Jasmine Steele Mysteries Vol. 1-5 by Kimberly Amato

Author:Kimberly Amato [Amato, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little Crown Productions
Published: 2020-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

***

The basement is dark, dank, and all-around gloomy. There are a few officers down here keeping the sealed room cataloged and doing the mundane work associated with this area. I wonder if they prefer it down here. It’s quiet, no one is shooting at you, and sometimes people like me come down and ask for help. Otherwise, it’s catalogued, entered into the system, and put in the shelving units. The ventilation system is loud as hell down here. It sounds like a bat repeatedly slamming into a wall every five seconds. There’s got to be a compromise between needing the most powerful air system and it being quiet enough to think. The constant hammering would drive me bonkers.

“Excuse me,” I ask the officer behind a bulletproof Lexan window. It’s then that I notice a little silver button with a microphone is embedded in the wall to the right. “Excuse me,” I say again with my thumb firmly planted on the button.

The officer, older with a white goatee, turns to face me. He has the most piercing blue eyes silhouetted by the dark circles under them. He gingerly stands up from his perch and limps over to the window. I guess that’s why he’s down here. Not because he wants to be, but out of necessity. The hierarchy wouldn’t want this to be the face of our precinct when you walk in. They want you to see the healthiest and best the NYPD has to offer. At least mine does and it’s all up to the captain. If you’re injured or maimed in the line of duty, you work outside the view of the average citizen. Hell, he made me hide in my office for a long time until I could use my arm fully. Before then, I looked like a baby trying to fully understand grasping items for the first time. I am not ambidextrous. Well, I can be, but usually Frankie’s involved in that.

“Can I see your credentials?” The officer brings me back to reality as he slides a metal drawer out of the wall.

“Yeah, sure,” I slip my identification in the drawer only to watch it get eaten by the old school bank teller drawer. He holds my wallet up to the Lexan, the picture facing him as he studies me.

“Reason for visiting us in the dungeon?” I place the paper Doctor Brown gave me up to the divider and let him read through it. I don’t want to go into too much detail. I know there’s a connection, but I’m not quite sure what I’m going to find. If he talks to any of his buddies or radios upstairs, that might get people’s hopes up. Or maybe I’m not one to share information readily. I lean more to the latter.

The drawer hits me in the crotch. My eyes lock with the officer who has a slight smile on his face. Not a malicious one, but more like my father used to give me when he smacked the back of my head.

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