{"id":405,"date":"2024-06-26T22:19:52","date_gmt":"2024-06-26T22:19:52","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/demolinks2.com\/david-ramacitti\/?page_id=405"},"modified":"2024-07-16T21:31:35","modified_gmt":"2024-07-16T21:31:35","slug":"losses-3","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/demolinks2.com\/david-ramacitti\/losses-3\/","title":{"rendered":"Losses"},"content":{"rendered":"

[vc_section el_id=”booki-blo” woodmart_css_id=”666ce08fbeca7″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZTA4ZmJlY2E3Iiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfc2VjdGlvbiIsImRhdGEiOnsidGFibGV0Ijp7fSwibW9iaWxlIjp7fX19″ mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″][vc_row][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Sample chapters from Losses,
\nBook Three in the Ro Delahanty Series” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:40|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719440227409{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter One” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718411206520{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”I killed Daisy!” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719440244946{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column]\t\t\t \t\t\t\t\t

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Wednesday, March 9, 2005, early morning<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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A<\/strong>rmstrong One-Nine.\u201d Ro Delahanty grinned to herself. The deputies were still adjusting to their new male dispatcher. His name was Rex Haskell, a retired city cop who\u2019d become bored with having nothing to do. Over her own two years at the dispatch desk, and now nearly two years as a patrol deputy, all the sheriff\u2019s department\u2019s dispatchers had been female.
\n\u201cOne-Nine,\u201d Ro acknowledged.
\n\u201cOne-Nine, I think this is a 10-78\u201d \u2212 citizen needs assistance \u2212 \u201cbut it\u2019s confusing,\u201d Haskell said.
\nMaybe as a reaction to having heard literally thousands of dispassionate dispatchers\u2019 calls himself through the years, Haskell\u2019s over-the-air personality was more conversational than usual.
\n\u201cI received a 911 call from what I think might be an elderly lady; sounded pretty desperate,\u201d he continued. \u201cKeeps saying, \u2018I killed Daisy!\u2019 When I ask who Daisy is, she repeats \u2018I think I killed her\u2019 and starts sobbing.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s her 10-20?\u201d \u2212 location.
\n\u201cTwo Mile Road where it crosses Shadowbrook Creek\u2019s south branch.\u201d
\nShadowbrook was a long east-west creek in the southern part of the county. Ro was on Hickory Lane, at the north end; the 10-78 was close to fifteen miles away.
\n\u201c10-04 Fort Armstrong. I am 10-76,\u201d \u2212 en route \u2212 \u201c10-77 fifteen\u201d \u2212 estimated time of arrival fifteen minutes. \u201cWhat\u2019s your take, Dispatch, is caller potentially homicidal, suicidal?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t get that feeling, One-Nine. It\u2019s more like highly distressed over something that\u2019s already happened.\u201d
\n\u201cCopy that. Is she still on the line? Inform her I\u2019m on the way.\u201d
\n\u201c10-04 One-Nine. I\u2019ll instruct her to remain at her location until you arrive.\u201d
\n\u201cCopy that.\u201d Taking her finger off the transmit button, Ro blew out a quick breath and muttered to herself, \u201cOkay, Mr. Pete,\u201d addressing the patrol car, \u201clet\u2019s go see what this is all about.\u201d
\nNinety-nine-point-nine percent of police work is routine, but…
\nDeputy Sheriff Ro Delahanty had already been involved in two shootouts \u2212 just lucky, or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. The first a gunfight with four assault rifle-carrying thugs, the other a year ago on a domestic disturbance incident in which a supposedly average young woman who had caught her boyfriend cheating on her morphed into a stone-cold killer.
\nBut \u201cDaisy\u201d and \u201cI think I killed…\u201d Ro\u2019s instincts were saying this wasn\u2019t another crazed shooter.
