New assignment

Rising from his bed after his first shift, Stone stumbled into the living area and opened the curtains. Staring out through his condo window at the glitzy lights of the LA city skyline, Stone wallowed in self-pity. His life had stagnated in every area it seemed. His love life was nonexistent. Even worse, his new assignment was forced upon him and exposed him as the dumbass he had been. He realized that he'd been born thirty years too late. Otherwise, he imagined that he'd have received a commendation and not a slap on the wrist, and a change of outfit. Thirty years ago, and he believed his face would have been plastered on the front of the LA Times, hailed as a hero for solving his last case. The only consolation, he thought, was that his actions hadn't impacted on his family, because there was none. He only had himself to please, and his own morality, and not some jerk attorney's idea of the rights of criminals.

At that moment, he felt as though the scales of justice were tipped in favor of the felons and murderers. In his mind, the lady holding the scales no longer carried the idea of objectivity, without fear or favor. The blindfold wrapped around her eyes now signified indifference, and her turning a blind eye to the gross injustice going on in the streets and in her courtrooms.

The muffled trill of his landline snapped him out of his train of thought. Stone sighed, picking up the handset hidden under the lid of a pizza box.

"Stone."

"Dispatch here. The sergeant wants you in an hour early."

He wondered if it was something about last night's fiasco that he'd overlooked.

"Did he say why?"

"It must be something big going down. I'm contacting some of the day shift to be at the meeting. Some sort of joint op with FBI and the gang team over in Southside."

Stone flopped on the sofa, relieved it wasn't going to be a disciplinary meeting.

"I'll be there."

The call closed. All of a sudden, the doom and gloom swept away, replaced by anticipation. He looked at his watch. Three hours and he'd find out what was happening. Now he had something to look forward to.

Stone took a seat on the sofa, fired up his laptop, and glanced over the report he had compiled outlining the racist comments he'd heard. He picked up his cell phone. The woman from the incident the night before wasn't answering her phone, and she hadn't returned his calls. He punched in her number and pressed the call symbol. Same as before, it went to message service. This time, he decided to leave a message.

"Hi, Candice. This is Highway Patrolman Stone. I have your purse. If you could call me back on this number, we can arrange to get it back to you."

After hanging up, he wondered if he should have used Miss. Jacobs to address her. Maybe using her first name would have sounded too familiar, like he wanted something in return, just as she'd said. He wasn't sure how he was going to get around her prejudice of his uniform to get to know her and to gain her confidence. The purse was an ideal excuse. He knew if he could get to talk with her that he might be able to convince her to make a statement about what Granger had said. That way he could add her witness account to his report. Acutely aware that he shouldn't ask a witness out on a date, he couldn't get away from the fact of him not been able to get her picture out of his head to the point of obsessing about her ever since he'd set eyes on her. Stone took a photocopy of her license and put the copy in his drawer. His phone rang again. He snatched up the handset.

"Stone."

"It's Kyle."

He rolled his eyes. Stone thought that Reagan had balls for calling, considering it was his report that had handed him the undercover gig.

"What do you want? Cause if it's to gloat, forget it."

"No, I was talking to the wife, and we were wondering how your first shift went?"

He wasn't buying the concern. He imagined Kyle's wife, Nancy, had cajoled him into the phone call.

"Not that it's any of your business, but it was fine."

"Look, I'm sorry about what's happened. When I wrote out my report, I didn't think they'd realize that you had continued investigating while on admin leave. I owe you."

"Yeah, well. Like I told Logan, you made the arrest, not me," he said. "Anyways, shit happens."

"Whatever, good luck."

Stone listened to the dial tone when the call cut at Kyle's end. He didn't believe Reagan was sorry for one minute, just trying to save face for if their paths crossed again. So much for the idea that they'd put their feud behind them. Reagan's report had made him realize just how sneaky he could be and that he still bore a jealous grudge. Saying he owed him one didn't cut any ice. He doubted he'd ever stoop so low as to ask for his help again. Stone crashed the handset on the cradle.

"Bastard."

He was beginning to think he'd swapped one dick for another, when he recalled Granger playing his games the night before, and the fiasco in the briefing room. He had learned a valuable lesson with Reagan. He would need a word with Granger, so he could put a stop to any rivalry before the situation could get out of control. Thinking that, he wondered if it may be better putting his foot down with a firm hand and to give him a slap. In a way, Reagan had done him a favor, and put his mind at rest as to what to say as to why he'd resigned to go back on traffic duties.