Playing the Game Page 15

  *

  “I think it was a good party. Jorja certainly had fun,” Olivia said, getting into bed.

  “Yeah.” Randi nodded.

  “Berkley left early.”

  “She was tired. Tonight was her first night off in a few days,” Randi lied. She squeezed her eyes closed and sighed inwardly. This wasn’t her. Lying and sneaking around, kissing someone else. What are you doing to me, Berkley Ward?

  26

  Berkley’s days off went by too fast. As she started her next work week, her mind was on two things…her psych exam and her PT exam, both of which were scheduled for a few days later.

  After a particularly difficult call where she had to go with the Department of Children’s Services to remove a child from an unfit home, she drove through Dunkin Donuts drive-thru. The horrible coffee and stale donut didn’t matter. She wasn’t even sure she tasted them. She’d just needed something to refocus her brain.

  “South 5—11-80 reported at the corner of Nettles Road and Ranger Parkway,” dispatch said over the radio. At the same time, the call came across the computer in Berkley’s patrol car with a little more detail. It was a three-car accident with reported injuries. She grabbed the mic and pushed the button.

  “327—responding, two minutes out,” she said, pressing the gas pedal to the floor as she flipped the switch for the lights and sirens.

  “415—responding, ETA four minutes,” Garrett radioed behind her.

  Berkley saw a small red car, a dark green SUV, and another vehicle that was so smashed, all she could tell was it was white. From the looks of it, the SUV had run the red light, plowing into the white vehicle, which hit the red car.

  She skidded to a stop and keyed the radio. “327—10-98, request EMS.” Then, she grabbed road flares out of her trunk and quickly popped a few to signal oncoming traffic even though there was ample light in the intersection, which was protocol for a multicar accident with major injuries.

  “EMS is already en route—327,” the dispatcher replied.

  “Is anyone hurt?” she asked, going over to the red car, which was nearest to her.

  “My neck is a little sore, but okay,” the twenty-something young man said.

  “Sit tight. EMS is on the way,” she told him as she rushed to the mangled wreckage of the white vehicle. The driver, a middle-aged male, was slumped over the steering wheel, which was crushed into his chest, and his legs were pinned in an awkward position under the dash. She reached in through the broken window and checked for a pulse, but got nothing. She grabbed his arm, checking his wrist, then went back to his neck. Nothing.

  “What do we have?” Garrett asked, rushing up to her. “EMS was right behind me, about two miles back.”

  “This one is DOA. Check the SUV. The guy in the red car is okay, but complaining of pain.”

  Dena and Maggie pulled up in the ambulance, with the fire truck coming in front of them. Both women rushed over to Berkley, who was standing next to the white vehicle.

  “DOA?” Dena asked.

  Berkley nodded.

  “Damn, man. I hate those,” she sighed as she went into the bag to get out a stethoscope to double-check. Sure enough, there were no breath sounds, no heart rhythm…no sounds of any kind at all.

  Maggie had already gone to assess the guy in the red car, and the two people in the SUV were out, walking around.

  Berkley stood aside, watching the firemen use the jaws of life to cut open the door so that they could retrieve the deceased man. As soon it popped open, they quickly cut the steering wheel off and pried the dash up before pulling him out and placing his limp body on the stretcher. Dena covered him with a white sheet.

  “Guy in the red car has some neck pain but says he doesn’t need to ride in the ambulance. His friend is on the way and will take him to the hospital. The people in the SUV are shook up, but otherwise fine,” Maggie said.

  “What a night,” Berkley muttered as Dena and Maggie wheeled the stretcher into the ambulance. The stark white sheet with the outline of a human body lying under it made her sick to her stomach.

  “Yeah, haven’t seen one of these in a while,” Dena said, closing the double doors.

  “I had a DCF call right before this.”

  “Oh, no. Was it bad?”

  “We removed a six-year-old.”

  “Aw. Berk, that sucks,” Dena said, squeezing her forearm.

  “Yep. Those are the saddest calls…next to having to go tell that man’s family that he’s not coming home tonight,” she sighed. As the senior officer on the scene of a vehicular homicide, she needed to speak with everyone, so she walked away to start with the husband and wife in the dark green SUV.

  *

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been to New Orleans,” Carrie said as she boarded the plane for their national team friendly game against Mexico.

  “Me either,” Randi replied, opening a magazine.

  “Have you been to the coffee shop this week?”

  “If you’re asking if I’ve seen Berkley, the answer is no. I haven’t spoken to her since the party.”

  “I didn’t see you talk to her at all.”

  “It was brief. She and her friend left right after,” Randi said, watching the guy load their baggage through the window.

  “Do you want to talk about the kiss you told me about?”

  “Nope.” Randi flipped the page in her magazine.

  A few minutes later, the flight crew went through the safety procedures and the plane was pushed back from the gate.

  “Here we go,” Carrie said, mostly to herself, feeling the excited nerves she usually got when she flew.

