S2 EP16

The cops sat in Shaw Memorial Hospital's lobby, which had been converted into the LAPD Blood Drive centre. Some cops, despite seeing all sorts of gore on calls, were queasy when it came to their own blood.

In particular, Avery Morrison.

He squirmed a little, watching his blood leaving his arm through the tube, his face betraying all his thoughts.

Ollie, seated opposite him, refrained from snickering at the young T.O.

"Why do you keep staring if it makes you squirm?" she asked.

"I just can't take my eyes off it—" Avery shrieked in his seat, causing the other officers to chuckle.

When Avery's gaze finally left his forearm, Ollie found him watching an approaching figure from behind her. She also caught his glance dropping with a slight tilt of his head.

She spotted Tim as he stepped into the area in a white dress shirt and a neatly done tie. He nodded at the few of them as a greeting, already rolling up his sleeve.

Damn, that forearm.

Then, she caught Avery's gaze finally leaving his forearm, and was glancing at...

Ollie narrowed her eyes at Avery, who cleared his throat after Tim sat in the empty seat beside his rookie. Avery seemed to have noticed her stare.

Were you checking him out? she mouthed to the man opposite her.

Avery hastily averted his gaze to the ceiling.

"Why the suit?" Grace asked while she prepped Tim's arm for blood donation.

"Court appearance," the officer replied shortly.

"Ever given blood before?"

"Every eight weeks, like clockwork."

The doctor nodded impressively. "Good for you."

"Yeah, save lives, get a personal oil change," Tim shrugged, "It's win-win."

"I didn't know machines had blood," Harper butted in from the side of the room, earning several chortles from the other officers.

Grace smiled at the joke, handing Tim one of the squishy balls. "You know the drill. Light squeezes," she reminded him before heading over to John.

Ollie continued squeezing lightly on her squishy ball. Harper sat silently in her chair. Grace and John were engaged in a discussion. Avery was back to staring squeamishly at his forearm.

Ollie turned her head to her T.O. abruptly with a question in mind. But no words came out as she watched the man to her right loosening his tie with his free hand, tipping his head while doing so...

Who the hell wears such a suit to a court appearance?

At her horror, Tim peered over to her with a genuine frown. "What's wrong with my suit?"

Ollie felt her cheeks flushing hot. "Nothing— Looks, um, good. Yeah." She cleared her throat hastily before asking, "If you have a court appearance, who am I pairing up with?"

"Front desk," Tim answered, "Until I return."

"And, uh, how long would that take...?"

"Anywhere around an hour to half a day."

The rookie groaned in response, suddenly wanting this blood donation to last forever.

Tim shook his head at her.

This time, it was Avery's turn to stare at the woman opposite him with a smirk on his face. Hot, right? he mouthed back.

Ollie flashed him a middle finger in response.

The doctor glanced over to the officer, who had just placed aside his juice box with a disregarded look. "Make sure you drink the whole thing down," she insisted sternly.

"Woman, I'm a grown-ass man. I don't need a juice box," Grey insisted with a chuckle, moving to rise from his chair— but quickly wavered on his feet and ended up sitting back down heavily.

"Whoa. You okay?" Grace asked amusedly.

Grey furrowed his brows with a grunt. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Sir, did you just faint?" John cut in; the other officers in the blood drive centre snickered quietly.

Grey shot them a scowl. "No, I briefly succumbed to gravity."

➤➤➤

"I need to get a restraining order," the man stated solemnly to the officer behind the front desk.

Ollie glanced up at him curiously. "Okay..." she mumbled, reaching for the related paperwork, "Against whom?"

"My cat— Meow Tse Tung."

Ollie blinked at the man. Twice. She then set the clipboard aside and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, sir, but we only handle complaints here against, well, people."

The man was still staring back at her sincerely. "Don't you want to know what he did?"

"I really, really don't," Ollie chuckled back weakly. "Hope you have a nice day, sir."

