I was email conversing with Tara, when an incident from my past came up. I decided to make it into a story. Only I already have two stories I'm working on. Oh, well. I'll have a grand time anyway. Consider this to be the second in the Hero du Jour series.
I still don't own them. Kind of glad, actually. What a responsibility. No infringement intended, I make no money. I mean no harm. Please don't sue.
Hero du Jour - Rafe
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He hated when he was late. It was embarrassing when the teacher would make a snide comment about his tardiness. Right there in front of the class. Good thing he wasn't in uniform any more. He'd have found some way to make sure that teacher got a few tickets. Or not. He wasn't really a vindictive man. He couldn't help it when he had to work a little late and couldn't get to class exactly on time. At least his grades were good. He studied hard. Much to the teacher's disgust.
"Late again, Mr. Rafe?" A pompous voice. Self-important.
He tried not to answer.
"Mr. Rafe? Aren't you going to tell us why you're late, again?"
"I had to work over a little."
"Oh, really? Doing what?" The class was silent. The man was a petty tyrant and no one wanted to do anything that might draw his wrath to themselves. Unfortunately, he was also a genius. Making anyone who got a decent grade in his class a power to be reckoned with when a prospective employer looked at their transcripts.
"I was booking a child-molester." He answered softly. Taking his seat and opening his notebook and text. Waiting for the next attack. There was utter silence. No one looked at him, The teacher, for one of the rare times in his career, was speechless.
"I beg your pardon?" Sputtering and red faced with disbelief.
Rafe looked up calmly. Wondering, once again, if a college degree was really worth all this trouble. He sighed in frustration. "I said, I was booking a child-molester. You know, a criminal?" There was a titter from somewhere in the classroom, immediately stifled. "I'm a cop." There. Now everyone knew. So much for anonymity.
"Oh." Was the weak reply. There was at least another minute of silence before he continued his lecture.
After class, he made his way to his car, not in the least surprised when none of his classmates spoke to him. He was permanently an outcast from the moment he announced he was a cop, and he knew it. It hurt, but he wasn't going to let it stop him. He was here for an education, not to make friends. But it still hurt.
Fortunately, from that point on, his tardiness was overlooked by the teacher. Too bad the damage had already been done. He still worked hard for his grades. Harder than most of the class. On top of his job. He struggled with his term paper, but managed to get it done, even though the rest of the class worked together and shared ideas and notes. He wasn't welcome, and he didn't press. He was grateful that none of these students were in either of his other classes. Or he'd have been in a world of hurt. He sighed with relief at the end of the semester and he had the summer off from school.
He debated going back. He loved his job. But he wanted that degree, too. Finally, he enrolled for the three classes he needed for that semester. Three, three unit classes. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights. Three hours each. Six to nine. Maybe this semester would be better. He hoped so. If it turned out as bad as the previous one, he was seriously considering quitting, for good. Being a pariah was not his idea of how to further his education.
The classes were a little easier, this term. At least as far as the teachers were concerned. He was glad that they didn't seem to care when he was a few minutes late. He didn't see any of his classmates from that fateful class, and was glad.
Friday night. After class. He'd been invited to join several classmates at the local pub for a few beers. He agreed. He drank soft drinks instead of beer, but thoroughly enjoyed the discussion. It became a fairly regular habit. Only when he had to pull the graveyard shift on a stakeout, or when he had to work on the Saturday, did he miss the get togethers.
There was this girl in two of his classes, Wednesdays and Fridays. She sat next to him in both. They even flirted a little. But she was involved with someone, so he didn't ask her out. But she came to the Friday night get-togethers, and they had a good time. It was just past mid-terms. He'd drawn the graveyard slot on a stakeout for a drug dealer for the past two weeks. He was tired. But he still made every class. Once the bust took place, he was able to go to the Friday night discussions again. He'd missed three weeks. The girl from his class, Donna, welcomed him back with a kiss. He looked at her in surprise.
"Thanks. What was that for?"
"For just being a nice guy. Welcome back." She smiled. Friendly. He smiled back.
The change was subtle. First, the friendly kiss when he started joining the Friday Night group again. Then he noticed her looking over her shoulder every once in a while. Then, she started jumping at every little noise. It was nearly time for finals, and she was coming apart at the seams. He finally asked her what was wrong one Friday, as he gave her a ride to the pub.
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She tried to brush it off.
"No. It's not nothing. What's bothering you? I've been watching you get more and more strung out, you're nervous, you don't smile any more. You keep jumping at every little noise. You're scared of something. Please, tell me. Maybe I can help."
"You can't help. No one can."
"Donna, I thought we were friends. Please. Let me try and help you." He reached across and picked up her hand. "Please?"
She looked at him for the longest time. They were parked outside the pub. Most of the group already inside. Finally, after examining his face intently for several minutes, she sighed.
"I've got to talk to somebody. It's my boyfriend. Well, my ex-boyfriend. I came home early one night and he...he had someone there with him. I...I threw him out. That was just before midterms. Now, he's been following me, calling me at all hours of the night. I'm scared. I'm afraid he's going to do something to me." She didn't cry. Just trembled a little. She didn't look at him. Just watched out the window.
