This is the first in a chain of flash fiction pieces by the wonderfully talented Lace Winter. I adore the narrator’s voice and Lace’s command of what I’m dubbing, “cop language”. Things really start to heat up by part 3, so you should definitely catch up before the next installment.
“I got this,” I said, as Travers grabbed the perp’s other arm and started muscling him into the station house.
“You sure, McConnell? He’s kind of a big guy.”
I felt the familiar twinge of annoyance but suppressed it in the interests of professionalism. Why did Travers have to keep proving himself to me? Or was it to the others on the squad? Did he really think I couldn’t handle one tall but scrawny pimp in handcuffs whose probable idea of a workout was standing on the street corner watching his girls work the street?
“Yeah, I’m sure. Now go get the paperwork started, would you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he responded with just a bit of a smirk and dropped his hold on the perp.
I really needed to do something about this attitude. It was bad enough to have my squad mates wonder if I was up to the job of the…
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