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

Chapter 291 Revealing the Truth (Part 2)

Click!

The door was opened and then closed again.

Eric stopped in the hallway outside the door and remained silent for a moment.

Inspector Grey's words were quite clear: after his one-month administrative leave, he would be taking up his new post as a new trainee detective.

Water flows to lower place, man goes to higher position.

There is no never-ending feast.

These two sentences flowed calmly through his mind. Eric pursed his lips, turned around, and left the doorway.

Essentially, this place is more like a beginner's village, a place for him to initially adapt to his identity and the rules of the world.

But it's not like they're without feelings.

"In that case, let's say goodbye." Eric didn't head towards the stairwell, but turned in another direction.

The office area of ​​the patrol police department.

As it approached 11 p.m., the corridor was even emptier than before. Most of the offices had their lights off and doors locked, with only a few night shift clerks still at their posts.

Eric's gaze swept over the familiar surroundings, such as the police briefing room and his own location, before he silently turned to the coffee shop next door.

He skillfully took two cups of coffee, one black coffee for himself and the other with double the sugar and creamer. He remembered that this was Daves's standard fare when he stayed up all night dealing with messes.

Then, carrying two steaming cups of coffee, he walked to Daves's office door. The door was closed, but light was still shining through the crack.

Boom, boom, boom.

There was a moment of silence inside, then Daves's slightly tired and irritated voice came through: "Who is it? What is it?"

“Sir, it’s me.” Eric’s voice was steady.

There was a few seconds of silence inside, as if someone was surprised, followed by the sound of a chair being moved. "Come in."

Eric pushed open the door.

Daves was still sitting behind his desk, the pile of documents in front of him still there, the lamplight illuminating his rather tired face.

Indeed, with such a large-scale operation yesterday, it's no surprise that the commander of the West Canyon Police Department's patrol unit was very busy.

Eric raised his coffee cup and smiled.

"I've already added sugar and milk for you."

Daves was visibly taken aback when he saw the two cups of coffee in Eric's hand, and his tone became even gentler.

"Is the interrogation over?"

"Yeah, just finished." Eric walked over, placed the cup of coffee with sugar and milk in front of Daves, took the cup of black coffee for himself, and sat down in the chair in front of the desk.

"How's it going? How long are you taking this break?" Daves picked up his coffee and took a sip. The temperature and sweetness were just right, which eased his tired expression.

“One month,” Eric replied simply.

Daves spoke his mind: "It's been a bit too long."

Eric chuckled, "Perhaps this time, due to some special circumstances, we went through the normal procedure."

Daves fell silent.

Eric didn't say anything either.

There was a moment of tacit silence between the two, broken only by the soft sound of Daves sipping his coffee.

“Sir,” Eric spoke again, looking calmly at Daves, “thank you.”

Daves lifted his eyelids to look at him, instinctively trying to show impatience: "What are you thanking me for? I didn't help at all, I was just following the rules."

Eric shook his head slightly: "I wasn't referring to the inquiry just now, but to thank you for taking care of me during this time in West Canyon."

At this point, Eric smiled and said, "I know I've caused a lot of trouble, and I'm sorry to have troubled you."

It has to be said that Daves has been quite good to him over the past two years.

Daves paused, holding his coffee cup. He looked at Eric, at this young man who made his blood pressure rise and repeatedly shocked him, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

He opened his mouth, wanting to habitually curse, "You troublemaker," but the words turned into a sigh tinged with relief.

"Good to know," Daves said sullenly, taking another big gulp of coffee, as if he needed the sweet calories to suppress certain emotions in his heart.

"You're a troublemaker wherever you go."

This complaint no longer contains genuine anger; instead, it feels more like a farewell.

Eric understood, and a faint smile appeared on his face: "I'll try not to cause you any trouble in the future."

Daves snorted, put down his coffee cup, and looked out at the dark night: "Alright, enough of this nonsense. Inspector Grey should have already informed you about your internal recommendation, right?"

He didn't explicitly say where he was going, but they both knew exactly where he was going.

Eric nodded: "Yeah."

"The detective agency is perfect for someone with too much energy like you," Daves said, his tone ambiguous between teasing and remarking.

"It's better than staying with the patrol team and living in constant fear."

