Adam Ruzek sat in the Intelligence Unit staring at Jack Stacy as though the rookie was some kind of unexplained phenomenon.
Jack was resting with his eyes closed while Adam counted events on his fingers and spoke to Jay Halstead beside him.
“Let me get this straight.
Jack has been a cop for less than a month and he’s already been involved in the Diaz case, an international gunrunning operation, that counterfeit-money ring and yesterday’s drug-smuggling case?”
“And his first-day shooting,” Jay added while cleaning his sidearm.
He had started respecting Jack’s ability himself.
Adam immediately threw up both hands and said most officers could work an entire career without seeing that many major cases.
His own father was close to retirement and still spent half his shift dealing with parking complaints.
Jack finally opened his eyes and was about to respond when Hank Voight appeared in his office doorway.
“Stacy.
Give your operational report to Ruzek and come see me.” Jack exchanged a puzzled look with Adam before getting up and heading into Hank’s office.
Hank waited until Jack shut the door before sliding a document across the desk.
It was a notice placing Jack on mandatory administrative leave for one week with a department-directed psychological evaluation.
Jack read it twice before looking up.
“A whole week?
Hank, I’m fine.”
Hank stared at him with the look of a man who had heard that sentence from too many cops.
“You’re talented.
Maybe the most promising rookie I’ve seen in years.
But you’ve been involved in one high-risk operation after another and you’ve shot and killed three armed suspects in less than a month.”
Jack gave him a faint smile.
“Couldn’t that mean I’m good at the job?”
“It means you need to make sure the job isn’t getting inside your head.” Hank leaned back in his chair.
“I’ve watched good cops convince themselves they were fine until they weren’t.
Then they start drinking too much, stop sleeping or make a mistake that gets somebody killed.”
Hank tapped the paperwork.
This wasn’t a punishment and it wasn’t a question of Jack’s ability.
After repeated critical incidents the department wanted him evaluated before he returned to full operational duty.
Jack looked at the referral information.
The evaluator was Dr.
Ivanka Anderson from Anderson Behavioral Health.
“You picked her?”
“I requested her.” Hank nodded.
“She works with command staff, officers involved in major trauma and some federal people.
Getting an appointment with her isn’t easy.”
Jack folded the notice and stood.
“Thanks, Sergeant.
I’ll go.”
Hank walked around the desk and gave his shoulder a firm pat.
“And during this week you stay away from cases.
Watch a Bulls game.
Go out with somebody.
Remember what being twenty-four feels like.” His expression hardened again before adding that Jack was not to participate in any operation until he received clearance.
When Jack stepped back into Intelligence Catherine immediately noticed the paper in his hand.
She took the notice and scanned it before looking at him.
“You should go.
Seriously.
Treat the week like a vacation instead of another assignment.” Jack only shrugged but didn’t argue.
The following morning Jack took an elevator to the forty-eighth floor of a high-rise on Michigan Avenue.
Anderson Behavioral Health looked less like a medical office and more like an expensive private gallery with polished stone floors, abstract paintings and a wide view toward Lake Michigan.
A receptionist checked his appointment and led him toward an office at the end of the hall.
“Officer Stacy, Dr.
Anderson is ready for you.” When the door opened Jack briefly wondered whether the room belonged to a psychologist or an art collector.
Floor-to-ceiling windows covered most of the walls and Lake Michigan filled the view beyond them.
A tall bookshelf held psychology texts, art books and several sculptures while comfortable sofas surrounded a low glass table.
A grand piano stood near one corner with sheet music resting on the stand.
Dr.
Ivanka Anderson stood near the window with her back to him.
She was around thirty with long blonde hair pinned neatly behind her head and wore a tailored navy suit.
When she turned Jack noticed sharp features, pale blue eyes and a calm expression that made it difficult to guess what she was thinking.
“Officer Jack Stacy.” Her voice carried a faint German accent.
“Please sit.
Coffee, tea or water?”
“Coffee works.”
Ivanka prepared two cups and sat across from him.
She didn’t open a notebook or immediately start asking clinical questions.
Instead she studied him for several seconds before saying Hank had described a young officer who had killed three armed suspects, saved multiple lives and walked away from scenes that would disturb most veterans.
“Hank thinks I’m too calm?” Jack asked.
“He thinks you might be too good at pretending to be calm.” Ivanka took a sip of coffee.
“There’s a difference.”
