AS COMMANDER ERIC FORTIER STOOD OUTSIDE THE CRESCENT PARISH POLICE DEPARTMENT, the flame of his lighter hovered inches from the half-lit cigarette hanging from his lips. Before the fire could kiss the tobacco, frustration sparked in his mind.
With a sigh, he let the flame die.
"I've spent my whole life preparing for this position, working my tail off every single day. And for what? To freeze up and make a fool of myself in front of my team—and the Chief?"
He reignited the lighter, raising it to the cigarette once more as his thoughts continued to burn.
This parish is going to hell. First, they hand it over to some self-righteous, holier-than-thou plant woman, and now civilians are running law enforcement. What a farce of a kingdom.
A sudden clang of metal crashing against the pavement echoed from the alley beside the CPD. Fortier snapped the lighter shut, the cigarette still unlit.
Casually, he advanced down the alleyway, eyes scanning the shadows.
"Who's there?" he called out, pausing to listen.
Impatience tugged at his lips. "Surely no one's stupid enough to stir up trouble right outside a police department."
A voice cut through the silence from behind him.
"Wouldn't they, Commander?"
Cold metal pressed against his back.
"I'm not much for ideas. I left that part up to my brother."
"MAN, THAT SUCKED—WHAT A WASTE OF TIME. WE HARDLY GOT ANY INFORMATION OUT OF HIM," Jackie muttered, shutting the door to the chief's office behind her.
Chief Nkosi let out a long sigh, reaching into his coat pocket—only to pause mid-motion. His hand hesitated before retreating as he sank into his chair.
Jackie, catching the movement, leaned over the desk and flipped open his coat. Two cigars sat nestled inside the pocket.
"I thought we agreed you'd quit," she said, eyes narrowing in irritation.
"Heh!" The chief let out a nervous chuckle. "What can I say? Old habits die hard when you're stuck in an office all day."
Jackie remained unimpressed. Without a word, she grabbed the small trash can beside his desk and held it out to him.
"Really?" the chief asked, eyeing her stern expression.
Sensing she wouldn't budge, Chief Nkosi sighed and relented. "These weren't cheap, you know," he grumbled, dropping the cigars into the trash.
"I've already lost one fool to those things—I'm not losing another," Jackie said, setting the bin back on the floor.
Silence settled between them.
Jackie had lost her father to smoking years ago. Now, she made it a point to keep her fictive uncle from meeting the same fate.
"So, any luck with the kid?" the chief asked.
Jackie scratched her head. "None. I checked the missing persons' files like you said, but he doesn't match any descriptions. You might have better luck posting fliers."
"You think so?"
"What? Don't you agree?"
"It's not that. It's just…" The chief hesitated. "Finding him in a place like that… There's no way anyone could have survived out there alone, let alone a kid. I doubt his mind is all there." He exhaled, sympathy lacing his voice. "The boys in the lab say he's been living there for well over a year, judging by the condition of some of his body parts. Surely, it wasn't by his own doing."
"Maybe," she yawned. "Hard to imagine someone going through that much trouble just to get rid of a kid, though."
The chief pondered for a moment before shifting the conversation to a more pressing matter.
"Well, stepping away from the hows and whys for a second, I have a favor to ask."
"I'm listening."
"I hate to put this on you, but I hate the idea of a kid his age sitting behind bars even more. God forbid our cells fill up and we have to send him to the streets or another department. A place full of felons is no place for a boy his age. How about letting him stay in one of your apartment units? Just until we figure out who he is."
"I'm no longer listening," she said, gathering her things with brisk, decisive movements.
"Consider it a favor for your dear uncle. I'll cover everything out of my own pocket—rent, food, clothes, the works."
Jackie exhaled sharply, then groaned. "Ugh, fine." She leaned over the desk, jabbing a finger at him. "But if I catch you with another smoke, your favor-seeking days are over."
"Okay, okay, I'm through. Scout's honor."
As Jackie headed for the door, Chief Kota Nkosi offered his sincerest thanks.
"Thank you, love."
"Yeah, yeah. This one's gonna hurt your credit with me, old man."
The chief slumped back into his seat, already contemplating the cost of his favor as the door shut.
AS JACKIE NEARED THE HALLS OF THE DEPARTMENT, heading for the holding cells, she stretched and let out a yawn. "I really have to stop doing favors for people. They never seem to benefit me."
Just then, an officer exited the locker room, adjusting his collar. He gave her a nod as he walked by. Through the briefly opened door, Jackie caught a glimpse of a sweat suit hanging neatly in an open locker.
TWIRLING THE KEY TO THE CELL, Jackie stopped in front of Noir, slipping a pair of sweats and slides through the bars.
"Let's go, kid. You're coming with me. We've got a better place for you to stay until we can figure out who you are." She unlocked the cell door, giving him a pointed look. "But first, you stink. You're taking a shower before we leave."
She held her breath as Noir stepped out, silently praying that a quick rinse would help with the stench. You have to bring your own soap, but hopefully a simple rinse will do well enough.