  *

  The flight was quick, and as soon as they touched down, there was a chartered bus waiting to take Randi and Carrie to the hotel, along with a handful of other players who had flown in around the same time.

  As usual, the two of them were assigned as roommates for the short trip. It was a weeknight game on Wednesday night, so they had plenty of time to get back to Richey for their away game on Sunday in Seattle.

  Randi tossed her bag onto the bed nearest the window and flopped down beside it.

  “We have a team meeting in two hours,” Carrie said, mimicking her position. “Do you remember our first national team game together?”

  “The game or the hotel?” Randi asked with a smile. “Man, that place was weird.”

  Carrie laughed. “Oh my God, I thought I was going to die when we accidentally ordered porn on the TV.”

  “Me too! You know what’s crazy, we never got asked about it.”

  Carrie had tears rolling down her cheeks from laughing hysterically. “I bet they think we watched it!”

  “It wasn’t even in English.”

  “I bet the subtitles were hilarious!”

  “How would you like to have that job?” Randi chuckled.

  Just then, both of their phones beeped with a group text. The team meeting was starting in five minutes, then they were having a buffet dinner.

  27

  Berkley wasn’t sure doing a psych exam right after the end of a shift was a good idea, but she had no choice. Her appointment was at nine o’clock in the morning. She’d gotten home just before seven, giving her enough time to grab a bite to eat and take a quick shower. She dressed in a pair of black slacks and a light gray button-down shirt with short sleeves. Then, she slipped on a pair of black oxford dress shoes and headed out the door.

  “Geesh,” she mumbled, riding through the parking lot of the office building, looking for an open space. Finally, after her third loop, someone pulled out. She quickly sped down the aisle from the other side as a yellow beetle turned the corner, obviously seeing the car leave. “Oh, no you don’t bumblebee! I’ll run your ass over,” she said as she pulled up, blocking the beetle as she backed in. She grabbed the coffee she’d gotten from the Grind on the way, and got out of the truck.

  “That was my spot asshole!” so
me young girl yelled out the open window of her car, flipping her middle finger at Berkley.

  “Are there assigned spaces in this lot?” Berkley said, looking around for posted signs.

  “Fuck you, bitch! I’ll whip your ass!”

  “Is that a threat?” Berkley asked. She wasn’t worried, not in the least bit. She could put this girl over her shoulder with ease and give her the spanking she obviously never got at home as a child, all while holding her coffee cup.

  “Bitch, I don’t make threats; I make promises.”

  “Okay, so you promise to whip my ass? Is that correct?”

  The girl threw her car in park and swung the door open. Berkley pulled her wallet from her back pocket and flipped it open, revealing her badge.

  “I suggest you take your smartass mouth somewhere else. I don’t know who raised you, but you certainly have no respect for anyone…including yourself,” Berkley said, putting her wallet away. “If you threaten violence on me one more time, I’m not only going to arrest you for threatening an officer, but I’m going to give you the ass-whipping you deserve.”

  “You can’t talk to me like that,” the girl spat as she closed her door.

  “I just did,” Berkley stated, beginning to lose her patience with this kid. “Just so you know, three spots have opened in the two minutes you’ve been sitting here running your mouth.”

  The girl grumbled, then drove off.

  Berkley shook her head and checked her watch. She had five minutes to get inside the building and up to the third floor. “Damn kid,” she muttered.

  *

  Randi was running along the beach with a laughing smile on her face and the sun beating down on her face. The sand was warm on her bare feet. Suddenly, she tripped and fell.

  “Wake up,” Carrie whispered harshly when Randi startled awake.

  The assistant coach was going over film for the team they were playing that night, when Randi looked towards the front of the room. The last thing she remembered was the head coach going over game strategy and talking about depth in every position, and cross-position players being valuable.

  “How long was I asleep?”

  “Long enough,” Carrie mumbled.

  “Is everything okay in the back?” the assistant coach asked. “I know we’ve been sitting in this dark room for two hours. Let’s end it here and head over to the practice field to get our blood flowing.”

  Randi kept silent, and Carrie simply shook her head at her best friend.

  “Is everything okay with you?” Carrie asked as they walked out of the conference center and headed up to their room to get ready for practice. “You seemed restless in your sleep last night.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I couldn’t get comfortable.”

  Carrie didn’t believe her. “Are you sure it’s not some dilemma involving your girlfriend of five years and a certain good-looking cop?”

  “No. I’ve told you, there’s nothing going on with me and Berkley,” Randi said harshly. “Maybe you should worry about your own relationship.”

  Carrie was taken aback. She looked like she’d just been slapped in the face. “Excuse me? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Your conversations are a minute long, and when you’re together, you barely talk to each other.”

  “At least I’m not trying fuck someone behind her back!”

  “Seriously!” Randi was about to go off on her, but she bit back her angry words. “Are we really going to do this?”

  “You tell me,” Carrie growled, ready to give her an earful.

  “Come on, Care, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to argue with you.” Randi sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry,” she sighed.

  “Look, I know you’re going through some shit, and clearly I am too, but snapping at each other isn’t us.”

