Chapter 11: Pattern Recognition
Monday, May 21, 2018 - Mid-Wilshire Station, Detective Division
I shouldn't have been in the detective division. Rookies stayed in patrol areas—briefing room, bullpen, locker room. But Lopez had sent me to deliver paperwork, and I took the long route past the bulletin boards.
The cold case wall stopped me. Faces, timelines, evidence photos. Unsolved robberies, assaults, a few homicides. Each one represented someone who'd never gotten justice.
One case caught my attention. Commercial robbery from six months back—jewelry store, daylight, three suspects, clean getaway. The evidence photo showed recovered items from a fence operation two weeks after the crime. Not the main haul, just scraps.
Something tickled at my memory.
My recall activated automatically, pulling files from the past month. Hundreds of calls, thousands of details, all stored with perfect clarity. Domestic disturbance, three weeks ago. The husband's defensive body language when we'd entered. His wife's nervous energy when—
"He's been selling things. Family heirlooms, he says. I don't know where he got them."
The jewelry description matched. The pawn shop he'd mentioned was three blocks from the robbed store.
Lopez walked past. "Mercer? You lost?"
"This robbery." I pointed at the cold case board. "Six months ago. I think I know where some of the jewelry went."
She stopped. "Explain."
"Domestic call three weeks back. Subject mentioned pawning jewelry that matches the description here. Said they were family heirlooms, but the details line up—ruby necklace, gold bracelet with specific engraving."
Lopez studied the board, then me. "You remember details from a call three weeks ago?"
"I have a good memory."
"Mercer." She crossed her arms. "Nobody has a memory that good. But let's say you're right. We'll check it out."
Detective Sarah Murphy's Office
Detective Murphy was mid-forties, sharp eyes, twenty years on the job. She listened to my explanation without interrupting, then pulled the original case file.
"The recovered items list includes this bracelet. Engraving matches what you just described." She looked up. "How did you remember this from a random domestic call?"
"I just... notice details?"
"Officer Lopez, you've been riding with him. Is he always like this?"
Lopez leaned against the doorframe. "Mercer has exceptional recall. Photographic memory, maybe. It's been useful."
Murphy picked up her phone. "Let me make some calls."
Two hours later, the husband from the domestic call was in custody. The jewelry matched. He'd been a fence for the robbery crew, kept pieces he was supposed to move, got greedy.
Cold case closed.
Angela Lopez's POV
Murphy walked us out after processing the arrest. "Good work, Officers. Mercer, that was impressive detective work."
"Just remembered something, ma'am."
"Nobody 'just remembers' details from three weeks ago that solve a six-month cold case." She handed me her card. "Officer Mercer, you've got instincts. When you hit your two-year mark, come talk to me about detective track."
Mercer took the card, looking uncomfortable with the praise.
We walked back to the bullpen. "You're making a habit of this," I said.
"Making a habit of what?"
"Being unnaturally good at police work." I stopped him before we reached the locker room. "That memory of yours—is it photographic?"
"I don't know. I just remember things."
"Everything?"
His jaw tightened. "More than I'd like."
There was pain in that admission. The kid remembered every trauma, every lie, every bad call. Perfect recall sounded useful until you realized it meant carrying every nightmare with crystal clarity.
"For what it's worth," I said, "you're doing good work. Don't let it eat you alive."
Tuesday, May 22, 2018 - Sergeant Grey's Office
Grey sat behind his desk, fingers steepled. The summons had come during lunch. Everyone knew what it meant when Grey called you in alone—either you'd screwed up badly or something unusual had happened.
"Officer Mercer. Sit."
I sat.
"Detective Murphy speaks highly of you. Cold case solved through exceptional memory and observation." He leaned forward. "That's good police work. But you've been here five weeks. In that time, you've had more successful outcomes than some officers manage in a year. Murphy's already asking about fast-tracking you to detective. Captain Andersen's impressed. Even Bradford admits you're competent."
"Sir, I'm just—"
"Let me finish." The eyebrow rose. "You're still a boot. You have months of training ahead. Don't let early success make you cocky. Cocky cops make mistakes. Mistakes get people killed."
"Yes, sir."
"That said." Grey sat back. "Keep doing what you're doing. Whatever it is. The results speak for themselves."
"Sir, about the memory thing—"
"I don't need explanations. I need good police work. You're providing that." He shuffled papers on his desk. "Dismissed."
I stood, paused at the door. "Sir? Thank you."
"For what?"
"For not pushing about how I do what I do."
Grey's expression softened fractionally. "Everyone's got something, Mercer. Some people read micro-expressions. Some have perfect tactical awareness. You've got memory. Use it well. That's all that matters."
Wednesday Evening, May 23, 2018 - Locker Room
Tim was there when I arrived for end-of-shift. Lucy had already left. Jackson was in the shower. Just Tim and me.
"Heard about the cold case," he said.
"News travels fast."
"Murphy won't shut up about it. 'Best rookie instincts she's seen in years.'" He closed his locker. "You keep pulling rabbits out of hats, Mercer."
"Just good memory."
"Nobody's memory is that good." He studied me with that cop evaluation stare. "Eventually people will want to know how the trick works."
The words landed heavy. Not threatening. Warning.
"No trick, sir. Just pay attention."
"Uh-huh." Tim grabbed his bag. "Whatever you're doing, keep doing it. But watch yourself. Success makes enemies. Especially the kind of success that looks impossible."
He left me alone with the warning echoing off tile walls.
Armstrong's dirty. Grey's watching. Murphy wants to fast-track me. Tim knows I'm hiding something.
I opened my encrypted file that night and added notes. Not just about Armstrong anymore. About station dynamics, about who noticed what, about managing expectations while using powers that shouldn't exist.
The recall captured everything. The lie detection flagged deceptions. The danger sense warned of threats. But none of them told me how to navigate the politics of being too good too fast.
That, I'd have to figure out myself.
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