7- Adam-19

Between Lines and Loyalties

The heat that Thursday afternoon was oppressive, and the Los Angeles asphalt seemed to melt beneath the wheels of 7-Adam-19. Lucy rested her head lightly against the window, watching the city rush past. The streets buzzed — street vendors, honking horns, shouting voices, and bicycles weaving dangerously between cars.

Tim, behind the wheel, remained sharply focused. The radio was on low volume, but they both knew peace was always temporary.

— Been getting enough sleep? — he asked suddenly, eyes still on the road.

Lucy blinked, surprised. Not the kind of question she expected from him.

— More or less... — she answered, trying to hide a yawn. — I've been reading shift reports at night. Trying to keep up.

Tim made a short sound in his throat — a grunt that could've meant either disapproval or acknowledgment.

— Just don't burn yourself out. Fatigue gets officers killed.

Before she could reply, the radio crackled with a new call:

— 7-Adam-19, possible theft in progress at the Eastlake Community Center. Suspect seen fleeing through the rear. Cameras show suspicious activity inside.

— 7-Adam-19 en route, — Tim answered, turning the wheel with precision.

They arrived within minutes. The community center was modest, its walls covered in colorful murals painted by neighborhood kids. The main entrance was intact, but a side door had been forced open. A nervous staff member waited for them at the front.

— We were storing new computers for the after-school program. They came in last night. I just stepped out for coffee, and when I got back, the door was busted open.

Tim glanced at Lucy and nodded — tactical mode, silent approach. They moved down the side hallway, guns drawn, steps steady and controlled. Inside, the space was dark, the blinds closed, letting in only slivers of light.

At the far end of the main room, they heard a faint sound. Tim raised a fist, signaling pause. The noise came again — a quick creak, like something metallic being shifted.

They advanced together.

The suspect was cornered among boxes and school supplies. A teenager — no older than fifteen — with a backpack on his shoulders and a laptop in hand. He froze when he saw them, eyes wide.

— Put that down, — Tim ordered, voice firm.

The boy hesitated, then slowly placed the laptop on the ground, raising his hands.

Lucy approached carefully as Tim patted him down. The kid was trembling, his breathing shallow and uneven.

— Judging by your backpack, this isn't the first time you've taken something from here, — Tim said.

The boy didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the floor, like he didn't want to be seen.

Lucy crouched down beside him. — What's your name?

— Elias.

— Elias... Why this place?

He hesitated a long moment before murmuring:

— Because there... there are no cameras in the back. And I knew no one would be here at night. I... I was gonna return it. I just needed to learn... study on my own. My mom works nights, and my brother won't let me use the computer at home.

Lucy glanced at Tim. It was rare to see doubt in his eyes, but for a brief moment, it was there. Still, he kept his posture rigid.

— Theft is theft. And you forced entry.

— Yeah... I know, — Elias said, looking at them, eyes pleading. — But no one believes me. No one ever believes me.

Silence.

Tim stood and stepped away. Lucy lingered a few seconds longer, then placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder.

— We'll figure this out. But you have to cooperate.

Back in the car, with the boy now in the back seat, Lucy broke the silence:

— We could talk to the center's director. Maybe we can find a solution that doesn't just end with a record.

Tim sighed, gripping the steering wheel.

— You think everything can be solved with words and empathy?

— No. But sometimes, it's enough to keep someone from going completely off track.

He turned slightly toward her, as if he wanted to say something, but looked back at the road.

— You're too good for this job, Chen.

— Or maybe that's exactly why I'm doing it, — she replied without hesitation.

Later, at the precinct, after filing the report and arranging a meeting between Elias and the center director, Lucy sat by the lockers — tired, but with the feeling that she'd done something right.

Tim passed by her, made as if to keep walking, but stopped.

— The kid? He's not gonna forget this anytime soon.

— Neither will I, — she said, offering a small smile.

— Good call today.

And with that, he walked off.

Lucy remained there, staring at the wall ahead of her, those words echoing in her mind.

Good call.

Little by little, she was letting him see. Not just that she was capable — but that she had something to bring. That she was different, yes, but valuable. And in the tough world of the LAPD, that was worth gold.