\nFortunately, most of her route to the scene was over County Line Road, a major four-lane highway straddling Fort Armstrong County\u2019s western border with adjacent Makuakeeta County. On regular patrols Ro stayed ten miles under the posted speed limit, but this time used her red and blue light bar. She skipped the siren, though, as there was only light traffic, and she was not in a hot pursuit requiring high speeds.
\nTwelve minutes later, turning south onto Two Mile Road, she saw the headlights of a sedan over on the east shoulder a half-mile ahead, except one light was pointing off into a nearby field at an odd angle. Two Mile Road ran through flat cropland awaiting spring plowing, with an occasional tree line to break-up the view.
\nBringing the squad car to a stop on the west shoulder across from an early 2000s Buick, Ro saw two things. A small elderly woman in the car\u2019s driver\u2019s seat staring at her with a dazed expression. Twenty yards behind the Buick, a brown hump crumpled on the edge of the pavement: a deer. Ro couldn\u2019t help closing her eyes as a surge of pity swept over her. The deer\u2019s head was jerking; it wasn\u2019t dead.
\nBut the elderly lady took precedence.
\nStriding across the road to the disabled Buick, she leaned over and looked in.
\nThe woman seemed bewildered. \u201cYou\u2019re a lady.\u201d
\nBy now, Ro was used to the look.
\n\u201cYes ma\u2019am, I am Deputy Sheriff Delahanty. I\u2019m here to help. Are you alright? Are you injured in any way?\u201d
\nThe woman blinked and glanced back behind her, sobbing. \u201cI think I killed Daisy. I killed her!\u201d
\n\u201cMa\u2019am, you need to focus on me,\u201d Ro said gently but with some authority. \u201cAre you hurt in any way? Did you hit your head?\u201d
\nThe wrinkled, perhaps eightyish woman stared at Ro for a few seconds, processing the question. \u201cNo, I\u2019m not hurt.\u201d
\nShe was tiny in the front seat of the big Buick, barely making five feet, and was wrapped in a cloth coat, huddled against the cold.
\n\u201cIs Daisy a person or is it the deer you hit back there?\u201d
\nThe woman again glanced back, the guilt in her eyes palpable. \u201cI killed her, didn\u2019t I?\u201d
\n\u201cNo. It looks like the deer is injured but not dead.\u201d
\n\u201cOh God, can you call a vet? Maybe you can save her.\u201d
\nRo had her doubts but tried to comfort the woman. \u201cMa\u2019am, you\u2019re cold. I\u2019m going to move you to my car, where it\u2019s warm. Then I\u2019ll check on the deer. Come with me.\u201d
\nAfter helping the woman into the passenger seat of her patrol car, Ro started down the shallow slope leading to a bridge over the creek. Unfortunately, her doubts were correct. Within a few feet she could hear the deer\u2019s piteous mewling, like an injured child\u2019s whimper. It was throwing its head around and frantically trying to use its front legs to get up, except the back legs wouldn\u2019t move. It had two short antlers.
\nRo closed her eyes and sighed, knowing what needed to be done.
\nReturning to her patrol car, Ro slid into the driver\u2019s side and put her hand on the woman\u2019s arm, hoping to reassure her, \u201cI don\u2019t think that\u2019s your Daisy. It\u2019s a yearling buck; I saw its antlers. But it looks like its back is broken. We can\u2019t save him, ma\u2019am.\u201d
\nRo had so far either responded to or come across at least a half-a-dozen 10-45 calls \u2212 animal carcass \u2212 but this was the first time one was still alive.
\nThe woman dropped her head, ashamed. \u201cI\u2019m so sorry; he came out of nowhere.\u201d
\n\u201cI understand. I need to go put him out of his misery. Do you understand?\u201d
\nThe woman bobbed her head twice. \u201cYes.\u201d
\nRo retrieved her Glock 34 nine-millimeter back-up weapon from the duty bag in the car\u2019s trunk, as the big departmental issue Sig Sauer .357 on her left hip was too much weapon for this job.
