The real life of an American police officer: Winning over others with virtue

Chapter 290 Departure (Part 2)

But that's all there is to it.

Although there was cover outside, Eric could only finish making one window by himself.

As time passed amidst the roar of machinery, the setting sun began to dip westward, bathing the dust in the entire house in a warm golden hue.

The noise outside was eventually replaced by the clanging of tools being tidied up and the gradually increasing volume of conversation.

Eric stopped what he was doing and listened intently to what was happening outside.

"Alright, that's all for today!" It was the foreman Diego's voice: "The foundation has been poured, well done, guys, come back for maintenance tomorrow morning and lay out the maintenance blanket."

"Camillo, put the level and ruler away in my truck bed, don't forget them."

Then footsteps approached the door.

Eric moved the electric hammer to the corner, covered the mess by the window with a canvas, dusted himself off, and walked to the door.

The footsteps stopped, and Eric stopped too.

Ring ring! The doorbell rang.

Eric deliberately waited a few seconds before opening the door. Outside stood Diego's face with a simple, honest smile, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.

"Mr. Stevens, we've made about the required progress for today. The foundation trench has been dug, the steel bars have been tied, and the concrete has been poured. According to regulations, it needs to be cured for a few days before we can proceed to the next step."

“Very efficient, Diego, good job.” Eric nodded, glancing past him as he looked outside. Two other workers were packing up their tools and loading them onto the pickup truck.

“Of course.” Diego smiled.

"We'll come around eight o'clock tomorrow morning to do some maintenance and maybe tidy up the site a bit, but it won't be as noisy as it is today."

“No problem,” Eric said, indicating his understanding.

I should be there tomorrow.

Diego said, "Okay, we'll head out now. See you tomorrow, Mr. Stevens."

Eric glanced at the pickup truck: "See you tomorrow, drive carefully."

Diego waved his hand and turned to walk toward his pickup truck.

The pickup truck's engine roared to life, and Eric stood at the door, watching the taillights disappear into the distance.

The surrounding air instantly quieted down. He turned back into the house, closed the door, and continued to deal with the details on the side.

The result of this hands-on practice was that his architectural analysis LV1 improved to architectural analysis LV2 (proficient).

Although this skill doesn't seem very useful, Eric feels that he might need it in the future.

Because this skill is a complete jack-of-all-trades, it is a broad category in itself, and according to his feeling, it is further subdivided into many types.

Eric's gaze fell on the high-strength alloy bracket that had been preliminarily cut.

This thing will become the skeleton of the new window, the first solid bridge connecting the vulnerable interior with external threats.

But Eric didn't rush to weld; instead, he took a shower first.

If I'm not mistaken, the police station should be calling soon.

After he finished showering, he did receive a call, but it was to prepare himself mentally and to go to the police station at 10:30.

This time is later than the patrol officers' shift.

"It seems we won't be able to patrol tonight," Eric knew perfectly well.

"Want to switch to an administrative class?"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The night was as dark as ink, shrouding the West Canyon Police Station in silence, with only the building's outline faintly visible under the sparse streetlights.

The West Canyon Police Station was much quieter at 10:30 p.m. than during the day.

Eric parked his Ford Raptor in a parking space inside the West Canyon Police Department; it was so quiet he could hear his own footsteps.

Eric went around to the inconspicuous back door, swiped his access card to open the heavy metal door, which led to the second-floor office area and the internal affairs department.

At this time, only police officers who need to handle paperwork or special tasks usually come and go from here.

The streetlights were cold and white, and the air was filled with a faint smell of smoke and cleaning agents.

Eric stepped onto the second-floor platform, his steps pausing slightly.

At the end of the corridor, at the entrance to the smoking area, a familiar figure leaned against the door frame. The man was wearing a police superintendent's uniform and was tall; it was Daves.

His brow was furrowed as he stared at a spot on the ground, seemingly not enjoying a moment of leisure, but rather using the nicotine to dispel fatigue and irritability.

Eric's footsteps interrupted his thoughts.

Daves looked up, his gaze piercing the corridor, and met Eric's eyes. There was no surprise on his face; he had expected to run into Eric here.

"Sir, you waited for me here all this time?" Eric asked with a smile.

"Yes." Daves didn't hide anything.

