“Yes, Chief. I just wish I knew for what.”
He laughed loudly and released her hand. As expected, he took the head chair. He looked directly at her. “Law enforcement is changing, Detective Dare. Starting today. And you’re going to be a part of it.”
He paused a moment as if waiting for a response, so she gave him the B.S. he expected. “Happy for the opportunity, Chief. I won’t let you down.”
He leaned forward with unconcealed glee. “The government has officially acknowledged the existence of a sixth sense. In conjunction with the FBI, they’ve initiated an experimental program called Sixers. This program—”
“Excuse me, Chief. Did you say a sixth sense? As in, I can read your mind or move stuff just by thinking about it?”
“Yes, Detective, that’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
She had expected him to laugh. Had expected everyone else to join in. She had been prepared to be the butt of a joke for clarity’s sake.
She hadn’t been prepared for this. She did her best not to look comically thunderstruck.
“As I was saying,” he continued, “the Bureau has assembled a team of these Sixers, evaluated their—”
Chief Howard stopped, as if uncertain what to call their qualifications. Gifts? Talents? Superpowers?
“—abilities,”—he finished, after a moment—“then trained them at a specialized police academy. The first crop of recruits has graduated—”
“It isn’t my birthday,” she interrupted. “Y’all know that, right?”
“Excuse me, Detective?”
“I mean, I don’t know who put you up to this, or how they managed to get you involved, Chief Howard, but—”
“This isn’t a gag.”
He looked dead serious—they all did—but no way this wasn’t a gag. Sixth sense? Specialized police academies? It had to be bullshit.
“It’s one of those TV shows, isn’t it? That’s how they got you involved. They’re probably makin’ a big donation to the department and I hate to ruin all that, but the gig’s up.”
She stood and turned in a slow circle, looking for the video cameras. “C’mon out. You can bring in the next sucker.”
She expected a smiling show host and camera crew to magically appear. Maybe theme music to sound or confetti to fall.
Something other than this toilet-paper-stuck-to-the-bottom-of-your-shoe silence.
Major Nichols broke the silence. “You’d better sit back down, Micki. This is the real deal.”
Stunned, she sank back to her seat. “My apologies, Chief,” she said. “But I’ve got to be honest, y’all are starting to freak me out.”
He chuckled. “I reacted the same way. In fact, it took a bit longer for them to convince me my wife wasn’t behind it.” He leaned forward, hands folded on the table in front of him. “This is some pretty far-out stuff, but it’s happening. The first crop of recruits has graduated. An even dozen.”
He paused as if for dramatic effect. She wanted to tell him to get on with it, but figured that’d go over as well as a fart in church.
“The NOPD has been selected as one of the inaugural PDs to receive a recruit. He’s being assigned to the Eighth. Congratulations, Detective Dare, you have a new partner.”
Micki stared at him. No way he meant—
“You’ll be meeting him shortly. Detective Zach Harris.”
She shot to her feet. “With all due respect, Chief, hell no. Absolutely not.”
“It’s done, Detective. I suggest you consider it an honor.”
“An honor,” she repeated. “I don’t see how—”
“You have the opportunity to make history here,” Howard said. “As do we all. You’ll not jeopardize that.”
Nichols spoke up. “Sixers are being paired with tough, experienced cops. Part of your responsibility will be to keep your Sixer safe from harm. The government’s spent too much time and money training him to have him killed by some street thug.”
Retorts jumped to her tongue, ones about being a glorified babysitter. The look in Major Nichols’s eyes told her to keep them to herself.
“What kind of cop is this guy?” she asked. “What’s his service record?”
“He has no service record, Detective.”
“I don’t understand. If he has the rank of—”
Then she did. “He graduated from his hocus-pocus academy with the rank of detective. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
She saw from their expressions that she’d guessed correctly. It pissed her off. Big time. She, like every other sworn officer in the room, had worked for their rank, paying their dues by putting their lives on the line every stinking day.
“Son of a bitch, does he even know how to use a firearm?”