The man turned disappointedly and walked away; the rookie shared an amused look with the other officer working reception.

"Hi," another voice greeted the officer as a woman walked up to the front desk, "I'm Valerie Castillo. I work for the Los Angeles Herald," she flashed an identification. "I'm here to see yesterday's case reports."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ollie replied delightedly, rolling behind to grab a thick folder before returning to the woman. "So, you a crime reporter?"

"Um, not yet. I write for the Style Section, going on fifteen years," Valerie replied, "But I'm over it. It's all been reduced to sex tips and celebrity gossip. You know, the clickbait."

The rookie hummed in understanding, leaning towards the folder curiously. "So, you're here to fish for a real story?"

"Actually, I've already got one," Valerie announced instead, catching the officer by surprise. "Do you know anything about a bunch of robberies at five-star hotels?"

"Sorry, I don't."

"Well, a concierge at the Borden told me that two guests were beaten and robbed there in the last few weeks," Valerie filled in, "Now, neither victim want her to contact the police. When I went to other stations to look through the crime reports, I found three similar incidents in hotels around town."

"Is there a description of the attacker?"

"No, because none of the men gave one," Valerie informed. "But the cases have to be connected."

"Yeah, it sure seems like it," Ollie furrowed her brows. "You know, if that's the case, you don't want the case reports. You want the C.A.D. printouts. There's actually a lot more information there."

Valerie looked at the officer interestedly. "What are those?"

"Computer Aided Dispatch reports," another voice cut in. "Why are you volunteering to show her those?" Tim asked, walking over to the front desk.

"This is a reporter from the Herald," Ollie began, "and these are public-facing documents."

Valerie held a hand between her and the other officer. "Valerie Castillo." But Tim merely ignored her.

"They're only public-facing when asked for," he lectured his rookie.

Valerie picked up on his words and turned back to the cop behind the desk kindly. "Can I see the C.A.D. reports, please?"

Ollie glanced from the woman back to her T.O. expectedly. Tim sighed reluctantly. "Fine. Give 'em to her."

"Thank you." Valerie nodded at the rookie as she took the other thick folder from her. "Not a fan of the press?" she addressed the other officer.

Tim sneered. "Herald's got a bias against the police."

"No, we don't."

"It's implicit."

"Unlike your bias against me."

"Cute," Tim shot her a look, snapping his head to his rookie again. "You know, the media will say or do anything to get you to back up their headline. And make sure she gives you those printouts back," he added while striding away, "And get ready to roll. We're gonna hit the streets as soon as I change."

"Yes, sir," Ollie answered as her T.O. disappeared into the bullpen.

Valerie shook her head. "You shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

Ollie could only shrug in response. "Eh, don't really think I have a choice," she muttered, "He's my training officer, and that's just kind of his style."

"Well, being an ass isn't style," Valerie stated with a brief pause, "But he sure can wear a suit."

"Yeah, tell me about it..."

➤➤➤

"I'm telling you. Reporters always have an agenda," Tim was still lecturing her in the patrol car.

Ollie was still taking in his words half-heartedly. "To get the truth? That surely sounds awful."

"Don't be so naïve," Tim shot her a look, "All I'm saying is watch your back when dealing with the press."

"Mm. Right. I'll keep that in mind," Ollie mused back.

Tim rolled his eyes with a sigh. Why on god are you so infuriating?

"7-Adam-19, 415-fight. Manager versus customer in a physical. Multiple RPs. E&L Auto Body. 3905."

The rookie picked up the radio. "Copy that. En route, Code 3."

They pulled into an auto body shop shortly after. When they entered the shop, they found a manager still in a heated argument with a customer.

"Two-thousand. That's final."

"That's not what you quoted me! I'm not giving you a penny more than five hundred!"

"Two-thousand! No pay, no car! I keep!"

"Like hell you will," the customer snarled back, removing his backpack from his shoulder as the cops approached them. "Say hello to William Snakespeare, bitch!"