  “Hug it out?” Randi said, raising her eyes to meet Carrie’s.

  “Of course.” She smiled, holding her arms out.

  Randi stood up and stepped closer, hugging her best friend. “I really am sorry. If you need to talk, I’m here.”

  “I’m sorry, too, and I know. I’m just not ready.”

  “I understand.”

  “Come on,” Carrie said, pulling away. “Let’s go get all sweaty.”

  “You know we’re not even playing tonight. This is a waste of time.”

  Carrie nodded in agreement as they left the room.

  *

  “Officer Ward…may I call you Berkley?”

  “Sure,” she said, looking at the doctor’s beady eyes. He was probably in his mid-sixties and had a mixture of gray and brown hair on his head. However, his thin beard was nearly all gray. He was lean and lanky and reminded her of one of those large grasshoppers all folded up in his leather, wing-back chair with a yellow legal pad in his lap. She was directly across from him in a similar chair, with a cherry wood coffee table separating them. She’d never been to a psychologist’s office. When she was going through everything to get accepted to the police academy, she’d gone through a psych evaluation, but it had been done at the academy, and by senior officers, not a real doctor.

  “Tell me about your parents. Are they both still alive?” he asked.

  “Yes. What does this have to do with SWAT?”

  “Nothing. I’m just trying to get to know you a little bit.”

  Berkley nodded. “Let me speed this up a bit. I’m an only child. My parents met at the University of California, Berkley…hence my name. They moved to Texas when they were pregnant with me. They’d both just graduated and my father had a job offer. He’s a mechanical engineer for Dyna Tech Oil, where he designs and builds oil rigs and other equipment. He’s actually retiring next year. And my mother is retired from the school board. They live in Dallas, and I see them on the holidays. Before becoming a police officer, I was an EMT. When I finished school at the University of Texas, Richey Emergency Services was hiring EMTs and firefighters for two new stations. I applied. That’s how I wound up here. I have nothing against Dallas, I was just looking for a place to start my life, and Richey seemed like a good one. After three years as an EMT, I was on a bad call one night where there was gunfire. We were staged a mile away while two people were bleeding to death. The police finally stopped the guy, and we rushed in to find that there was also a third gunshot victim. My riding partner and I did everything we could that night, but all three of them died. I realized I wanted to be the one protecting them, not just saving them. So, I went through the police academy a few months later. I am still EMT certified, and ride along with the fire station every quarter to keep my certification. I guess you could say I’m protecting and saving lives now. I’m single, by choice, and I love my job. I’m dedicated day in and day out to the people of Richey.”

  The doctor scratched his beard and set his pen down. “Well…that was a mouthful,” he chuckled.

  “I guess I’m nervous, and I have no idea what a psych evaluation for SWAT is,” she said.

  “Basically, I talk to you…or rather, listen to you.” He smiled. “Then, I make an assessment based off our conversation. SWAT is like a beat cop on steroids, if you will. The department has to make sure the people they put there are mentally able to handle the job.”

  Berkley nodded. “So, me telling you my life story wasn’t exactly needed.”

  “Correct, but it gave me some good insight. And, it’s a good story.” He smiled. “Listen, Berkley, I’m not here to derail your career path or anything like that. I’ve seen your file. You’re an excellent officer. I’m actually surprised you haven’t decided to move up in rank. Have you given any thought to taking the sergeant exam?”

  “Sure, but I want to do more than ride a beat before that happens. I’ve wanted to be in SWAT ever since the academy. I’ve worked my ass…uh, butt off to get to this point, mentally and physically.”

  “How do you think you’ll stack up with the other SWAT members?”

 
“The same way I do on the street. I’m a senior patrol officer, and I’m a woman. It takes guts, intelligence, integrity, and a hell of a lot of grit. Working with SWAT means the situation will change, but the variables are still the same. I’ll still be a police officer working with other officers who put their life on the line every day, and who are sworn to protect the people of Richey.”

  He nodded and wrote a few notes. “It looks like our hour is up.”

  “Wow. That went by fast.”

  “Yeah, they usually do.”

  “Do I need to come back?”

  “No, not unless you need to have a regular session with me.”

  “Nope. I’m good.”

  He held his hand out. “Good luck with everything.”

  “Did I pass?” she asked, shaking his hand.

  “I have to turn in my report, but I don’t see anything that would hold you back.”

  Berkley smiled and nodded before leaving his office. “Holy shit,” she muttered as she got into the elevator. “Next up, Physical Fitness. If I can’t pass this, I’m never working out again,” she said to herself as she walked across the parking lot.

  28

  The United States was up three to zero with twenty minutes to go. Neither Carrie nor Randi had started the game, and both were still sitting on the bench.

  “I told you she was only playing the rookies. She went on and on about position depth and so on,” Randi said.

  “Yep, put you right to sleep,” Carrie laughed.

  Randi shrugged.

  “Here she comes,” Carrie whispered. “One of us is going in.”

  “Doubt it. She’s used most of her subs.”