"OK. I can help you. Do you want to press charges against him? Stalking is a crime, you know. A misdemeanor, but still a crime. We can get a restraining order..."
"No. I...I just want him to leave me alone." She finally looked at him, with a faint, sad, little smile. "See? I told you that you couldn't help."
"Maybe I can. What's his name, and what does he look like?" Pulling out a notepad and a pen.
"Tommy Richards. He's about six feet tall, blond, blue eyes. ... Oh, I have a picture." She rummaged in her purse, found her pocketbook and opened it to a group photo. She pointed to the picture of a good looking young man who had his arms wrapped around her and a possessive grin on his face.
"OK. Where's he live?"
"I don't know." She watched him taking notes, "Do you really think you can help me?"
"Yeah." He smiled at her. Can I borrow this picture? I'll give it back to you on Wednesday, in class."
"Sure. If you think it will help."
"It will. Tell me, does he hang around your apartment?"
"Oh, yeah. Every Friday. There he is across the street from my place, watching me. It's really creepy."
"OK. I guess I won't be taking you home tonight, then. I wouldn't want to set him off. Will you be all right?"
"Well, I have been so far." She smiled at him and impulsively gave him a hug. "Thanks, Brian. For listening."
He smiled. "Hey, I plan on doing a little more than listen. Just keep an eye out and be careful."
"I will."
And with that, they joined their other friends in the pub.
"Jim? Could I ask you a favor?" He was the newest member of Major Crimes, and still didn't feel quite up to par with the rest of them.
Jim looked up. "Sure, Rafe. What's up?"
"Well, there's this girl I know, just a friend, you know?"
"Uh huh." No. I don't know. But he wasn't about to ask, either.
"Well, her ex-boyfriend has been stalking her, and she..."
"Hold it. She wants us to arrest him, right?"
"Uh, no. She just wants him to leave her alone. She caught him with someone else when she came home from school one day. She kicked him out, and now he's stalking her, but she's afraid to press charges. I checked up on him, and his family has a lot of money and political connections. I can see why she doesn't want this to go any farther, but she's scared."
"What do you want from me?"
"Ideas?"
"OK. First question are you or do you want to be involved with this woman?"
"She's a friend. That's all. We...we have a couple of classes together."
If Jim hadn't been a Sentinel, he would never have been able to hear that last sentence.
"Classes? What kind of classes?"
"She's in my Psych class and my Sociology class."
Jim looked at him in surprise. "How long have you been taking classes?" And why didn't anybody know about it? But he didn't voice that question.
"I've got another fifteen units for my BA. Psychology Major, with a minor in Criminology. Thirty units for the double degree. Another two years, at the rate I'm going, but it's worth it." He spoke softly, as though afraid someone might hear and laugh at him.
"Hey, that's great. Congratulations. So, what do you want to do?"
"Find out some way to make him leave her alone."
"Sounds simple." Jim grinned.
It really was pretty simple. Or at least, it should have been.
Wednesday night. Rafe returned the photo as promised. Smiling. "I've got a friend, well, one of the guys I work with, who's going to help me convince Mr. Richards to turn his attentions elsewhere."
"Oh, that's wonderful Brian. I don't know how to thank you."
"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"
He walked her to her car after class. Then he followed her home, just to make sure she was safe. There was no sign of Tommy Richards, but he walked her to her door, anyway.
On Friday, they followed the usual routine after class. He again followed her home. He instantly spotted Tommy, standing across the street, watching. He parked next to her car, and escorted her to her door. He didn't go inside.
Going back to his car, he noticed that Tommy seemed to have left. Suddenly nervous, he glanced around, suspicious. He spotted movement in some bushes by the entrance to the complex. He moved cautiously toward the disturbance to investigate.
There were three of them. Tommy was unconscious and bleeding while the three drug-crazed muggers rifled his pockets, looking for anything of value. Rafe pulled his gun, wishing he'd been able to call for backup. Taking up a position which offered scant cover, he called out to the men.
"Cascade Police. Put your hands up and clasp them behind your head. On your knees, now! I can shoot you before any of you can get away. Do it!"
The three men thought about running, but the sound of a round being jacked into the chamber changed their minds, and they complied with his instructions. Fortunately, he had some clamp ties to augment his handcuffs. He subdued and placed the three men under arrest, reading them their rights, then he pulled out his cell phone and called for help. By the time a patrol car had arrived, he'd checked Tommy Richards out, and held him when he regained consciousness, whimpering in the pain of his broken ribs.
"Take it easy. I'm a cop. Help's on the way. Just try to relax." He watched him, wondering what he should do. "You're pretty lucky. These guys could have killed you, you know?"
"Yeah. Thanks." He looked up and his expression changed to one of confusion. "You came home with Donna."
"Sort of. Seems her ex-boyfriend's been stalking her, and she's afraid he's going to hurt her. So I followed her home, just to make sure that she got home safely." Not saying one word about knowing that he was the stalker in question.
"What are you going to do to him?"
