I grab my purse off my desk and shove it into my desk drawer aggressively, slamming it shut. Anger fuels my bad attitude as I storm down the hall and past Mike, who is dragging Amanda into a conference room. I hesitate before knocking on Rob’s office door, my heart racing in anticipation of his verbal lashing. I knock twice.
“Come in.” My hand shakes as I twist the doorknob and push open the large office door. “Lindsay.” He looks at me, perplexed. “I still don’t have your story.”
“I know. It’s gone.”
His brows furrow as he spins back and forth in his high-back office chair. “What do you mean ‘it’s gone’?”
“I finished the package and saved it. I thought I had uploaded it to the server, but I was distracted and left for lunch. I’m almost positive I didn’t lock my computer when I left and now it’s gone.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying it was there when I left for lunch. Now it’s not.”
“So you’re saying you think someone deleted it?”
I pause for a moment and clear my throat. “I believe someone did delete it, along with all the raw footage—the SIM card is also missing.”
He sighs loudly. “Why would anybody do that, Lindsay?”
“I’m honestly not sure why. I just know that I put together an amazing package. It was on my computer, the SIM card was there, I went to lunch, and now it’s gone—all of it is gone and the SIM card is missing.” My palms are sweating and I can feel my cheeks flush. “Rob, I swear the package was done and I know this sounds like it’s just a bunch of bullshit excuses, but you can ask Mike. He sat there and watched it with me. He said it was some of my best work yet.”
A sarcastic laugh escapes Rob’s lips and his hands are steepled in front of him—watching me intently, pondering his next move.
“So we don’t have your story for the five o’clock. What do you suggest we do to make up for that?” His tone is flat, annoyed.
“I’ll work with…” I look away from him, trying to remember the assignment manager’s name.
“Jan?” he says sharply.
“She’s the assignment manager, right?” He nods his head quickly. “I’ll work with Jan to find a relevant wire story.” I stand quietly, waiting for confirmation that this is what I should do.
“Lindsay, this isn’t Wilmington anymore. This is the big leagues. If you can’t handle the pressure, I need to know now rather than later.”#p#分页标题#e#
“I’m fine. I’ve got this,” I say quietly, leaving his office.
“Prove it, Lindsay,” he barks as I shut his office door behind me. I walk quickly back to my cube, not wanting to talk to or see anyone. I settle into my chair and bury my face in my hands. My entire body shakes with anger as I feel tears stinging at the backs of my eyes.
“Lindsay, it’s been handled.” Mike’s voice is calm, comforting.
“Not now,” I snap at him and jump up from my chair. “I have to find Jan.” I push past him, but not before he catches my arm, abruptly stopping me.
“It’s going to be fine. Take a deep breath, get it together, and find Jan.” I sigh and reach out to hug him.
“Thanks, Mike.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. Now go. Go find Jan.”
Since Landon took a detective position last year, I’ve patrolled alone. At times, I’ve missed the partnership of having someone ride patrol with me, but no one could replace Landon. I’ve trained a few of the new recruits, but when the department asked if I wanted another partner, I declined. My beat is usually pretty quiet and, thus, here I am—alone. In so many ways that single word, alone, defines everything about me right now.
The days both at work and home have been long and slow, but I actually find solace in work. It’s a pleasant distraction—an escape. I’ve picked up some off-duty work as well as some additional shifts to help cover vacations. Today, I’m working the day shift, from seven in the morning to three thirty in the afternoon, which is a change for me. The day shifts are usually slower, less going on. I pull into the small strip mall that houses one of the best sandwich shops in Wilmington and take myself out of duty. Landon pulls into the spot next to me at the same time and nods in acknowledgement.
“What’s up, buddy?” he asks as we greet each other with a fist bump. “Glad you could join me for lunch. It’s been a while.”
“Thanks for asking. Just been trying to stay out of trouble,” I joke.
We step into the air-conditioned sandwich shop and take a seat in one of the booths tucked away in the far corner. Being cops, both of us have a sense of paranoia about sitting in front of glass windows—call it a quirk of ours, but we both understand each other. In a glass window, you’re an open target for anyone that has a beef with the police.