He turned to look at Eric again, his gaze becoming more serious, carrying with him the last bit of advice he had as Eric's direct superior: "There will be more rules and more eyes watching you over there."

Don't go as far as you did here. Tone it down, but don't lose your skills either.

What does that mean? Eric said helplessly, "I'll remember that, sir."

There was another brief silence; it seemed that everything that needed to be said had been said.

If he stayed any longer, he would seem indecisive, so Eric decisively stood up and said, "Sir, I'll be going now."

Daves looked at Eric, nodded, his lips moved, but he ultimately just waved his hand, his tone returning to its usual impatient tone, yet unable to conceal a hint of barely perceptible loneliness:

"Go away, go away, just looking at you annoys me. Remember, until the final conclusion is reached, you're still mine, so don't cause me any more trouble!"

“Okay.” Eric smiled and nodded again, giving his stubborn but soft-hearted direct supervisor one last look before turning and leaving the office, gently closing the door behind him.

Inside the room, Daves sat alone in the glow of the lamp, staring at the half-finished, sweet cup of coffee on the table, motionless for a long time.

Finally, he sighed again, this time with even more complex emotions.

Daves picked up his coffee and drank it all in one gulp, officially bidding farewell to a period that had given him a headache but which he was also inexplicably reluctant to end.

-

a few days later.

A church in a quiet neighborhood in Los Angeles County.

There was no Mass being held here, yet a larger crowd gathered than during Sunday worship services.

A solemn and dignified atmosphere enveloped the entire space.

On the bench, dark police uniforms dominated the scene. From senior officers with elaborate epaulets to junior officers in crisp uniforms, everyone looked solemn and stood up straight.

The air was filled with the faint scent of flowers, the slightly burnt smell of candles, and a silent, heavy sadness.

This is a memorial service held by the Los Angeles Police Department for the SWAT team members who died in the Topanga incident. Before the altar are the fallen officers' caps, medals, and neatly folded uniforms.

Among the crowd of people in dark uniforms, one set of standard Los Angeles police uniforms stood out.

Eric sat in the middle row by the aisle. His patrol uniform, complete with a tie, was impeccably pressed, but it stood out slightly among the many suits and uniforms of the surrounding officers and the few formal uniforms of the SWAT team members.

The ceremony proceeded solemnly, with the pastor leading the prayers and the police band playing mournful melodies.

Chief Superintendent Eswin delivered a speech, his voice solemn and powerful, praising the bravery of the fallen, promising that the police force would always be a support for the bereaved families, and vowing to uphold law and order.

In the family quarters, low sobs could hardly be suppressed.

Eric remained calm, his gaze fixed straight ahead, maintaining the same quiet and detached respect as the rest of the group.

But upon hearing these sounds, Eric couldn't help but sigh.

Generally, these kinds of memorial services are mostly attended by upper-level leaders in the police department, while those attended by lower-ranking officers are mostly small memorial services organized internally by various police departments.

Moreover, he prefers to avoid such sad occasions, just like in his previous life, when he would never watch movies or TV shows with a bad ending.

As a result, he, an ordinary patrolman who was on administrative leave, was still invited, and it was a special invitation from his family, which he really couldn't refuse.

So he had no choice but to come, which made his police uniform seem somewhat out of place here.

Eric would have liked to wear a suit if he could, but looking at the police uniforms present, he thought better of it.

Just as Eric was lost in thought, letting it go in one ear and out the other, he finally saw Rafe go up when Chief Inspector Eswin stepped down.

Rafe was dressed smartly in his uniform, but the fatigue on his face and the bloodshot eyes could not be concealed. His voice was hoarse from suppressing his emotions, and it trembled genuinely.

Eric listened silently, but suddenly he felt Rafe's gaze linger on him for a brief moment, and he immediately had a bad feeling.

This guy won't want it.
"Finally, I would like to say that a colleague who participated in the operation that night and played a key role took the initiative and insisted on donating all of his deserved reward anonymously to the families of the brothers we are mourning today, before the reward was distributed, and the money was directly deposited into their condolence fund."

Rafe's voice trembled slightly: "We respect his wish to remain anonymous, but I feel it's still important for people to know that such a person exists."

A slight commotion instantly arose in the audience.

Without mentioning anyone else, all the big shots sitting in front of the stage turned around and looked over, finally fixing their gaze on him and nodding slightly.