"Let's go."

Eric nodded and followed.

"Kent from the Department of Internal Affairs, and Davis from the Counterterrorism and Special Operations Bureau, have arrived," Daves said in a low voice, tilting his head slightly toward Grey's office.

"Answer whatever they ask, neither too much nor too little."

Daves paused for a moment, then said, "You're experienced; this shouldn't be a problem for you."

“Understood, sir.” Eric appeared much more relaxed than Daves.

Because, as Rafe said at the time, he was a hero.

After all, if those thugs were to actually take those weapons out into the streets, the consequences would be even more serious.

It's already a good result to be able to stop the source before they can act.

Thinking of this, Eric asked curiously, "Sir, what were those people planning to do with so many weapons?"

Daves pursed his lips and revealed the truth: the group was stockpiling weapons in order to rob a cash transport vehicle.

Outrageous!

Eric lowered his eyelids slightly. To make such a big fuss over hijacking a cash transport vehicle, one could only say that this was truly the land of the free.

"Alright." Daves gestured with his chin toward the door to Grey's office, where light was shining through.

"Go, they're waiting for you inside. Remember my words."

After saying that, he did not leave immediately, but stepped aside to make way, his gaze still fixed on Eric, as if he wanted to see him off on his final journey.

Eric nodded without saying anything more and walked towards the lit office. He could feel Daves's gaze following him.

For some reason, Eric sensed a sense of reluctance in that gaze.

"Could it be."

Eric's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively narrowed his eyes slightly. He stopped in front of Inspector Grey's office and knocked on the door.

"Please come in," came Inspector Grey's voice from inside.

Eric pushed open the door, and bright lights instantly flooded out, engulfing his figure.

Daves stood there watching the door close, stood there for a few more seconds, then turned and left.

The door closed gently behind Eric, and a familiar scene appeared before his eyes.
Inspector Grey's office now resembled a makeshift interrogation room; she sat behind her desk, nodding and smiling at him. Judging from this, his case was settled.

His gaze shifted instantly to Davis, the director of the Counterterrorism and Special Operations Bureau, who was sitting in a chair against the wall, looking relaxed and with a hint of curiosity on his face.

But what caught Eric's eye was the man sitting in the single chair directly opposite him, Kent, the head of the Interior Department.

Kent nodded, pointed to the chairs that had been prepared in advance, and smiled, "Officer Stevens, please sit down. You know us, so I won't introduce you further."

Eric nodded, sat down in the designated chair, straightened his back, placed his hands flat on his knees, and calmly met Kent's gaze.

These three big shots stayed up until 10:30 because of him, which is already considered special treatment.

Police Inspector Grey and Davis exchanged a glance.

"You should know why I called you here?" Kent said gently. The young man in front of him was a big star in the Department of Internal Affairs, and almost everyone had heard of him.

Eric replied, "Yes, sir."

Kent gestured to a portable recording device on the table that was flashing a red light and said:

"Since you know, I won't say any more. This questioning will focus on the Topanga incident on the evening of September 19th, and the process will be recorded. Do you understand?"

Eric replied, "Understood, sir."

Kent nodded, his gaze falling on the binder resting on his lap.

"Alright, let's begin. First, please introduce yourself."

He was familiar with this kind of question, and he had been asked this kind of question far too many times.

In front of these three police chiefs, Eric began his impressive narrative speech.

The time, place, people, and logical chain are explained very clearly, without any loopholes.

He spoke at a measured pace, using precise wording that conformed to police report standards.

This surprised Kent, who was used to seeing all sorts of people.

He finally understood why this young man was still unharmed after killing so many people.

Some people's talents may arouse jealousy and resentment, but once that talent is amplified, jealousy will turn into liking and admiration.

He even has the urge to get this young man into the Ministry of Internal Affairs; everyone has the habit of keeping their treasures at home.

After Eric finished answering the last question.

Kent turned to look at Davis, and after confirming that Eric's words matched those of the Counterterrorism and Special Operations Bureau, he closed his binder, looked at Eric, and nodded with a smile.

"Officer Stevens, thank you for your cooperation. This questioning is now concluded, and your statement has been fully recorded."

The Ministry of the Interior will conduct a final assessment based on all evidence. During the assessment period, you will remain on administrative standby; please keep your communication channels open.