\nStriding down the road, Ro tried to slip into warrior mode; a place you seek as a cop where the folks with guns cease to be ordinary people with everyday problems and simply become Shooters \u2212 and yes, she did always think of it as capitalized. Except it wasn\u2019t working this time. Bad guys shooting at you are easy to face; this was hard. This was a blameless forest critter with the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and was now hurting.
\nRo dropped to one knee behind the deer and nearly lost it. Its bleating was so utterly pitiful, its pawing at the ground so desperate and futile.
\n\u201cDear God,\u201d she muttered, closing her eyes to fight back a tear.
\nGlancing around to make sure her bullet wouldn\u2019t potentially hit a house \u2212 there was a thick screen of trees on the opposite side of a shallow ditch beside the road \u2013 and not pausing for fear she would lose her nerve, Ro cocked the Glock, put the muzzle against the base of the deer\u2019s skull and pulled the trigger.
\nCRACK!
\nA small flock of birds noisily erupted from the tree line, frightened by the gunshot.
\nThe deer jerked once and then lay still, the one large brown eye Ro could see open but lifeless.
\nHer patrol car\u2019s headlights cast enough glow she could see the new spray of shiny dark liquid spread across the grass beyond the dead deer\u2019s forehead where her bullet had exited; there was the sharp odor of burnt hair. Ro put her hand on the deer\u2019s now still shoulder, blew out a regretful sigh and whispered, \u201cBe at peace.\u201d
\nHolding the Glock down at her side, she returned to the squad, put the weapon back in the duty bag, and climbed into the front seat.
\n\u201cMa\u2019am, I need to call this in. Then you can tell me what happened.\u201d
\n\u201cHe\u2019s not suffering anymore, is he?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, he\u2019s not.\u201d And you didn\u2019t lose your Daisy, Ro thought.
\n\u201cI\u2019m glad.\u201d<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter Two” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718412474420{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”Get Rid of the Frown” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719440295053{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”]\t\t

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Wednesday, March 9, 2005, early morning<\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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R<\/strong>o called in, updating dispatch as on scene and the situation being under control, but needing a tow for a disabled vehicle, and that she\u2019d had to put down the injured deer. Turning to her passenger, who now seemed to have calmed down, as well as warmed up, Ro took a pen and small spiral notebook from an inside pocket of her jacket, explaining, \u201cWhenever I discharge a weapon \u2212 fire my gun \u2212 I have to submit a written report, so I need to ask you some questions. What\u2019s your name, ma\u2019am?\u201d
\nThe woman\u2019s eyes crinkled into a small smile. \u201cNarcissus… Narcissus Pinchon. It\u2019s a flower.\u201d
\n\u201cLike a daffodil, right?\u201d
\n\u201cYes. Very good, not many people know that.\u201d
\n\u201cMy father planted some near our front porch,\u201d Ro said. \u201cDo you live near here, Mrs. Pinchon?\u201d
\n\u201cSissy,\u201d the woman said, flashing Ro a friendly grin taking ten years off her age. \u201cEveryone calls me Sissy.\u201d
\n\u201cOkay. Sissy it is.\u201d
\nStaring at the now still deer, Sissy asked, \u201cWhat\u2019ll happen to him?\u201d
\nRo considered a vague non-answer like, \u201cWe\u2019ll dispose of it,\u201d but was never comfortable with that sort of white lie.
\n\u201cAnytime we have a dead deer \u2212 you\u2019d be surprised at how many there are, by the way \u2212 our dispatcher calls the zoo folks over in Illinois and they send someone to pick up the carcass to feed the big cats.\u201d
\nExpecting a response of disgust, like, \u201cYew, you feed him to the lions,\u201d it surprised Ro when Sissy stared at the dead animal for a second and instead said, \u201cMakes sense; completes the circle. And it\u2019s sure better than leaving it for the crows and coyotes.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, it is,\u201d Ro agreed.