"Well, I thought of beating him to a pulp, but, as a cop, I can't really do stuff like that. It would mean my job. I thought I'd try and talk to him, explain that he was scaring Donna and that his bringing someone else to her place when she wasn't there was a pretty crummy thing to do. Don't you think?"
Tommy looked up at him. "You could have just driven off. No one would have known."
"I would have known. Besides, these guys had committed a felony, that's a whole lot worse than a misdemeanor stalking charge. Just doing my job." They just stared at each other until the patrol units arrived, along with an ambulance and paramedics.
"Tell Donna...tell her I'm sorry. I won't bother her again. And...thanks." Tommy spoke softly. Oddly grateful for the rescue from a man who had no reason to bare him any good will.
"You're welcome. I'll tell her." Rafe stayed with him until the paramedics loaded him in the ambulance to take him to the hospital and care for his bruised and broken ribs.
When the scene had cleared, and everyone else had gone, he made his way back upstairs to Donna's apartment. She was well aware that something had happened, the lights and sirens had been obvious. When he knocked, she asked who was there and he told her. She opened the door.
"What happened? What did you do to him?" Looking closely at him for any injury.
He smiled, tired. "Funny thing, I don't think he'll bother you any more." Seeing the fear on her face he hurried on, "Oh, no. I didn't do anything to him. After I left, I noticed he wasn't across the street any more. I was worried, so I looked around for him. In case he had any ideas about coming after you? I saw some movement in the bushes out front and went to investigate. It was those three muggers that we've been trying to catch for the past year. I...I guess you might not know about that, though, huh?" He paused for a moment. "Anyway, they'd attacked Mr. Richards, and I was just in time to catch them. He's probably got some cracked or broken ribs. Painful, but no permanent damage. Waiting for help, we had a chance to talk." She moved back into her apartment, inviting him in. He followed.
"Talk." Uncertain. "Would you like some coffee? A soda, maybe?"
"No, thanks. Yeah. We talked." She sat down on the sofa, he sat at the other end from her, watching her for any signs of distress. "He said to tell you he was sorry, and that he wouldn't bother you any more."
"That sounds too simple." She smiled, hesitantly.
"Well, I mentioned that you were being stalked by your ex-boyfriend and that I had thought about beating him up. Without telling him I knew who he was. I told him what he did was crummy, and he wanted to know why I didn't let the muggers finish."
"Why didn't you?" Softly, curious.
His eyes widened in surprise. "I couldn't do that."
With a puzzled frown, she asked, "Why not?"
Realizing that she didn't know, he dreaded telling her. Taking a deep breath to give himself the courage, he took the plunge, fully expecting that their friendship was over. "I'm a cop. A detective, actually. It's against everything I believe." He didn't look at her, not wanting to see the rejection.
"Oh. That explains a lot. Like how you knew something was wrong. Why you immediately thought about legal options to deal with the problem." She chuckled dryly. "I thought you might be a law student, or work for a lawyer." She smiled at him. "I guess I was wrong, wasn't I." She touched his hand, "Thank you. For making me tell you. For everything." She slid over close to him and leaned close to kiss him.
It was a nice kiss. The kiss of a friend. His hands came up of their own volition to cup her face. When she started to pull back, he immediately released her. His pleased surprise showing on his face. He had to clear his throat before he could get his voice to work. "Y...you're welcome." He smiled at her. Pleased that his confession hadn't destroyed their friendship. He stood. "Well, I'd better be getting home, now. I'll see you Wednesday?"
"Of course." She stood to follow him to the door. They smiled at one another at the door, then he swiftly bent down and kissed her again, lightly, before turning to leave.
"Let me know if he gives you any more trouble, OK?"
"I promise." She watched him all the way to his car, where he turned to look at her and wave, smiling. She waved back and closed her door, locking it, as was her habit.
"Our final story tonight involves the capture of a group of muggers that has been plaguing the campus commons area for the past year. They had just attacked their latest victim, when off duty Detective Brian Rafe, who was escorting a friend home from the university, noticed the altercation and stepped in to stop it. The three muggers gave up without a fight, even though Detective Rafe had not been able to call for assistance until after subduing the three men. His quick actions and concern for others have resulted in yet another danger being removed from our streets. His dedication and willingness to go the extra mile have earned him the gratitude of all of us here. Thank you, Detective, for helping to make our streets safer, even when you were off duty.
The End
My own case wasn't nearly as dramatic. Yeah, a guy I dated once stalked me for a couple of months afterwards. I wasn't really afraid of him, it just made me nervous. Like when someone stares at you. I'd come out of my flat, and there he'd be, diagonally across the street, on the corner, watching. Gave me the creeps. I guess it was affecting me more than I realized, because one of the guys in my firearms class asked me why I was so nervous. I told him about the guy (Gee, I can't even remember his name). He followed me back to campus and had me point him out. The fool was standing on the corner, as usual. (My apartment was a short block and around the corner from the college.) I guess whatever the guys from class did worked. I never saw the creep again. But then, three large burly cop-type men would tend to intimidate most people, anyway. Good thing, too. With a broken hand, I managed to qualify on the firing range. Modified Combat Course, a 268 and a 273 out of 300. Not bad for someone who had never handled a handgun in her life prior to the class. J