killings, robberies, drug wars, turf wars, on and on it went. Sara's stories often made it seem as though the criminal element went unchecked, as if there were no police presence. And Jack knew that just wasn't true. He knew their stats. He ate, slept, breathe their stats. Last year officers handled 31,034 calls for service, which was the equivalent of more than one call for service for every resident of the city, as though the entire population had called. Officers additionally generated over 6,300 incidents reports in that time which resulted in 3,651 arrests. The Department investigated 11 Homicides, 7 Rapes, 195 Robberies, 310 Aggravated Assaults, 284 Burglaries, 724 Larcenies and 66 Auto Thefts.
And recent crimes had made the national news once again creating the impression that the City of Newburgh was a hotbed of crime some sort of wild-west in the east. The more heartbreaking of these crimes had been a little boy gone missing while in the care of his mother's boyfriend. The boy's body had been found in a duffle bag in a small field in the Flats. The boyfriend was eventually charged and convicted. Then a mother of four drove herself and the kids into the Hudson River, right off the Newburgh Landing. All had parish but the eldest child who, at the time, had been the tender age of ten. And now, some asshole was reducing the black female population in a most gruesome manner. Jack didn't know what the fuck was going on in his city but he knew his men were doing their job and doing it damn well.
He had been harsh with Sara due to her last story which implied the city of Newburgh hadn't taken a black woman's missing teen seriously, implying that if the teen had been white the entire force and S.W.A.T. would have been called. Jack had been livid when he read the story. And even more so when Sara had failed to report that the teen was found unharmed with her friends on an impromptu road trip.
Well enough was enough!
He had a meeting in the morning with a special section of the FBI, a splintered group of the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) known as the HCD (Hate Crimes Division). Jack pulled into the station's underground parking in the Tower Building. He had several files that needed work and his signature. Then he could go home to bed and hopefully to sleep. Sleep had evaded him since the murders started. They were disturbingly reminiscent of the crime which had changed his life forever back in 1988.
Catlyn Lyte. The name whispered through his mind. Throughout the years he had often thought of her. Wondering what had become of her, questions whorled around in his head whenever he thought of her, always the same questions, how was she? Had she ever recovered from the horrible thing that had happened to her? Where had she gone when she left Newburgh so abruptly almost immediately after being discharged from the hospital? Was she still shy? Was she still gorgeous? Was she still sweet and sexy? Did she still taste so good? Did she still hate him?
At the last question Jack felt a bone deep weariness take a hold of him. He opened his office, turned on the light, smiling when he saw post-its with terse instructions on neat stacks of papers. Tasha!
'Sign these' and 'For your approval' and 'Your dinner is in the fridge. Eat it' Jack tossed that one in the garbage and then broke out laughing as there was another one directly under it reading 'What'd I say?'
Thank God for Tasha. She had been a godsend when she had shown up looking for work 12 years earlier. Jack admitted his life had become a wreck. Tasha had come breezily into his office stating he needed her in the worst way. Remembering her from his time with Catlyn he couldn't resist hiring her after she more than proved her qualifications for the job.
Jack shied away from one of the reasons he hired Tasha being a tenuous connection to Catlyn. If Catlyn ever looked up her old friend Tasha, she would also find him. He knew
And recent crimes had made the national news once again creating the impression that the City of Newburgh was a hotbed of crime some sort of wild-west in the east. The more heartbreaking of these crimes had been a little boy gone missing while in the care of his mother's boyfriend. The boy's body had been found in a duffle bag in a small field in the Flats. The boyfriend was eventually charged and convicted. Then a mother of four drove herself and the kids into the Hudson River, right off the Newburgh Landing. All had parish but the eldest child who, at the time, had been the tender age of ten. And now, some asshole was reducing the black female population in a most gruesome manner. Jack didn't know what the fuck was going on in his city but he knew his men were doing their job and doing it damn well.
He had been harsh with Sara due to her last story which implied the city of Newburgh hadn't taken a black woman's missing teen seriously, implying that if the teen had been white the entire force and S.W.A.T. would have been called. Jack had been livid when he read the story. And even more so when Sara had failed to report that the teen was found unharmed with her friends on an impromptu road trip.
Well enough was enough!
He had a meeting in the morning with a special section of the FBI, a splintered group of the BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit) known as the HCD (Hate Crimes Division). Jack pulled into the station's underground parking in the Tower Building. He had several files that needed work and his signature. Then he could go home to bed and hopefully to sleep. Sleep had evaded him since the murders started. They were disturbingly reminiscent of the crime which had changed his life forever back in 1988.
Catlyn Lyte. The name whispered through his mind. Throughout the years he had often thought of her. Wondering what had become of her, questions whorled around in his head whenever he thought of her, always the same questions, how was she? Had she ever recovered from the horrible thing that had happened to her? Where had she gone when she left Newburgh so abruptly almost immediately after being discharged from the hospital? Was she still shy? Was she still gorgeous? Was she still sweet and sexy? Did she still taste so good? Did she still hate him?
At the last question Jack felt a bone deep weariness take a hold of him. He opened his office, turned on the light, smiling when he saw post-its with terse instructions on neat stacks of papers. Tasha!
'Sign these' and 'For your approval' and 'Your dinner is in the fridge. Eat it' Jack tossed that one in the garbage and then broke out laughing as there was another one directly under it reading 'What'd I say?'
Thank God for Tasha. She had been a godsend when she had shown up looking for work 12 years earlier. Jack admitted his life had become a wreck. Tasha had come breezily into his office stating he needed her in the worst way. Remembering her from his time with Catlyn he couldn't resist hiring her after she more than proved her qualifications for the job.
Jack shied away from one of the reasons he hired Tasha being a tenuous connection to Catlyn. If Catlyn ever looked up her old friend Tasha, she would also find him. He knew
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