She was going to destroy him. The ride to the 42nd Precinct was suffocatingly tense. Valerie sat in the molded plastic seat of the cruiser's rear compartment, her posture rigidly upright despite the awkward, painful pull of the handcuffs behind her back. In the front seat, the atmosphere was thick with unease. Walsh drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, his eyes constantly darting to the rearview mirror.
He looked pale, visibly shaken by the unprovoked violence he had just witnessed. Jenkins, however, was practically vibrating with misplaced triumph. "Did you see that, Walsh? " Jenkins bragged, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "That's how you establish dominance on the street. You give an inch, they take a mile.
She thought she could spout some textbook legal garbage at me and walk away. Now she's catching a felony resisting charge. " Walsh swallowed hard. "Jenkins, I didn't see her doing anything wrong. She was just walking and she knew the statutes. What if she's a lawyer or something? " Jenkins threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, grating sound.
"A lawyer? Her? Please. She probably memorized a couple of lines off a daytime TV show. She's a nobody, Walsh.
Just another loudmouth who thinks the rules don't apply to her. By the time I'm done writing this report, she'll be begging for a plea deal. " Valerie listened to every word, filing it away. She mentally drafted the civil rights violation indictment as the cruiser navigated the city streets. She wasn't just a lawyer. Two weeks ago, she had been sworn in as the district's chief prosecutor, overseeing a staff of over 300 attorneys and investigators.
She was the absolute highest legal authority in the county, a woman who routinely dined with the mayor and had the power to indict police chiefs. And this beat cop had just assaulted her. The cruiser pulled into the gated sally port of the 42nd precinct. Jenkins hauled Valerie out of the backseat by her upper arm, roughly dragging her toward the heavy steel doors of the booking area. "Keep moving," he ordered, giving her an unnecessary shove forward.
The booking room of the precinct was a chaotic symphony of ringing phones, shouting officers, and clacking keyboards. As Jenkins marched Valerie toward the elevated front desk, a few heads turned, but most officers ignored the routine sight of an arrest. Behind the high desk stood Sergeant Miller, a weary, gray-haired veteran who was methodically stamping paperwork. "Got a live one for you, Sarge," Jenkins announced loudly, slapping his hand on the counter. "Jane Doe, refused to identify, trespassing, obstruction of justice, resisting arrest, and assaulting a police officer. " Walsh, standing a few feet behind them, flinched.
"Assaulting an officer? " he whispered under his breath. Valerie hadn't even raised a hand. Sergeant Miller sighed, not looking up from his forms. "Put her in holding cell three. I'll get the fingerprint scanner ready to figure out who she is. " "I can save you the trouble of the fingerprints, Sergeant. " Valerie spoke for the first time since she had been thrown to the ground.