Behavioral Science Services

Chapter 23

by Bridgid

So this is what it felt like. Days passed and it seemed as if Lonnie grew more
and more content with staying home. Even making love to her was somehow different, more relaxed and tender. Bud wasn't sure it sat all together well with him. It made her just like every other broad he'd ever known. The only difference was...he loved her. The old dog learned a new trick.
She rested her head on his belly, watching the fine hairs around his navel bend with every breath she blew out. They stiffened up and stood straight when she slipped her hand down to hold on to his cock Lonnie liked the feel of it when the first pulse of blood jetted through his veins to make it thicken. He was in that place between, not yet stiff.

"You better not be teasing me," Bud rumbled as he spread his legs slightly.

"Uh uh. You know I'll take good care of you, baby." She stroked him lightly, toying with him as if he were a brand new can of pink play-dough.

"Fuck, okay?"

"Fuck, okay."

He rolled to lie on top of her but in second thought he lay on his side and pulled her leg over his hip. He handled her as if she were made of fine crystal, entering her gently, kissing and touching her all while they made love. His release came with a series of deep breaths and a slow guttural moan.

"Baby, that was nice." She cupped his face and kissed his mouth.

"Yeah," he replied. "Lon, we can get married this week if you want to. It'll only take a few minutes at the courthouse. We'll go for the license this morning and I'll get one of the judges to do it."

"Yeah, that'd be fine. I have to go in with you today anyway. Have to see the department shrink. It's part of my probation."

"You want me to go with you? I'll take a few hours off."

"Naw, Bud, its okay. I'll be fine. I'll get the bus home."

"Okay. C'mon, get up."

He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to confess to one of those cop psychologists. He was never ordered to go and he never asked even when some of the other cops did. He figured they were looking for an excuse to nab a few days off. The brass wouldn't want to break him anyway. They preferred him being a little off kilter. He did what they asked without question and that's the way they wanted it to stay.

Lonnie seemed complacent about getting the marriage license. It was as if it really didn't matter to her, she was just doing it because he asked. She was carrying his kid after all and why make it tough on the little tyke? At least he or she would have two names on the birth certificate.
"What's your name, sir?" The clerk asked of Bud and he answered as if he didn't want anyone to hear.

"White, Wendell A."

The clerk looked down her nose through her bifocal lens and typed it in. "And yours Miss?"

"Brannigan, Avalon G," she didn't say hers any too loud either.

Bud grinned and squeezed her hand. "You're first name is Avalon, as in Frankie?"

"What of it? I know it's a stupid name but I'm stuck with it."

"What's your middle name?"

"What's yours?"

"Fair enough. Let's name the kid something normal okay, Lon?"

"Okay. Anything but Bob. Bob White sounds like a bird."

"What if it's a girl?"

"We still won't name her Bob," she frowned.

At least they got a few laughs in this morning. The rest of the day may not be so pleasant. They got their license work done and he took her right to the BSS office.

"You'll be alright, baby?"

"If they make my head smaller, maybe my tits will look bigger."

"All the better for me and junior," Bud huffed and laughed lightly. The word 'junior' came out without a second thought. He wondered if his dad ever felt that way about him, like he was a part of him. Maybe he should make an appointment with BSS, behavioral science services, just to get his ducks in order before he officially got the title of 'dad'.

The thoughts would haunt the rest of his day and the reality of the next few months began to sink in slow. He had no idea what to expect and he wasn't close enough with any of the other officers who had kids to ask. Maybe he'd call on Coffee later. Lonnie might like it if he checked up on her old partner anyway.

She'd have her own cross to bear that day. The psychologist was a woman by the name of Phyllis Glaser. Lonnie didn't like talking to women much to begin with so the evaluation started off on the wrong foot.

"Sit down, Miss Brannigan. Mind if I call you Lonnie?" the short stocky shrink asked. She had a gruff way about her but her smile was warm enough. The woman was in her mid-fifties and she'd probably heard it all by now.