\nThen throwing Ro a real curve ball, Sissy turned and asked, \u201cDo you believe the deer had a soul and went to heaven? You know, some people only think human beings can have souls.\u201d
\nRo had to smile as they had reversed roles in this interview process. I\u2019m the cop, I\u2019m the one who\u2019s supposed to ask the questions here.
\nThis time, though, she opted for a simple if somewhat ambiguous answer, \u201cYes, I do.\u201d Except Ro suspected the meaning she assigned to those words may not necessarily be the same as Sissy\u2019s.
\nNeither Ro nor her family were religious in the sense they attended a church. But she was spiritual, believing all living things \u2212 like the deer \u2212 shared in a common life essence and when the body died the life essence continued, to then become part of some other living thing; that was her understanding of \u201csoul\u201d and \u201cheaven.\u201d
\nWhile Ro had begun forming this idea in her teens, it had really come into focus when she\u2019d touched Neesh-Na-Ha-A-La for the first time. That was the name local Native Americans had for a giant white oak tree believed to be several hundred years old standing in Five Falls State Park in the southwest corner of the county.
\nRo loved to run on the park\u2019s hiking and equestrian trails, usually two or three times a week. Her trips to the park always included a visit to Neesh-Na-Ha-A-La, which lazy Whites over the years had shrunk into an easier to pronounce \u201cNeshnala.\u201d As a protection from insensitive idiots who thought it was cool to carve their initials in the tree\u2019s side, it was surrounded by a six-foot high chain-link fence, which meant of her many visits to pay her respects, she\u2019d never been able to touch it.
\nUntil eighteen months ago, when Frank Reyner, her boyfriend and lover, who also was the park\u2019s ranger, took her inside the fence for the first time. There were two more visits since. Each time she\u2019d put her fingertips on Neshnala\u2019s broad flank, nothing much happened outwardly; no sudden blinding revelations or trance-like swoons. Instead, there\u2019d been this profound sense of connection with the tree, not only with its rough outer bark, but with its life essence \u2013 its \u201csoul\u201d if that\u2019s what one preferred to call it. Touching the now dead deer\u2019s shoulder a few moments ago and quietly saying, \u201cBe at peace,\u201d Ro hoped to in some way be helping send the animal\u2019s essence back to its source, the place where all of us derive our life energy.
\n\u201cSissy, I\u2019m sure this would make for an interesting conversation, but can we get back on topic.\u201d
\n\u201cSorry, Deputy,\u201d the woman said with a puckish grin. \u201cWhen you\u2019re older, you think about stuff like that.\u201d Pointing to a farmhouse on the east side of the road three-quarters of a mile ahead, now visible in the emerging dawn, Sissy said, \u201cI live there. Our son… My son farms the land, but I live in the house. He has his own adjoining farm over on E.\u201d She meant County Road E, another north, south road a mile to the east. \u201cMy husband died several years ago, so I live alone.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the address there?\u201d
\n\u201cS-7825 Two Mile Road.\u201d
\nRo scribbled the address in her notebook.
\n\u201cAnd Daisy is a deer?\u201d Ro asked.
\n\u201cYes, one of several I feed.\u201d
\n\u201cFeed?\u201d
\n\u201cIn my backyard… Every week my son puts out fifty pounds of deer food; we also have a salt lick for them. I like to sit on my back porch in the morning with my coffee and watch them through binoculars.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd they all have names?\u201d
\n\u201cOh, yes. Daisy is a big doe with a pair of fawns. She\u2019s the one I thought I\u2019d lost.\u201d This with a catch in her throat.
\n\u201cHow do you tell them apart?\u201d
\n\u201cDaisy has a funny notch in her left ear. Prissy is shy, takes her time coming out of the woods to eat. And Blaze… Well, she has a small white blaze above her nose. You don\u2019t think I\u2019m a crazy old lady for giving them names, do you?\u201d
\n\u201cHardly,\u201d Ro said, thinking, Huh, I gave my squad car a nickname; at least your critters are alive.
