Because of course, I arrived one hour early.
It’s not for lack of trying, honestly. I stopped to buy a—stupidly large—coffee in a Starbucks, some silly stuff at the mall—three scented candles, a few photo frames, a couple of pillows for the couch—and a damn bathing suit.
Speaking of which, what is the problem with bathing suits in this city? Why for a hundred different options, only one is a one piece, and about 80% of the rest are barely covering anything? Not to mention the weird ones that have more strings than actual material on them.
Anyway, I managed to find a simple black bikini that has enough coverage for me not to worry about flashing anyone. It still has stupid strings on the side to tie the bottom front and back together and shows most of my ass, but that was the best option I had.
I can hear the rain starting to pour outside. From what I’ve heard about the weather here, it’s probably going to be a downpour, but only lasts for about ten to thirty minutes. It should be over when I’m done with the interview.
I jump out of the car when the time shows 9:55p.m, and head straight to the front desk where a kind-looking young woman gives me a visitor pass and leads me to the Chief of Police’s office. I sit on one of the chairs facing her door.
Chief Kosby does not make me wait for long. She steps out of her office after barely a minute and she gives me a reassuring smile.
I knew from our phone calls that she had a kind but authoritative voice. But I was not expecting her to be a 5ft nothing, blond, forty years old woman.
“Miss Willow, thank you for meeting me. Please, come in.”
I stand up and join her inside. She closes the door behind me and takes her place behind her desk. I sit on one of the two chairs facing her.
Her office is minimalist. Other than her computer, nothing clutters her desk. The walls are painted gray and the floor tiling is the same dark as the rest of the building. In the previous precincts I worked in, the walls and doors were mostly glass, overlooking the open space where detectives were working. Not here. Doesn’t she feel the need to look and check on her employees even from her own desk? Maybe she is the kind of chief who either fully trustseveryone to do their job correctly or she simply doesn’t spend much time in her office, preferring to check on them directly. Or maybe she…
No storytelling.
Right. Fuck.
“My colleagues in Chicago and Atlanta had so many nice things to say about you,” she says, leaning back in her chair.
“I really enjoyed working with them too,” I answer with a smile.
“So, you mentioned that you moved here with your brother. Do you plan on staying for a while?”
Me moving a lot is always a concern every time I’m looking for jobs. I clear my throat. “My brother seems set on staying here for a long time. He mentioned buying a house, so I guess we might be here to stay.”
“Oh, that’s great.” She smiles, leaning forwards to fumble with some paperwork. “I didn’t ask on our phone conversations, but why did you not work with the police in Seattle instead of working in a bar?”
“I… The police precinct was in Seattle but we were living in Indianola. I needed to be in a less than thirty minutes driving distance from him in case of… Well, emergencies. With the ferry, it was…”
“Oh. Yes, I understand. You said on the phone that your brother had hired personal care workers here?”
“He did, yes.”
“That must be a relief for you.”
Barely getting used to the idea. “I guess, yes. You don’t need to worry about me leaving for too many emergencies, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
She stares at me for a couple of seconds, without saying anything. Then she smiles, and hands me the little stack of paper she’s holding in her hand.
“We’re really happy to welcome you to our team, Miss Willow. Let’s go over the freelancer contract together, and then I’ll go and introduce you to our detectives and officers.”
It’s basically the same contract that I’ve had before. They can call me up to six times a week for a total of forty two hours max. As a freelancer, the focus of my work will be on composite drawings but I can be called for a crime scene reconstruction if they don’t have anyone else available.
Chief Kosby—she told me to call her Jane—seems like a really nice lady but she’s also kind of terrifying. I guess you have to be when you’re a woman Chief of Police.
She leads me towards what looks like a little conference room and we are greeted by a dozen people sitting and talking to each other.
They all go quiet when we enter and I can feel their gazes on me, even though I try my best not to look at any of them too intently. The last thing I need is for my brain to start storytelling about my future co-workers.
“Good morning Detectives. I just want to take a minute to introduce you to Miss Prudence Willow. She’s our latest freelance Sketch artist.” She pauses and looks around the room for a couple of seconds, probably to look at each detective facing us. “She’s worked with the Chicago and Atlanta Police departments and is now joining us with strong references. She’ll do mostly composite drawings, and I’ll put her contact on the freelancer board.”