"Lonnie will be fine," she replied as she sat in the button adorned leather chair. She crossed then uncrossed her legs making her nerves evident.

"Do you feel okay, Lonnie?"

"I'm fine."

"You look uncomfortable."

"Well, I'm nuts. That's why I'm here. Wouldn't you feel a little weird?"

"You're not nuts, Lonnie. You may be suffering from a little compassion fatigue or PTSD but it's common with cops who come from a family of cops. I understand your father was on the job?"

"Yeah, but he died."

"At work?"

"Yup. Killed in the line of duty."

"How do you feel about that?"

"That's the stupidest fucking question I've ever heard. How would you feel if someone blew your daddy's brains out? Happy? Full of Joy? Listen, it was a long time ago. I've healed."

Phyllis didn't say anything to her right off but she wrote a few things on her note pad.

"Are you afraid the same thing will happen to you?"

"Not in the fucking least."

"Someone you love then?"

That shut her up. Lonnie looked down at her feet and she clasped her hands together. Her right leg twitched and she shifted in her seat to stop it.

"Listen to me. You don't have to talk if you don't want to but believe me, I understand. The families of officers suffer just as much stress as the officers do. You've got a double edged sword to carry. You have the vicarious stress of family working in the department, yes I know about your relationship with Officer White. You've also got to deal with unpredictable shift work, fear of death, injury, kidnapping, isolation, low pay. I don't usually talk this much to a new client but your case is an exception. You see, my father was a cop too. He wasn't killed in the line of duty, he took his own life."

"Maybe you need the evaluation. I feel worse than I did when I came in here."

"Good. It's progress. I'm not a conventional psychologist, Lonnie. Most just sit back and let the officer talk but I don't do that. I want to show you that you're not unique by any means. Almost everyone in the department has a slide but with support they come back stronger than ever. You've just been through a critical incident. A fellow officer was killed and a finger was pointed your way. It's my job to convince you that it was not your fault."

"Tell that to the asshole commissioner."

"One of the biggest problems in most police departments is lack of support from the department. You can't choke them anymore, Lonnie, and you sure can't choke them with your hands tied. Police work, by its very nature, calls for an incredible amount of restraint. Continual restraint. Draining restraint. It is stressful. Top that off with the stupidity of the general public and you'd have to wonder why anyone wants to be a cop. Why did you choose the job?"

"That's easy. To kill the cocksucker who killed my father, figuratively. Why did you become a shrink?"

Phyllis smiled at her. "Same reason as you in a way. To stop officers from killing themselves like my father did. I have often marveled at how police officers whose careers are centered on helping others, have so much trouble accepting help. On the other hand, I have also marveled at the difficult jobs the officers I have worked with have undertaken and succeeded at. Your record is exceptional, Lonnie."

"I fucked up."

"I read the report. You didn't mess up and I need you to understand that. Tell me how you feel about the man who held you hostage."

Once again Lonnie shifted in her chair. Should she be honest? Why not, this woman was spilling her guts so quid pro quo. "I want him dead. If I could put a bullet in his head and get away with it I would. Dealing with him has ruined my career."

"You're career is not over. You're on suspension with pay. That means they expect you back to work as soon as you feel better."

"It may take another seven months. I'm pregnant as well."

"I read it in your initial evaluation. Does being a parent end everything? You could work part time after the child is born if you wanted."

"Yeah, and hope my...our kid doesn't become an orphan."

"I want you to do something. I want you to go over to the jail and ask to see this man, what's his name? Nordstrom. I want you to go tell him exactly how you feel. Get it off your chest."

"You can't be serious."

"I am serious. You can go right from here. I'll give the warden a call and set up a visit. Of course he'll have to agree to it but I don't think he'll decline. My guess is he'll have the need to talk to you too."
Lonnie sat back in the chair and she planted her feet firmly on the floor. She seemed to be mulling it around for a moment or two.