\n\u201cWhere were you going so early in the morning, Sissy?\u201d Ro asked.
\n\u201cMy granddaughter is at Austin-Mercy in Lee\u2019s Landing about to have a baby. I was on my way to see her.\u201d
\n\u201cIs this your first great-grandchild?\u201d
\n\u201cHeavens no, this one\u2019ll be number three. Do you have any children, Deputy?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, I don\u2019t,\u201d Ro said, trying to make the answer sound casual.
\nThen, changing the subject, Ro said, \u201cThe tow truck will be around for your car later this morning. If I drive you to the hospital, will there by anyone there who can bring you home later?\u201d
\n\u201cOh, yes. I have eight kids, at least four or five will be at the hospital, as well as half-a-dozen grandchildren old enough to drive… I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d
\n\u201cEight! Wow!\u201d Ro said, trying to make it sound respectful, which a part of her did feel \u2212 anyone who\u2019d raised eight kids deserved respect \u2212 but at the same time secretly shuddering at the thought.
\nShe called dispatch to explain her errand. Then they headed for Lee\u2019s Landing.
\nAs they pulled to a stop under the covered portico of the hospital\u2019s main entrance, Sissy turned in her seat and put her hand on Ro\u2019s arm, giving it a squeeze, \u201cThank you so much.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s okay, I was only doing my job.\u201d
\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t thanking you only for that… I was thanking you for treating me with dignity. It might surprise you how condescending people can be when you\u2019ve got wrinkles and white hair. Oh, and Deputy,\u201d Sissy paused briefly to glance down at the plastic name badge above Ro\u2019s right breast pocket, \u201cDeputy Delahanty, get rid of the frown. I\u2019d bet you\u2019d be quite pretty without it.\u201d
\nRo had to laugh at the woman\u2019s insight, calling her out for wearing her \u201ccop face,\u201d a look she\u2019d cultivated involving frowning and pressing her lips together. Being a female cop was a given, but had wanted to project the image of a no-nonsense female cop.
\n\u201cSee,\u201d Sissy said triumphantly then stuck out her hand.
\nRo took it, \u201cIt was nice meeting you, Sissy. Go enjoy your visit with your family.\u201d<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][vc_row css=”.vc_custom_1718411046127{padding-top: 50px !important;}” woodmart_css_id=”666cdf1e1f431″ responsive_spacing=”eyJwYXJhbV90eXBlIjoid29vZG1hcnRfcmVzcG9uc2l2ZV9zcGFjaW5nIiwic2VsZWN0b3JfaWQiOiI2NjZjZGYxZTFmNDMxIiwic2hvcnRjb2RlIjoidmNfcm93IiwiZGF0YSI6eyJ0YWJsZXQiOnt9LCJtb2JpbGUiOnt9fX0=” mobile_bg_img_hidden=”no” tablet_bg_img_hidden=”no” woodmart_parallax=”0″ woodmart_gradient_switch=”no” woodmart_box_shadow=”no” wd_z_index=”no” woodmart_disable_overflow=”0″ row_reverse_mobile=”0″ row_reverse_tablet=”0″][vc_column][vc_custom_heading text=”Chapter Three” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23af2405″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1718412686382{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”][vc_custom_heading text=”BSLE” font_container=”tag:h1|font_size:50|text_align:center|color:%23000000″ use_theme_fonts=”yes” css=”.vc_custom_1719440344573{margin-bottom: 0px !important;}”]\t\t

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Wednesday, March 9, 2005 <\/em><\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t

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A<\/strong>s Ro wished Sissy a good day, the digital clock on the squad car\u2019s mobile data terminal (MDT) said it was 6:57. She was a few minutes from the end of her shift and only a little over a mile from her apartment.
