I accepted.
The appointment was approved, credentials were prepared, and my first official workday was scheduled for Monday.
The department-wide announcement would take place at eight that morning.
The traffic stop occurred late Sunday afternoon.
I hadn't intended to spend the weekend thinking about police work.
My younger sister, Camille, was participating in a charity fashion and arts event at a community center in a neighboring city. She had spent months helping organize it, and she made me promise to attend without arriving dressed like I was about to interview a witness.
"One afternoon," she told me over the telephone. "No gray suits. No work badge. No investigator face."
I laughed.
"What's an investigator face?"
"The one you're making right now."
She couldn't see me, but she was probably correct.
Camille loved fashion. She worked with young designers and used community events to raise money for arts scholarships. She wanted me to enjoy one afternoon without thinking about police records, misconduct reports, or someone else's failure to follow procedure.
So I wore something she selected.
A fitted charcoal-gray structured bodice with a modest neckline, a cropped white jacket, a layered white skirt, and metallic sandals. My hair was parted neatly and gathered into a low bun.
It was more fashionable than what I usually wore.
Camille declared it a success the moment she saw me.
"See? You look like somebody who knows how to have fun."
I laughed.
"Don't get carried away."
We spent several hours together.
I watched the student designers present their work, spoke with families, bought a small painting from a young artist, and helped Camille pack decorations after the event.
For a while, I forgot about the department.
Then my phone rang.
It was Sheriff Whitaker.
She apologized for calling on a Sunday.
There was a question concerning the final appointment paperwork, and she wanted to confirm that my credentials had been delivered.
I told her they were in my handbag.
She sounded relieved.
"Good. Tomorrow morning may be uncomfortable."
I looked toward the emptying community center.
"Why?"
"Some of the senior people still think the appointment should have gone to someone from patrol."
I wasn't surprised.
"That's their right."
She sighed.
"They'll have to respect the structure, whether they like it or not."
I looked toward Camille, who was laughing with another volunteer near the entrance.
Then I said, "Sheriff, I'm not coming in to embarrass officers."
"I know."
"I'm coming in to make sure complaints are investigated fairly."
She was quiet.
Then answered, "That's what I need."