More subtle gazes seemed to briefly fall on his slightly different, out-of-place patrol uniform, those gazes carrying a sense of inquiry and speculation.

Even the widows and parents of the victims in the family quarters burst into tears and looked in his direction.

Eric immediately became restless, and the knuckles of his hand on his knees tightened slightly.

There are always some people who are allergic to praise and compliments, and Eric is one of them. He believes in having clear thoughts and doesn't need the gratitude or approval of others, so he's really feeling a bit numb now.

Fortunately, Rafe didn't say anything more. After he finished speaking, he stepped down from the stage, and everyone looked away, which relieved Eric.

The memorial service ended in a mix of grief and warmth.

People began to leave slowly, the atmosphere still heavy and stagnant.

As Eric silently followed the crowd toward the exit, an elderly woman with white hair, supported by her family, passed by him. She looked at him with teary eyes, as if trying to discern something from his calm face, but ultimately only nodded slightly.
"Thank you."

Eric shook his head slightly without saying a word, then quickened his pace and walked out of the church door first.

The bright sunshine outside contrasted sharply with the somber atmosphere inside the church.

Eric took a deep breath and then exhaled, as if trying to dispel the heaviness in his chest; such occasions could indeed make one feel heavy-hearted.

Everything else is fine, but the main problem is the crying of the family members...

Eric glanced back at the church, then walked straight to his car without stopping.

The moment my hand touched the car door, a calm yet slightly hoarse voice came from behind me:

"Officer Stevens?"

Eric turned around and saw a man in a dark police uniform, which indicated that he held a high-ranking position.

But this person was someone he had met several times.

“A detective?” Eric asked.

Costa nodded and took a few steps forward: "Memorial services are always a somber affair."

Without waiting for Eric's response, he continued to look at Eric, his eyes filled with admiration, and said:

"What Rafe said inside just now was done well. Although he didn't mention his name or surname, this kind of news spreads very quickly in the system."

Eric's lips twitched; what else could he say?

"So what are you doing?"

Costa said casually, "I just happened to run into you here, so I wanted to give you a heads-up beforehand, so you're not in a rush to call the higher-ups."

He gestured with his chin towards the police headquarters, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"The matter of you being transferred to my office is basically settled; all that's left is to go through the formalities."

"Wow, you're really direct," Eric said, taken aback.

This statement directly indicates that in the near future, the person in front of him will be his boss, in the same position as Daves.

However, it's good to know in advance who you'll be working for. This person seems to be a pragmatic one, and in the police department, pragmatism means flexibility.

Eric said, "Thank you for letting me know, Detective, but wouldn't this be..."

Costa waved his hand, glanced at him, and his gaze lingered on the man's crisp police uniform for half a second:
"It's okay, you'll find out eventually anyway. I just wanted to let you know that after your leave, you should report directly to Detective Squad 4 of the Park Center Police Department. Someone will help you with the paperwork and get your new badge and equipment."

Eric nodded: "OK!"

Costa continued, "Being a detective and patrolling the streets are two different things. Cases are much more complicated and can be so complex that they give you a headache. This month is actually a buffer period for you to adjust your pace."

“I’ll be ready, Detective,” Eric replied.

“You should call me Captain,” Costa said with a smile.

Eric shrugged and said, "Captain!"

Costa's smile widened, feeling incredibly pleased. This kid was just to his liking, especially knowing that he had given all the tangible rewards to his family.

Moreover, he put in a lot of effort to recruit this talent to his squadron.

Of course, this was also thanks to his previous success in solving the serial murder case, which allowed him to rightfully snatch the kid away from Chief Anthony.

"Okay, that's it."

Costa nodded, a fleeting sense of relief crossing his face as if he had accomplished his mission, and casually waved to Eric.

"See you in a month. Welcome to the heart of the real mess, Eric."

After saying that, Costa said no more, turned around and walked to his car, opened the door and got in smoothly. He quickly started the engine and drove away from the parking lot.

"A month later, will it be a mess center?"

Eric stood there, watching Costa's taillights disappear around the next street corner, shook his head, turned around, got into his car, and drove away.

Whether it's a mess for him or not is another matter; the most likely scenario is that it's a baby center.

(End of this chapter)