Chapter 32
Jeff sat across from Dr. Fitzgerald, feeling like he was on the verge of losing his shit. He wanted to scream.
“So, getting back to this anger within you, Jeff. Do you think you pose a risk to yourself or others on the job? Why did you hit that civilian?”
Jeff thought about Mr. BMW. He had really wanted to hurt the asshole but instead, he had only hit him in the face. The guy hadn’t even been hurt that badly. Sure, his nose had bled, but that was it. It wasn’t even broken. Jeff hadn’t even cracked any of the veneers. He’d actually show a lot of restraint.
But what would happen next time?
Self-honesty was a slippery slope. The way he was feeling—whatever this thing was—could very well push him over the edge next time. What if he really did hurt someone?
His insides were strung as tight as a pulled rubber band, and he felt like he was drowning in his own black goo. It seemed like the goo was slowly filling him up until it would encompass him fully, making him an evil bastard.
But he couldn’t tell the shrink this. How did he explain the evil that lived within him without making himself sound certifiable? And if this shrink deemed him certifiable, he would take him off duty.
“You know he will most likely sue the department,” Dr. Fitzgerald said.
Jeff had always been a team player, and he expected as much from those he worked with. If one of his coworkers had done what he had, he would have been angry. It surprised him how much he didn’t care what others thought or what happened next.
Jeff shrugged. “The guy was a d-bag.”
“And why is that? You pulled him over for speeding. Why did you need to hit him? The dashboard camera in your car showed no aggression on his part. In fact, you were the agitated one, and I think that’s what we need to get down to the core of. Why? What’s going on in the life of the officer who has a perfect record, one who has been praised over and over again? Is there more to this than we’ve discussed? Is there more than your wife leaving you? Has a drug or alcohol problem started?”
Jeff shrugged and looked out the small office window. He saw nothing but the wall of the building next door and thought what a perfect metaphor it all was. He definitely had a wall up in front of him, one that wouldn’t move, or even just budge a little bit and allow him to get on with his life.
And its name was Sara.
Anger and sadness ripped through him, feeding the beast within. How would he ever find relief?
“Jeff, if you’re not going to talk to me, then I have only one choice.”
Jeff shifted his gaze to the good doctor and imagined taking the pen from his hand and stabbing him in the eye. “And what’s that?”
“I’m going to have to remove you from duty until we have a better grasp of what’s going on with you.”
Jeff looked back at the wall. What would he do without his job? He’d be cooped up in his apartment all day with nothing but memories of Sara for company. His job was the only thing that kept him sane. He was afraid of what would happen to him if he couldn’t work. It wasn’t an option.
“I think it’s best for everyone involved if I remove you from duty effective immediately. We’ll need you to turn in your gun tomorrow.”
Jeff sighed and silently cursed.
Dammit.
Goddammit.