"He'll be joining you in two weeks at most. When there are no cases, you can move around the precinct freely. I think your daughter needs a mother, and this is a good opportunity."

Hawk took off his hat, rubbed his shiny bald head, and grinned at Harry. "Dean's right. Your old flames were thrilled to hear you're working over here. They even started a chat group and scheduled turns to meet up with you."

Harry's face, already dark, grew darker.

Before being recruited by Monet, he was a patrol officer here and had 'deep exchanges' with many of the lonely clerks—physical, not emotional.

Just the way of the world for people like them. Harry wasn't afraid of this. But his kidneys couldn't take it.

Fortunately, he later moved to the Detective Bureau. The most he had to do there was occasionally leverage his charms when he needed intel.

Now, he had returned to the precinct...

Harry could already see his dismal future.

He sighed. "Dean, alright. But if you want me to stay alive here, I need you to approve some funding for me."

"For what?"

"To buy deer antler liquor!"

Daisy, puzzled, said, "Harry, you're exaggerating. We're already at the precinct; just cut off those messy relationships."

Hawk said sympathetically, "Babe, it's not that simple. Harry's old flames are all well-known shrews in the precinct. They're all single, can't usually get a date, and they won't let Harry, this piece of fresh meat delivered to their door, slip away. The key is that these women know the law well and, having been involved with Harry, know how to harass him without breaking it. Unless Harry gets married, a strapping young man like him has no escape."

As he spoke, he revealed a lecherous smile. "Let me tell you a secret. When Harry first joined the precinct, he was lured into 'helping' by those middle-aged clerks, desperate for affection and not 'subtle' about it. He ended up being bullied terribly—and for a Black man, he's a rare handsome guy."

"This..."

Looking at Harry, who didn't refute anything, Daisy said sympathetically, "Okay, I've heard about some of the excessive stuff that goes on at the precinct, but I never imagined you'd be a victim."

The culture in the military and police forces of the United States was, in some ways, very similar. The Detective Bureau was better off, but at a crowded precinct, it was a complicated story.

Seeing his difficult-to-share secret blurted out by that bastard Hawk, Harry lifted his head and stared at the white ceiling, defiantly proclaiming, "You're all thinking too much. It was me who slept with them! And I'm not the same man I was before. I... I'll protect myself!"

Dean was rendered speechless.

What a mess!

...

Cases from Squad Four were previously routed to the precinct by the dispatch center. The precinct would then confirm the details before transferring suitable cases to the Detective Bureau. This was due to staffing shortages. Consequently, many of the Central Precinct's murder and robbery cases were actually transferred to surrounding districts.

Now, that was no longer necessary. At least, things wouldn't revert to how they were before, not unless Dean and his team became overwhelmed.

After moving to the precinct, they were busy from their very first day.

After arranging their office supplies, Dean was lounging in his comfortable office chair, reading a book.

The phone in Daisy's cubicle suddenly rang.

After hanging up, she popped her head out of her cubicle. "Dean, there's a report that someone's son has been shot dead. Patrol officers went to check the scene and found the victim's burned-out car..."

"Got it!"

Dean got up and stretched.

Finally, some action!

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