Chapter 6 - Voss Remembered My Mother Differently
Deputy Chief Voss called me into his office after lunch.
No Walter.
No Reed.
Just me.
He closed the door.
“You have talent.”
I sat.
“That usually comes before somebody tells me to stop talking.”
“It can.”
I waited.
Voss was sixty-one.
Polished.
The kind of officer academy brochures love because his uniform looked tailored even when it wasn't.
“Your mother was talented too.”
I stared.
“You knew her well?”
“Professionally.”
“What happened?”
He leaned back.
“Dana came here as a civilian contractor with strong ideas.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
“Jake.”
First name.
Everyone was trying that.
“She helped modernize the program.”
“And then?”
“She became convinced any adaptation she didn't personally approve was unsafe.”
That did not sound impossible.
My mother was not famous for flexibility.
“Was she wrong?”
“Sometimes.”
“What about the injured recruit?”
Voss’s face tightened.
“There were multiple contributing factors.”
“Did you change her technique?”
He looked at me.
“Who told you that?”
“Did you?”
“We changed many things.”
“Answer.”
“You are not conducting an interview.”
“No. You are.”
Voss almost smiled.
“Dana agreed to pilot the modified version.”
That stopped me.
“Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Reed didn't say that.”
“Thomas Reed has spent two decades regretting that his first report was inconclusive.”
“Was she in the room?”
“When?”
“The day the recruit got hurt.”
“Yes.”
“Did she teach the version that hurt him?”
“She participated in the block.”
Different answer.
I caught it.
“Did Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“Who was lead instructor?”
Voss paused.
“Me.”
There.
“What happened after?”
“Your mother quit.”
“Why?”
“Because the city would not accept her demand that the entire pilot stop until she could redesign it.”
“Was that unreasonable?”
“Depends whether you had two hundred officers due for recertification.”
I hated that the answer made institutional sense.
Voss leaned forward.
“Jake, your mother was not erased because police hated a civilian having a good idea.”
“Then why?”
“Because after the injury, everyone wanted distance.”
“From her.”
“From liability.”
There it was.
“And Walter?”
“Walter stayed.”
“Got promoted.”
“Yes.”
“His name replaced hers.”
“Eventually.”
“Convenient.”
Voss's face hardened.
“You are turning a twenty-two-year process into theft.”
“What should I call it?”
“A compromise that aged badly.”
That phrase sounded rehearsed.
“Did Walter steal credit?”
“No.”
“Did he correct people who gave it to him?”
Voss took too long.
“Not enough.”
Better.
Then:
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Thomas Reed is going to make your mother look cleaner than she was.”
“And you’re volunteering to do the opposite.”
“I’m telling you she had agency.”
I stood.
“So did Walter.”
“Yes.”
“So did you.”
Voss’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
First honest thing between us.
At the door I stopped.
“Did my mother know I was coming here?”
“Yes.”
“She never called you?”
“No.”
“Walter?”
“No.”
“Then why did Walter read my file?”
Voss looked away.
I caught it.
“What?”
“He asked me six weeks ago whether Dana’s son had applied.”
My hand stayed on the door.
“How did he know?”
Voss looked at me.
“Your mother called him.”
My chest tightened.
“She told him I was coming.”
“Yes.”
“And neither of them told me.”
Voss nodded.
When I left, Walter was standing at the end of the hallway.
He had heard enough to know.
I walked toward him.
“You spoke to my mother.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“What did she say?”
Walter’s face stayed controlled.
“She asked me not to treat you differently.”
I laughed.
“Did that include not mentioning you knew each other?”
“She told me that was her decision.”
“And you agreed.”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“That seems to be how this whole thing works.”
May you like
Walter did not defend himself.
That was somehow worse.
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