Finlay Donovan Jumps the Gun (Finlay Donovan, #3)(26)
Vero’s laugh was dubious.
“We’ll try not to,” I assured him. His warm brown eyes crinkled with his smile, and I could see why Charlie’s absence had been so hard for Nick.
Charlie pointed to the next checkin station. “Take your luggage to the uniformed officer and set your bags on the table to be searched so we can get you to class.”
“Searched?” I asked.
“Students aren’t permitted to bring personal firearms or weapons of any kind, and no alcohol or illegal drugs are allowed inside the facility. That’s why we opted for the buses,” he said, gesturing to the empty charter bus behind us. “Otherwise, the gate becomes a revolving door after classes let out every afternoon. It’s easier on the staff if we only have to search everyone once.” He pointed to a second set of tables. “After your bags are checked, pick up your welcome packets and name tags. Inside, you’ll find your room keys, your schedule, a map of the campus, and your health and safety waivers. Sign your waivers, take your bags to your dorm, change into comfortable workout attire, and report promptly to the drill field. Leave your cell phones in your room.” He checked his watch. “Your first session starts in twenty-two minutes. You might want to hustle, ladies. It’s a push-up for every minute you’re late.”
Vero and I turned to find we were last in line. We grabbed our Rollaboards and dragged them across the pavement. Once we were through inspections, we followed the last of the stragglers to the dormitory, hefting our luggage up the two flights of stairs to the third floor.
Vero unlocked our room and flung open the door.
“This is it?” She dropped her bags at the foot of one of the metal-framed beds. The springs creaked as she tested the thin plastic mattress with her foot. A single pillow had been issued to each of us, along with a blanket and a set of starchy white sheets. But what I noticed most was what the room didn’t have … no demanding toddlers or diapers to be changed, no dishes to wash or laundry to sort, no pushy ex-husbands, no demanding agents, and, best of all, no dead people. Maybe this week wouldn’t be so bad after all.
I collapsed face-first onto the bed, wondering how long they might let us stay. “You think they were serious about the push-ups?” I asked.
Vero pulled back the blind and looked toward the drill field. “We’d better get changed. I don’t want to find out.”
* * *
We shed our jeans and boots, trading them for yoga pants and sneakers. Bundled in hats and gloves, we drew our lanyards on over our sweatshirts and hurried to the drill field. Nick’s eyes lifted to mine as Vero and I caught up to the group. His subtle grin was only slightly reassuring as I looked past him and spotted Joey staring at me over crossed arms. Charlie glanced at his watch and gave us a discreet thumbs-up.
“Good morning, everyone.” Nick spoke into a bullhorn, projecting his voice over the throng of students. “Welcome to citizen’s police academy. I’m Detective Nicholas Anthony, your academy coordinator and an investigator in the Organized Crime and Narcotics division of the Fairfax County Police Department.” A few excited titters rose from the group. I looked around me at the disproportionate ratio of women to men, certain I recognized some of the mothers from Delia’s preschool among them.
“Your instructors this week are all current or former law enforcement professionals, all of them experts in their fields,” he continued. “Please feel free to ask questions. The goal of this program is to help give you a taste of what it’s like to be a police officer, so throughout the week, you will have opportunities to participate in some hands-on training.” A woman in front of me let out a wolf whistle. A handful of others whooped, prompting laughter from the group. Nick’s grin was indulgent behind his megaphone. “These exercises will require your undivided attention, so for your safety, we ask that you do not bring your cell phones to class.” Nick waited for the chorus of groans to quiet. “Since you are not here in a professional capacity, you may sit out and observe any exercises that you wish. If you choose to participate, we will be awarding points to the top performers, and certificates will be presented to the winners on the final night of our program.”
“What do we get if we win?” Vero called out.
“Bragging rights,” Nick replied. “And the admiration of your instructors.” A few of the instructors chuckled. Tyrese winked at her.
“I can live with that,” Vero said, raising a playful eyebrow back.
Nick’s cane clicked as he paced the front of our group. “We’re going to start our training today by demonstrating the intense physical examinations new recruits are subject to before being considered for admission to the police academy. You will be completing the agility course with a partner,” he said, pointing to the arranged orange cones behind him. “Learning to work with a partner is a critical part of what we do. Partnership is about trust and teamwork. A great partner can make or break a case, but they can also save your life in the field.” Nick’s eyes flitted to mine. Joey stared a hole through me over Nick’s shoulder. I had the uneasy feeling he’d been watching me all morning, and I was liking it less and less. “You and your partner will be carrying a life-size dummy through a portion of the course. The dummy weighs one hundred and fifty pounds, so those of you with physical restrictions who wish to sit out the agility course may do so—”