Tim drew out his gun at once. "Hey! Drop the snake! Drop it!"

But the customer was still waving the reptile in front of the manager to scare him.

"Drop the snake!"

Ollie winced out when the snake bit the customer in the face, leaving the man to wail in agony while the snake— slithered free.

"Oh, hell's sake—" The officers and the manager hurriedly hopped onto the back of the cars in the shop, losing sight of the snake. "Where did it go?"

"I don't know," Tim replied to her hastily before radioing in their situation.

The customer had collapsed on the floor and appeared to be gasping for air. Ollie called out to him. "Sir, just stay where you are. The ambulance is on its way."

"He's not gonna make it," Tim informed. "Animal control's ten minutes out. E.M.T.s won't step foot in here until that snake's been neutralised."

"Well, we can't just stay up here while he's dying!"

"Alright, we'll just flush it out in the open. I'll end it."

"You can't just kill it either!" Ollie shot him an appalled look.

Tim was glaring at her in exasperation. "What the hell are we supposed to do with it? Snuggle?" Ollie grumbled under her breath as she got down from the car; Tim snapped at her alarmingly. "Boot, don't be a hero. It's venomous."

"Here, snakey, snakey..."

Ollie cautiously worked her way to where she last saw the snake anyway, leaving her T.O. to scoff at her, although concernedly. She squatted down to peek under one of the cars in repair and found the reptile slithering right below it; it hissed back at her.

"Hey there, Snakespeare," she murmured, finding a pole and a stack of tyres nearby. She grabbed the pole and squatted down again, sliding one end of it slowly to reach the snake. She managed to hook the snake's body after some effort and pulled it out from under the car.

The snake hissed back louder when the rookie quickly deposited it inside the stacked tyres. She immediately picked up a metal sheet from the side and placed it covering the tyres, then added a big toolbox to hold the sheet down for good measure.

Tim and the manager finally got down of the cars, still staring at the rookie officer bewilderedly. "Control, advise fire and ambulance our scene is Code 4 — clear to enter," Tim radioed in, still glowering at his rookie. "That could've ended very badly."

Ollie simply shrugged. "True."

Tim shook his head displeasingly. "What even compelled you to even try that stunt?"

"I mean," Ollie scratched her forehead, "I've been buried alive by a serial killer. A snake is nothing."

Tim merely rolled his eyes at her words and turned to head back to their shop; the rookie followed quickly after him.

➤➤➤

Ollie stifled a yawn as she shouldered her bag. On her way out of the station, she stumbled upon Jackson, who had just arrived for his late shift. "Jacks!"

"Ollie!" Jackson yawned as well.

"Gosh, I feel like I haven't seen you in forever," Ollie huffed at him.

"That's because you haven't— Night shifts suck," Jackson groaned in response. "On top of that, my apartment is impossible to sleep in during the day. The sirens, construction, helicopters," he groaned again, "All so Lopez can have her wine country vacation."

"Ah, hang it there, Jacks," Ollie patted him on the back with a reassuring smile. "Just one more night of vampire ops."

Jackson slumped in tiredness. "Then five days off... and I'll relish every minute," he let out a long, heavy sigh, "Alright, Ollie, see you."

Ollie bid him goodbye before heading off. But just as she was doing so, she saw a familiar face from the same morning entering the station again. "Oh, hey, Valerie. You're back."

"Yes," Valerie grinned back at her, "To thank you for getting me those C.A.D. reports."

"Oh, no, anytime," the officer nodded. "Uh, so, did they help with your story?"

Valerie's expression brightened. "You're kidding me. It's even bigger than I thought," she shared excitedly. "You know, every one of those assault victims lives in town. Who gets a hotel room in the same city that you live in?"

Ollie raised a brow. "Men who are hooking up with sex workers?"