Jack leaned back.
“Maybe I adapt quickly.”
“Maybe.” Her gaze stayed on him.
“How did you sleep last night?”
That question landed harder than Jack expected.
When he had closed his eyes he kept seeing the warehouse and what had happened to Megan Benson.
“Fine.”
Ivanka smiled slightly.
“No.
You didn’t.”
Jack raised an eyebrow.
“You have fatigue around your eyes.
Your left index finger has a slight tremor and you’ve changed position several times since sitting down.” Ivanka rested her cup on the table.
“You also checked the door more than once.
Your body is still operating as though something might happen.”
Jack found himself genuinely surprised.
With Character Sketch Lv.1 he could perform similar observations but Ivanka was doing it through training and experience alone.
She seemed to notice his reaction as well.
“I’m a clinical psychologist and behavioral analyst, Jack.
Watching people is part of the job.” Her voice remained gentle.
“You look calm because you want to be calm.
That doesn’t mean your nervous system agrees with you yet.”
Jack didn’t answer immediately.
Ivanka leaned back and changed her approach.
“Here’s what I want.
Come back at two every afternoon this week.
We talk and I evaluate how you’re actually doing.
If you remain stable and I’m satisfied there are no serious concerns I’ll clear you for duty on Friday.”
“Why take that much time with me?”
“Because you’re interesting.” Ivanka smiled.
“I’ve worked with police officers, veterans and federal agents.
Some become numb.
Others start falling apart.
You’re somewhere in between and I want to understand why.”
Jack considered her offer before nodding.
“Deal.”
Over the next three days he found himself looking forward to the afternoon sessions more than expected.
Ivanka had been born in Germany and educated in London and New York before eventually settling in Chicago.
She held advanced degrees in clinical psychology and neuroscience and her clients ranged from executives and public officials to military veterans and law-enforcement officers.
Their conversations started with shootings and police work but rarely stayed there.
Ivanka gradually pushed Jack toward family, ambition and the reasons he chose dangerous work even when easier options existed.
Jack realized she could ask extremely personal questions without making them feel like an interrogation.
On the third afternoon she wore a black sweater and jeans instead of business clothes which made her look noticeably younger.
“Your father is a police officer too?”
“NYPD,” Jack replied.
“More than twenty years on the job.”
“And your mother?”
“A nurse in New York.”
Ivanka nodded before becoming quiet for a moment.
“My father was a businessman and my mother was an artist.
My family once tried to arrange a very convenient engagement for me with the son of a politically connected family.
He was ten years older than I was.”
Jack looked at her with surprise.
“I was twenty-one.” Ivanka smiled faintly.
“So I left.
I came to Chicago and built my own life.”
“Why tell me that?”
“Because trust works both ways.” Her expression softened.
“And because I think you understand choosing your own path even when your family believes they know what’s best for you.”
That evening Ivanka glanced at the time after their session ended.
“I’m starving.
There’s a new Italian place downtown that everyone keeps talking about.
Want to join me?”
Jack surprised himself by agreeing.
Dinner lasted nearly three hours.
They deliberately avoided police cases and psychological analysis while talking about travel, art, music and food instead.
Jack discovered that Ivanka was funny when she stopped being clinical and she knew far more about wine than anyone he had ever met.
She also spoke several languages and had traveled through much of Europe before settling in the United States.
By the time dinner ended Jack no longer felt as though he was sitting across from the intimidating behavioral analyst he had met three days earlier.
Ivanka invited him back to her apartment afterward to see her record collection.
She lived high above Lake Michigan in a modern apartment filled with minimalist furniture, paintings and shelves containing hundreds of vinyl records.
They spent another hour listening to jazz and talking before Jack finally stood to leave.
Ivanka caught his arm near the door.
“You can stay if you want.” Her confidence faded for the first time since they met.
“If you don’t want to then nothing changes.
But I wanted to ask.”
Jack looked at her for several seconds.
The last month of his life had been filled with shootings, bodies and people trying to kill him.
Standing there in the quiet apartment he realized how long it had been since he had allowed himself to want something that had nothing to do with police work.
He leaned down and kissed her.
Ivanka answered without hesitation.
The rest of the night belonged to the two of them rather than the department, the system or another case.
What happened between them was mutual and private and for several hours Jack finally stopped thinking about warehouses, dead suspects and gunfire.
It was after two in the morning before the apartment became quiet.