“It’s like you and your ex-wife own this little dog, and the doggie spends part of the time at her house and part of the time at yours. Maybe your ex doesn’t mind if the dog climbs all over her damn furniture, but you do. When the dog goes to her house, he does whatever the hell he damn well pleases, but when he’s at your house, he lives by your rules. Got it?”
Joanna didn’t even have to look to know that guy in the front row was nodding once again. Disgusted by what she’d heard, and convinced the whole training experience was destined to be nothing more than five weeks of hot air, Joanna folded her arms across her chest, sighed, and sank down in her seat. Next to her at the table sat a tall, slender young woman with hair almost as red as Joanna’s
Using one hand to shield her face from speaker’s view, the other woman grinned in Joanna’s direction then crossed both eyes. Wary that Thompson might have spotted the derogatory gesture, Joanna glanced in the speaker’s direction, he was far too busy pontificating to notice the humorous byplay. Relieved, Joanna smiled back. Somehow that bit of schoolgirlish high-jinks made Joanna feel better. If nothing else, it convinced that she wasn’t the only person in the room who regarded Dave Thompson as a loudmouthed, over-bearing jerk.
“Our mission here is to turn you people into police officers,” Thompson continued. “It’s not easy, and it’s gonna get down and dirty at times. If you two ladies think you’re going to come through course looking like one of the sexy babe lawyers t used to be on L.A. Law, you’d better think again.”
The redhead at the table next to Joanna scribbled a hasty note on a yellow notepad and then pushed it close enough so Joanna could read it. “Who has time to watch TV?” the note asked.
This time Joanna had to cough in order to suppress an involuntary giggle. She had never watched the show herself, but according to Eva Lou,
Thompson glowered once in Joanna’s direction, but he didn’t pause for breath. “Out on the streets it’s gonna be a matter of life and death—your life or your partner’s, or the life of some innocent bystander. Every department in the state has a mandate to bring more women and minorities on board. Cultural diversity is okay, I guess,” he added, sounding unconvinced.
“It’s probably even a good thing, up to a point—as long as those new hires are all fully qualified people. And that’s where the APOA comes in. The buck stops here. The training we offer is supposed to help separate the men from the boys, if you will. The wheat from the chaff. The people who can handle this job from the wimps who can’t. We’re going to start that process here and now. Could I have a volunteer?”
Pausing momentarily, Thompson’s gray eyes scanned the room. Naturally the guy in the front row, the head-bobber, raised his hand and waved it in the air. Thompson ignored him. Tapping the end of the pointer with one hand, he allowed his gaze to come to rest on Joanna. A half smile tweaked the corners of his mouth.
“My mother always taught me that it was ladies before gentlemen. Tell the class your name.”
“Joanna,” she answered. “Joanna Brady.”
“And where are you from?”
“Cochise County,” Joanna answered.
“And how long have you been a police officer now?” he asked.
“Less than two weeks.”
Thompson nodded. “That’s good. We like to get our recruits in here early—before they have time to learn too many bad habits. And why, exactly, do you want to be a cop?”
Joanna wasn’t sure what to say. Each student in the class wore a plastic badge that listed his or her name and home jurisdiction. The badges gave no indication of rank. Hoping to blend in with her classmates, Joanna wasn’t eager to reveal that, although she was as much of