"Exactly," Valerie nodded. "I'm convinced it's a Murphy scam. You know, the rich guy meets an escort at the hotel—"

"—then gets beaten up and robbed by her accomplice but can't report it because then he'd be copping to his own crime."

Valerie beamed. "This was the story that I was looking for, and my editor said to run with it, and I couldn't have cracked it without you," she nodded at the officer. "So, I want to buy you a drink to say, you know, thank you."

"Oh," the rookie's face fell into a frown, "Uh, I don't think I should."

"Why? Because your training officer would disapprove?" Valerie cocked a brow at her.

"Uh, no. It's more like the whole police-receiving-gratuity thing that could lead to biasness or bribery or—"

"Okay, listen, listen," the woman cut the officer off solemnly. "You helped me, and I want to return the favour. So, any time I get any information on crimes, I can feed it to you, and you can make the arrests. How does that sound?"

Okay, I'd be lying if I didn't say even the thought of it is tempting. Ollie gave in. "Sounds great."

➤➤➤

Ollie received Valerie's message the very night. Interestedly, she got in her car and drove to the address given by the woman. Valerie already had a glass of red wine ready for her when she arrived.

But Ollie insisted on getting something lighter for herself.

Attended drinks already led her close to death; she had no want to learn what unattended drinks would lead her to.

"So, you've got a bunch of victims who aren't talking," Ollie suggested.

"Wrong," Valerie stated. "They're not talking to the police, but I got one of the guys to talk to me off the record this afternoon."

Ollie looked back at her interestedly. "And...?"

"It's exactly what I thought," Valerie smirked. "He hooked up with a woman online. They went to a hotel, they go upstairs, they get naked, then a guy walks in with a gun. He steals the guy's watch, money, phone, and then tells him, 'If you talk, your family's gonna get hurt'."

"That's great," Ollie muttered in surprise. "Uh, did you get a description?"

"Better— He gave me the woman," Valerie stated, nodding at a woman seated a distance from them, looking disinterested. "Now we're gonna catch her in the act."

Ollie stared uneasily at her drink with her jaws tightened. "Y-You lied to me."

"No. No, I didn't," Valerie opposed steadily. "I told you I was gonna help you, and this way, I was gonna get a killer story, and you were gonna get a high-profile arrest."

Ollie was still frozen in her seat, clutching onto her drink firmly, when she finally looked back up to Valerie again. But the other woman was staring ahead, tapping her arm urgently. The officer had to refrain from flinching away.

Breathe, Ollie, breathe.

"Holy crap— that's Alex Shaw!"

"And who the hell is Alex Shaw?"

"The huge movie producer," Valerie spared her a brief glance, "And his wife is super pregnant. This is suddenly a front-page story. This is amazing!" she exclaimed, but her expression suddenly faltered when she spotted the man leaving with the woman she had been spying on. "Oh, no, no, no, no. They're gonna leave. Let's go."

"What?"

"I booked the room right next to hers," Valerie informed hastily, already springing up from her seat. "Come on! Let's go, Ollie."

The rookie was not sure whether it was still her interest that compelled her to follow the woman, or the unspoken fear resided in her bones that was still in survival mode.

"Yeah, and I'm calling my T.O.," she breathed out, already reaching for her phone.

Valerie snapped her head to the cop. "Why?!"

"I need a senior officer here."

"No, you don't!" the woman scoffed, "He'll just steal the credit."

"Yeah, and you leading me here could already get me fired," Ollie bit back. "So, we either do this by the book, or I'm outta here."

The reporter finally caved with a huff. "Fine."

➤

Ollie paced anxiously by the door while Valerie had a glass by her ear pressed against the wall.

She heard the knock on the door, checked the peephole, and unlocked it at once. "Tim, thanks for coming," Ollie muttered, feeling as though a clinging weight on her shoulder rolled off at the sight of his scowl.

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Mm-hmm."

"If he punishes you in any way, I'll write a story about it," Valerie spoke up from the wall; Ollie rolled her eyes while Tim scoffed in response.