"Okay. I'll face him. I do have a few things that I'd like to say to him. Maybe it will help straighten me out."

Phyllis nodded her approval. She got on the phone immediately and made the arrangements. She and Lonnie talked for another ten minutes before the call came back from the prison that confirmed Nordstrom would see her.

"You're on your way then. I'll see you next week at the same time." Phyllis handed Lonnie a card and ended the session. It was obvious that the cop was nervous but her demeanor seemed somewhat lighter. Of course she never brought up the subject of what happened with the perp in the park.

A short time later Lonnie Brannigan stood in front of the main doors into the jail waiting to be buzzed in. She was met by a uniformed guard who took her to an interrogation room. Normally a visitor wouldn't be allowed any physical contact with a prisoner but seeing as how she was a cop, an exception was made. It was requested by BSS and the warden allowed it.

She sat at a table waiting for him to be brought in. The sights and sounds in the jail disturbed her a bit. It had a unique scent filled with metal, cement with an odd touch of something that reminded her of a hospital. Disinfectant maybe. She could hear the sound of metal bars clanging and footsteps approaching. Taking a long blink, he was standing in front of her when she opened her eyes and the guard pushed him down in the chair across the table from her.

"Well, officer, this is a nice surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Its not like the warden would tell him her shrink suggested the visit.

"I'm here to tell you something."

"I'm all ears," he cocked a smug grin.

"It's quite simple but I have a question for you first. How did you know I was undercover?"

He placed his cuffed hands up on the table and twisted them to clasp his fingers. "It was a guess on my part. If you're asking me if you were the catalyst, I'll tell you no. I thought you were genuine."

"Why did you kill the cop on the street?"

He grinned wryly. "Because your face was too pretty to mess up and I didn't like his uniform."

He could have easily killed Bud instead of the boy in blue. It's not the first time a uniform cost a cop his life. She felt hate seethe up for this killer, this ugly man who sold children as sex toys.

"You don't deserve to breathe the same air as me," she spat.

"I made a deal. I won't get the death penalty."

"You figure?" She cocked a brow and leaned in closer to him. It made the guard who was observing suspicious and he tolerated it for just a few moments, but that was all Lonnie needed to get her point across to Nordstrom.

The guard ended the session. Nordstrom was visibly upset when the guard took him back to his cell. Something transpired between the off duty cop and the prisoner, but fuck knows what.

Lonnie arrived home about an hour before Bud did. She settled herself in and when he walked in the door she was happily grilling some burgers for supper.

"Hey, baby. How was your day?" It was getting to be a routine question for her to ask.

"Same old," he replied. "You're cooking? Smells good. How'd your day go, everything okay with BSS?"

"Yeah, it wasn't bad. Sit, I'll get supper on for you."

He took his jacket off and plopped down at the kitchen table. Lonnie felt a twinge of jealousy seeing him there with his gun and badge on. Damn it she missed her job but other things colored her life right now. She caught Bud sizing her up and she shot him a quizzical look.

"I'm not going to show for a couple of months if that's what you're looking for."

Bud shook his head. "There's something different about you. I can't seem to put my fucking finger on it."

"Maybe I'm glowing," she smiled sweetly as she placed a plate in front of him. She made one for herself before sitting across from him.

"I got a judge who's gonna marry us on Friday, got the day off. Maybe we'll go away for the weekend. Vegas or something."

"Okay. That's nice, baby." Just as she was about to pour some dressing on her salad, the phone rang. She started to rise but he stopped her.

"I'll get it." He moved off to the living room to take the call. Lonnie could hear him talking low but she detected something in his voice, distress maybe. He stopped to take his gun off before he returned.

"What was that all about?" she queried.

"It was from HQ, about Nordstrom." He gazed across the table at her in a peculiar way. "They found him dead in his cell."

Lonnie didn't blink an eye. She continued on as if nothing were amiss at all. "Too bad, no great loss. Would you like some ketchup, honey?"

 

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