“Understood, sir,” Eric replied calmly.

Kent stood up, nodded to Grey and Davis, picked up his binder, and walked out of the office first.

After the door closed again, Grey looked at Eric and smiled:

“Well done, Eric.”

Davis also stood up, patted Eric on the shoulder, and said with a hint of approval, "Impeccable handling. Keep your phone on." Then, his tone suddenly changed:
"I heard from Rafe that you turned down his special offer, but if you can come..."

Grey coughed, and Davis, who hadn't planned to give up, looked at Eric with regret in his eyes.

"It's alright, you can continue." After saying that, he also walked out.

Only Eric and Inspector Grey remained in the office.

Inspector Grey's smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression of appreciation and a touch of wistfulness.

She didn't say anything, but first took two paper cups from the drawer, walked to the water dispenser in the corner, filled two cups with water, and handed one of them to Eric.

“Sit down, relax. This isn’t a formal interrogation.” Grey sat back down in her office chair first, pointing to the chair Eric had just been sitting in.

"I do have something I want to tell you."

Eric took the water glass, thanked him, and sat down again, his posture more relaxed than before. His eyes remained clear and calm as he waited for the other person to continue.

In this atmosphere, it felt like the main story was about to begin. For some reason, Eric recalled Daves's somewhat reluctant gaze.

“Something’s not right,” Eric thought to himself.

"Am I going to be transferred?"

Grey took a small sip of water, her gaze falling on Eric, and slowly spoke, her tone becoming meaningful:

“Eric, Chief Kent rarely comes down to conduct initial inquiries in person, and Superintendent Davis is a powerful figure in the Counterterrorism and Special Operations Bureau, whose schedule is usually measured in minutes.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle, before continuing:

"The fact that they're sitting here so late tonight for your sake speaks volumes."

It's not just the seriousness of the Topanga incident, but also the attention you've garnered as a person that far exceeds the scope of a mere patrol officer.

Eric listened quietly, holding his water glass, without interrupting.

"The Ministry of the Interior's procedures must be completed; this is an ironclad rule that no one can bypass."

But procedures are procedures, and people are people. Those in power have their own standards for judging value. You did a great job; they have a high opinion of you.

Inspector Grey looked at Eric and said, "So some things are actually roughly determined before the process even begins."

For example, an internal recommendation list of exceptionally high-performing individuals is often submitted with the highest priority for approval at such crucial moments, going to the department where their value can be fully realized.

As expected, Eric instinctively pursed his lips. Although Inspector Grey did not explicitly say whether he was on the list or where the location was, she did not say.

But every word points to a definite result.

The internal recommendation list replaced his transfer order, with the highest priority implying the urgency and certainty of the matter, and the place where he could be of value alluding to the police department or a more core special department.

All the natural limitations of the past, such as service years or various restrictions, can no longer hold him back.

Eric sighed inwardly. In just two years of service, at only twenty-five years old, he had risen to a new level, which was indeed impressive in a way.

But even though I'm really leaving and have mentally prepared myself for it, I still feel a bit conflicted.

Because it meant he was leaving the familiar West Canyon Police Department, the familiar people, the familiar office clerk, and so on, to go to a new place.

Seeing Eric's unpredictable changes in expression, Grey's tone became even more subtle. "I heard..."

“A newly formed squadron is short of manpower and is urgently looking for a gem like you.”

Their captain has very high standards; he's already decided on someone.

At this point, Inspector Grey leaned back in her chair and said in a slightly more relaxed tone:
"Eric, so what are your thoughts? I heard from Daves that you prefer the detective department? Of course, if you have any other ideas, the department will respect your wishes."

These words were no longer a hint, but a direct statement. Eric took a deep breath and said:

"Sir, I will obey the police station's arrangements."

Inspector Grey smiled, showing no surprise: "Understood. What you need to do now is to maintain absolute patience and a low profile during the administrative standby period."

Avoid any unnecessary trouble and make sure your phone is reachable.

The Ministry of the Interior's final conclusion is merely a necessary procedural hurdle; it will not change the established direction.

The important thing is that after the results come out, the new organization can immediately find you in perfect condition, without any subsequent trouble.

(End of this chapter)