently her hostility to rapists and child abusers leaked through her attempts at bland “serve and protect” professionalism. And they told her there was some evidence of deception regarding whether she had ever committed a serious crime. She was surprised about that, because she didn’t consider anything she had ever done to be criminal. Not really. But she stuck with her answers, and in the end, the powers that be must have decided that a few psychological blips and some indicia of deception weren’t much compared to a straight-A student with a degree in criminology who was a top judo competitor and a minority female on top of it. They offered her a position, and she immediately accepted.
That summer, she sold the Ninja, rented a truck, put her few possessions in back, drove to Seattle, rented a cheap walk-up in the International District, and entered the Basic Law Enforcement Academy. For the next six months, she studied the Constitution and the law of justified use of force, much of which she already knew from SJSU; various Washington State and Seattle ordinances; pursuit and precision driving; proper entry and clearing rooms; handcuffing suspects; use of firearms, the Taser, and pepper spray, and much more. As part of the training, everyone had to get pepper-sprayed and tased. Being tased was excruciating, but she didn’t mind. She knew it was important for recruits to know the effects of weapons, and to know they were tough enough to keep fighting even when they were hurt. But it made her uncomfortable when everyone laughed at the tased recruits’ contorted faces and howls of agony. She was stoical about her own pain. But it hurt her to see pain in others.
Unless, of course, they deserved it.
She missed the Ninja, and though the Pacific Northwest climate was nowhere near as good for riding as what she’d left in the Bay Area, she broke down and bought a new bike: a Ducati Streetfighter. And a battered, used Jeep Wrangler, for when the weather made the Streetfighter unsafe to ride.
She excelled in all her courses, and quickly developed a reputation as a star. Not everyone liked that. She knew there were rumors that her success was due to her looks, and maybe even sexual favors. None of it was true. Yes, she got a lot of attention from the male trainers, but she didn’t seek or even want any of it. There were some good-looking SPD cops—a detective named Mike Devine in particular, who was one of the lecturers and who had a cowboy vibe she liked—but she wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t going to let anyone she worked with get inside, literally or figuratively. It was too likely to cause trouble.
Although the irony was, refusing all advances, refusing even to flirt, caused trouble anyway. The cops who came on to her and got shot down told their buddies she was probably a dyke. Because of course, a woman who didn’t share a man’s inflated opinion of himself could only be a lesbian. Meanwhile, there really were lesbians on the force, but she kept them at arm’s length, too. Her sexuality, like her life, was a mystery, which of course only made the topic more alluring. In retrospect, she wondered if she would have been better off putting on a ring and pretending she had a husband before entering the academy. But the idea came to her too late to matter.
Her self-defense skills were another source of attention. There wasn’t an instructor at the academy she couldn’t crush on the mat. Everyone knew about the judo, of course, and reactions varied. Some of the guys had to test themselves against her, and were embarrassed by the results. Some were intimidated. A few, though, were respectful and appreciative, and had no problem asking her to share her knowledge. And a few of the women, too, rather than being jealous and treating her like a freak, asked if she would teach them. She was happy to, and made her first friends in the process.
A year after arriving in Seattle, she was a full-fledged patrol cop. Rick came to her graduation ceremony. Gavin couldn’t make it, but Rick brought a gift from both of them: a SIG Sauer P238 subcompact with black pearl grips—“petite, beautiful, and not to be fucked with, just like you,” Rick said. She was so overwhelmed at finally being a cop, and by the perfect gift, that she hugged him, and was surprised when she let him go to see he had teared up a little. He gave an embarrassed laugh and said, “You’ve just never been much of a hugger. But that was nice. Really nice. I’d even take another, if you don’t mind.”