He’d dated the same girl since high school and marriage came almost immediately after their graduation. Anna was a sweet girl. One year younger than Garcia with magnificent dark hazel eyes and short black hair, her beauty was unconventional but mesmerizing nevertheless. They had no children, a decision they’d made together – at least for the time being.
Garcia spent two years as a LAPD detective in north Los Angeles before being given a choice: a position with the Narcotics department or one with the Homicide division. He decided to take the Homicide job.
On the morning of his first day with the RHD Garcia had woken up a lot earlier than usual. He’d tried to be as quiet as possible, but that didn’t keep him from waking Anna. He needed to report to Captain Bolter’s office at eight-thirty, but by six-thirty he was already dressed in his best suit and found himself killing time in their small apartment on the north side of LA.
‘How do I look?’ he asked after his second cup of coffee.
‘It’s the third time you’ve asked me the same question,’ Anna laughed. ‘You look fine, babe. They are lucky. They are getting the finest detective in LA,’ she said as she softly kissed his lips. ‘Are you nervous?’
Garcia nodded and bit his bottom lip. ‘A little bit.’
‘There’s no need. You’ll be great.’
Anna was an optimist; finding the positive side to just about anything. She was happy for Garcia; he was finally achieving what he’d always wanted, but deep inside she felt scared. Garcia had experienced some close encounters in the past. He’d spent a week in hospital after a .44 caliber bullet shattered his collar bone and she’d spent a week in tears. She knew the perils that came with his job and she knew he would never shy away from danger, and that petrified her.
At exactly eight-thirty Garcia was standing in front of Captain Bolter’s office in the RHD building. He found it funny that the name on the door said ‘KONG.’ He knocked three times.
‘Come in.’
Garcia opened the door and stepped inside.
Captain William Bolter was now in his mid-sixties but he looked at least ten years younger. Tall, strong as an ox and sporting a full head of silvery hair together with a thick mustache, the man was a menacing figure. If the stories were true, he’d taken over twelve bullets in his time, and he was still standing.
‘Who the hell are you, Internal Affairs?’ His voice was firm but not aggressive.
‘No sir . . .’ Garcia stepped closer, handing over his forms. ‘Carlos Garcia, sir, I’m your new detective.’
Captain Bolter was sitting in his imposing high-backed swivel chair behind his rosewood desk. He flipped through the forms looking impressed at times before placing them on his desk. He didn’t need any paperwork to tell him Garcia was a good detective. No one was assigned to the RHD if they hadn’t shown a high level of competence and expertise, and according to Garcia’s track record, he had plenty.
‘Impressive . . . and you are exactly on time. Good start!’ the captain said after swiftly consulting his watch.
‘Thank you, sir.’
The captain walked up to the coffee machine in the far corner of his office and poured himself a cup, Garcia didn’t get offered one. ‘OK, first things first. You gotta lose that cheap suit. This is the Homicide division, not the fashion police. The guys out there are gonna crucify you.’ He gestured towards the detectives’ floor.
Garcia looked down at his suit. He liked that suit – it was his best suit – his only suit.
‘How long have you been a detective now?’
‘Two years, sir.’
‘Well, that’s remarkable. It usually takes a detective at least five to six years on the job before he’s even considered for the RHD. You either kiss a lot of ass or you are the real thing.’ With no reply from Garcia the captain continued. ‘Well, you might’ve been a good detective out there working for the LAPD, but this is Homicide.’ Sipping his coffee, he walked back to his desk. ‘Holiday camp is over, sonny. This is harder and definitely more dangerous than anything you’ve done before.’
‘I understand, Captain.’
‘Do you?’ He pinned Garcia with his intense gaze. His voice took a more ominous tone. ‘This job will mess with your head, kid. You’ll make more enemies than friends as a Homicide dick. Your old friends at the LAPD will probably hate you from now on. Are you sure this is what you want? Are you sure you are strong enough? And I’m not talking about physical strength here, sonny. Are you sure you’re ready?’
Garcia had half expected the
The captain looked back at Garcia, searching for a hint of fear, self-doubt maybe, but years of experience in character judging told him this kid wasn’t scared, at least not yet.
‘OK then, we’re done here. Let me introduce you to your new partner,’ he said, opening the door to his office. ‘Hunter . . . get in here,’ his loud voice resonating through the busy floor.
Hunter had just walked in. He was sitting at his desk stirring a cup of strong black coffee. His sleep-hangover made the captain’s voice sound like a heavy metal band. He calmly had a sip of the bitter-tasting liquid and felt it burn his lips and tongue. In the past few months Hunter’s insomnia had gotten worse, fueled by the constant nightmares. He’d sleep a couple of hours every night if he was lucky. His daily routine had become lethargic – bad headache, strong boiling-hot coffee, burnt mouth and onto the pile of second-rate cases on his desk.
Hunter didn’t knock, he simply opened the door and stepped inside. Garcia was standing next to the rosewood desk.
‘Yo! Captain, you’ve got the wrong man, I’m not in trouble with Internal Affairs,’ Hunter said biting the loose skin on his burnt top lip.
Garcia looked down at his suit again.
‘Sit down, Hunter, he isn’t IA.’ The captain paused, holding the suspense for a few seconds. ‘Meet your new partner.’
At first those words didn’t seem to register in Hunter’s ears. Garcia took two steps in Hunter’s direction and offered his hand. ‘Carlos Garcia, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective Hunter.’
Hunter left Garcia’s hand hanging in the air; in fact he didn’t move at all except for his eyes. Garcia could feel Hunter analyzing him, trying to size him up. It took Hunter twenty seconds to make his mind up about his new partner.
‘No thanks, Captain, I’m doing quite well on my own.’
‘The hell you are, Hunter!’ the captain said calmly. ‘Since Wilson’s death what have you been doing, office work and helping the LAPD with shoplifting and petty theft cases? Gimme a goddamn break. Anyway, you knew this was coming. Who did you think you were, Dirty Harry? Look, Hunter, I’m not gonna give you the bullshit speech about how great a detective you are and how you’re wasting your talent. You’re the best detective I’ve had under my command. You can figure things out that no one else can. Sixth sense, detective’s intuition, whatever you wanna call it; you’ve got it like no one else does. I need you back in Homicide and I need you sharp. You know I can’t have a Homicide dick on the streets on his own, it’s against regulations. You’re no use to me the way you are.’
‘And how’s that, Captain?’ Hunter shot back in a half-offended tone.
‘Have a look in the mirror and you’ll find out.’
‘So you gonna pair me up with a rookie?’ He turned to face Garcia. ‘No offense.’
‘None taken.’
‘We were all rookies once, Hunter,’ the captain said running his fingers over his Santa Claus mustache. ‘You sound just like Scott did when I told him I was getting him a new partner. He hated your guts at first remember? You were young and inexperienced . . . and just look at how you turned out.’
Garcia bit his lip trying not to laugh.
Hunter regarded him once again. ‘Oh, you think this is funny?’
Garcia tilted his head in a
‘Tell me, what sort of experience do you have?’ Hunter asked.
‘I’ve been a detective for the LAPD for two years,’ Garcia replied cheekily.
‘Oh, a local boy.’
Garcia nodded.