\nOne of the first things Mark Ballard had done after being elected sheriff in 1992 \u2212 he\u2019d been re-elected to his fourth term last fall \u2212 was install the MDTs and drop the traditional all-deputies beginning-of-shift briefings and end-of-shift clocking out at department headquarters. He believed it added at least half an hour to a deputy\u2019s actual time in their patrol sector if they took their squad cars home and started their shifts from there.
\nAt 7:01, after backing the car into its usual spot in a corner of her apartment\u2019s parking lot away from other cars, Ro logged out on the MDT as officially off duty, but still picked up the mic to make the traditional but now superfluous call-in.
\n\u201cFort Armstrong One-Nine.\u201d
\n\u201cOne-Nine go.\u201d
\n\u201cOne-Nine 10-42\u201d \u2013 ending tour of duty.
\n\u201c10-04 One-Nine.\u201d
\nRo\u2019s two-bedroom, single bath apartment was part of the Westwynd complex, two-hundred units in more than three-dozen buildings around a long, triangular shaped drive on the west side of Lee\u2019s Landing. One of the reasons she\u2019d chosen it four years ago was the Shadowbrook Bike Path running along its south boundary. The path was her second favorite place to run after the state park. It was also more convenient.
\nThe apartment was her home. Well, if truth be known, perhaps a close second to the patrol car.
\nAs a third shift deputy \u2212 11 p.m. to 7 a.m., Tuesday through Saturday nights \u2013 it meant most people\u2019s mornings were her evenings and the converse.
\nSliding out of the front seat, Ro used the key fob to lock the doors, then reached up and laid her hand on the car\u2019s roof behind the light bar. \u201cThanks, Mr. Pete, see you later.\u201d
\nA black-and-white Ford Crown Vic Police Interceptor \u2013 for more than a decade the iconic law enforcement vehicle \u2013 \u201cMr. Pete\u201d was named in honor of Peter Panda, her childhood teddy bear that sat on a dresser in her bedroom \u2013 yes, both her childhood bedroom and current bedroom.
\nAgain, using the fob to pop the trunk and retrieve the black ballistic nylon duty bag, or what cops liked to call their \u201cwar bag,\u201d she carried it to the apartment needing to later clean the Glock she\u2019d fired.
\nRo\u2019s apartment was on the third floor, left side. The living room and adjacent dining room looked out over the parking lot, while the view from the two bedrooms at the back was of a woodsy area known locally as the Bottoms. Shadowbrook and its accompanying bike path ran through the Bottoms.
\nAs was her well-established routine…
\nThe first thing Ro did was head down the short hall, stick her head in the small bedroom used for sleeping and greet the three-foot teddy bear, \u201cHi, Peter.\u201d
\nThen would turn into the larger bedroom used as her study and lock her duty belt, with its service weapon, as well as the Glock 34 in her gun safe, today extracting her compact Glock 19 off-duty weapon, because…
\nBack in the smaller bedroom, she would undress, carefully hang her uniform in the closet, and today change into her chilly weather running gear, long insulated pants, a fleece jacket, gloves and her official running hat, a tattered Chicago Cubs baseball cap. Although not a Cubs fan \u2013 Ro didn\u2019t follow sports teams \u2013 it was because the hat had been a gag gift from her brother, a big St. Louis Cardinals supporter.
\nThe smaller Glock, along with her ID would then go into her fanny pack.
\nAfter the run \u2013 today a short three-miler on the bike path, not as long as usual, but long enough \u2212 she would change into comfortable cut-off sweats and a T-shirt, go to the kitchen, and make a protein and fruit smoothie for breakfast, then take it down the hall to her desk and what was waiting there, the nearly two-inch thick study guide for the corporal\u2019s exam.
\nDepartment policy required a minimum of two years\u2019 experience to make corporal, and, of course, passing an exam. Her second anniversary on the force would be in early July. The exam \u2212 a hundred multiple-choice questions covering topics like patrol and general police practices, traffic and accident investigation, firearms, arrest procedures, general criminal law, court testimony and rules of evidence; there was a chapter on each topic in the manual \u2212 was coming up next Monday.