"You know that doesn't work," he noted, walking towards the other side of the room. "But there's an app for it."

Valerie perked up. "Really?"

"No," Tim deadpanned, glancing back at his rookie. "Shaw still in there with the escort?"

Ollie nodded. "Yeah, but there's no sign of her accomplice."

"Maybe he's not coming," Tim muttered, snapping back to the reporter with a raised voice. "Maybe he doesn't exist."

"He exists, okay?" Valerie shot back displeasingly, "And when he comes, he's gonna be armed and dangerous."

"If so, you'll be nowhere near the action," Tim concluded. Valerie gave the other cop a look, but Ollie had to side with her T.O. on that one, already trailing after him.

"Sir, I am so sor—"

"Save it, Boot. Not now," Tim cut her off, reaching for his radio. "7-Adam-19, requesting another unit to the Coldwater Hotel for a 647-B event. Contact me in the lobby."

"7-Adam-07, attach us to 7-Adam-19's event. Show us en route."

➤➤➤

Ollie was assigned peephole duty while they waited for backup to arrive.

"Tim, he's here," the rookie notified once she noticed a man walking past, cocking a gun, "And he's armed."

Ollie moved aside at once to let her T.O. take a look. "Dispatch, be advised, suspect at my location is armed with a handgun. White male, 6'2", black jacket, blue jeans," he turned back to his rookie, "Here we go. Alright, stay—" he frowned at the missing person in the room, "Where is she?"

Ollie gaped. "I don't know."

A sharp scream from the balcony sent them rushing over at once.

They found their missing individual hanging by the railing outside the balcony. Valerie was still shouting in fear as she dangled in the air.

"Hang on!" Tim howled, noticing the gunman in the next room fleeing. "Give me your hand! Let go of the phone!"

"No, no, no, no! I have a photo of Shaw i-in bed!" Valerie wailed.

Ollie snapped at her now, her tone harsh. "Drop your damn phone!"

The reporter finally did as told, releasing her phone down the building and grabbing onto the other officer's hand. Tim pulled her over the balcony back to safety. "Watch her," he instructed his rookie hastily before running out of the room, "7-Adam-19, in pursuit of the suspect, heading to the lobby."

Ollie flashed Valerie a disapproving look while the latter sat on the bed, still shaking.

"Ollie, I—"

"Not. A. Word."

➤➤➤

"Once you're satisfied with your written statement, just sign the bottom," Ollie muttered tonelessly.

Valerie signed her statement, still shaken up, and turned to the officer. "I am so sorry," she spoke, "Listen, I should have been straight with you from the beginning."

Ollie let out a sigh. "You took advantage of me because I'm a rookie," she pointed out, "You knew that a senior officer would never have let you get involved in a dangerous takedown."

"Yes, and it was very unfair of me," Valerie confessed. "But, listen, I've been stuck for so long. I needed this. To be taken seriously."

"And yet, when push came to shove, you went for the tabloid photo instead of the news story," Ollie stated, putting the signed statement into a file. "Good night, Valerie."

The woman nodded and got up from the chair at last. The rookie let out a tired grunt at the table by the bullpen, feeling crossed but also disturbed. She took a moment and shut her eyes, focusing on regulating her breathing while clearing her mind.

Of course, a voice had to interrupt her.

"You find it acceptable to sleep in the bullpen, now?"

Ollie's eyes snapped open at once, staring tiredly back at her T.O. "No," she mumbled, collecting the folder on the table while getting up from her seat.

"I do hope that you learn from your mistake today," Tim stated, but the rookie merely walked past him with a hastened pace. "Boot, you hear me?"

"Which mistake?" Ollie asked despairingly, spinning around to meet him again, "Trusting a reporter? Or getting tricked for drinks— only to be taken advantage of, again?"

She ticked uneasily when he just stood there, stunned, without a word.

He sighed ruefully when she hurried off, tensed, leaving him at a loss.