Vandermein

IV

"I was a perfect candidate for detective. I earned my bachelor's in criminal justice taking night classes between shifts at the precinct, working as a beat cop, making rounds and whatnot. I was the woman who ironed her uniform every morning before her shift; I spent my weekends volunteering at soup kitchens and homeless outreach centers, sewing goodwill. I was top of my class at the academy, at my university, and in every professional development program I volunteered for.

"I'm sure it sounds like I'm gloating, but I'm not. This is relevant. I started applying for detective as soon as my five years' experience requirement was met. I was promoted in the first round, and although it didn't make me very popular among my more experienced colleagues, I got to where I wanted to go. For now.

"Anyway, it was Detective Boone who mentored me through the application process and onboarding. He was like a dad to me, gently pushing me to achieve more, helping me with the application's wording and calling in favors for my file to be considered more seriously. I didn't know at the time why he was doing doing it. I thought that maybe he saw something promising in me, like my work had spoken for itself and he thought that I could make a difference.

"As soon as the ceremony ended and I was given my new detective badge and an office, things changed. Boone started showing up to my apartment in the middle of the night, taking me out for 'special assignments.' We would sit in parking garages in his personal car, and he would ramble nonsensically about how corrupt the world is, how backwards we've become, how there's no more honor in police work. He would gaze through binoculars, but wouldn't tell me what he looking at. He talked about you a lot too, I'm sure could guess. He said that you were a symptom of a greedy society, a leech. The only time he smiled was when he would fantasize out loud about the ways he'd kill you. It was... unsettling.

"One day when I was off, I started doing a little digging. I learned that the building we'd been watching was his ex-wife's apartment building. The next day I approached him about my findings. I told him that I was uncomfortable working as his partner further and that I felt he was crossing a professional boundary not only with me, but with his ex-wife's privacy.

"That night, he showed up to my apartment and proceeded to beat me with a pipe. He was quiet, covering my mouth as he did it. He told me that no one would believe my story if I reported him, that cops stick together. Then he injected me with something, and it made me feel like I was flying. I think it was drugs, enough that if I reported him and they did a drug test on me, I'd fail.

"When I came to, he was gone. He stopped taking me on late night excursions, but I didn't stop investigating him. I'm no victim, Doctor Vandermein. Detective Boone is trying to place you at the harbor, fabricating evidence, getting obsessive about it. I'm not your biggest fan--no one in the district is--but I think you're innocent, and I think the killers are still out there.

"What's more, since you are notoriously 'self-interested,' as you like to tell the journalists, I figure you're the best ally I have against Boone.

"I know I'm breaking about a million protocols by being here, and I'm betraying my boss, but there are dead kids washing up on the beach and a psychopath with a gun and a badge who knows where I live.

"So, what do you think?"