\nFour corporal slots were open, so the top four scorers on the exam would earn their stripes. Ro had every intention of being one of those four by spending yet another hour \u2013 having already devoted forty-plus hours \u2212 to reviewing the many passages she had highlighted in the manual.
\nAt her desk, Ro flipped open the study manual and slipped a CD into her computer; a collection of Telemann\u2019s Essercizii Musici including several trio sonatas for various instruments. A classical music buff, a preference inherited from her father, she favored chamber music to help her concentrate.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

Although she\u2019d set the alarm next to her bed for 7:15 p.m., Ro rarely needed it, waking up on her own at seven or soon after. This time of year, the sun had already set, and it was dark when she was ready to start her \u201cmorning\u201d activities before going to work.
\nPreferring to sleep naked, Ro untangled herself from the queen-size bed\u2019s flannel sheets and greeted the teddy bear perched on the dresser, \u201cHi, Peter.\u201d She then retrieved the T-shirt and cutoffs which always ended up on the floor next to the bed and slipped them on.
\nAfter a stop in the bathroom, she headed down two flights of stairs to the building\u2019s foyer to retrieve the mail, her usual first \u201cmorning\u201d task. Most of the time it was ads for unwanted stuff, occasionally a bill, and rarely a personal message.
\nToday there was a thick, business-size envelope of heavier paper stock, the return address from the Parker Institute in Los Angeles. Ro was pretty sure as to what it was, but instead of tearing it open on the spot, smiled to herself, and savored the moment by going back upstairs, making herself a cup of tea, and sitting down at the dining room table to read the letter:<\/p>\n

Dear Ms. Delahanty:<\/p>\n

By the authority vested in me as President of Parker National Institute of Criminal Justice and upon the recommendation of the faculty, the purpose of this letter is to officially acknowledge you have successfully completed all the requirements for and are hereby awarded a Bachelor of Science in Law Enforcement, magna cum laude, as of March 1, 2005. Congratulations.<\/p>\n

She stared at the paper, smiling. I\u2019m a college graduate!
\nAlthough her last required class and her last term paper were both completed before Christmas, and her grade \u2013 an A, like most \u2013 had arrived late in January… And even though a letter like this was expected… Now, seeing it officially in print was amazing.
\nRo supposed there had to be at least a couple million undergraduate degrees awarded every year, but still they were not that common. And, yes, several of her sheriff\u2019s department colleagues had bachelor\u2019s, a couple of officers even had master\u2019s degrees. But an everyday street cop like her \u2212 which is how she always proudly thought of herself \u2212 with a college degree was still a rarity.
\nBachelor of Science in Law Enforcement.
\nIt had been a long time coming. After graduating from high school in 2001, she started a Criminal Justice Associates at Mississippi Valley Community College over in Illinois, but later switched to Parker\u2019s online program. Over the last four years it had meant literally hundreds of hours reading textbooks, doing research, writing papers, and taking part in the interminable online discussion groups.
\nMagna cum laude\u2212 with distinction.
\nIt had been worth it.
\nThe rest of the letter explained her transcript was available upon request, in case needed by her employer or for pursuing further education; Parker Institute held graduation ceremonies twice a year, the next one being in June at the college\u2019s campus in Los Angeles; or, if preferred, they would mail her degree. There was even a brochure offering framing motifs in varying levels of elegance.
\nWith a smile, although also with a little tearing around the edge of her eyes, Ro stood up from the dining room table and walked down the hall to first show Peter Panda the letter. Then spent a big chunk of the rest of her \u201cmorning\u201d on the phone with her mother and father, her brother Tuck, her boyfriend Frank, and her best friend Atti, sharing the news.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 2024 by David F. Ramacitti, writing as Dave Lager<\/p>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t[\/vc_column][\/vc_row][\/vc_section]<\/p>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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