Story code: ST-000225
Part 2: The Dispatch Call
Chloe’s fingers desperately scraped against the bottom seam of the canvas messenger bag. She pushed aside a kneaded rubber eraser and a heavy tube of titanium white oil paint. Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her father snapped his fingers again, the sound sharp as a firecracker in the cold, exhaust-choked night air.
“Chloe. The badge,” Arthur repeated, his voice vibrating with the absolute certainty of a man who believed his sacrifice had purchased an unbreakable shield for his family.
She slowly withdrew her hand. Her fingers were empty, coated only in a fine, faint dusting of charcoal powder. She wiped them quickly on the thigh of her jeans, her throat tightening until it felt like she was breathing through a straw.
“I… I don’t have it,” Chloe stammered, the lie tasting like bitter ash on her tongue. “We had a rigorous surgical skills lab today. Strict sterile protocol. I had to leave my lanyard in my locker.”
Arthur’s outstretched hand wavered. A deep furrow appeared between his brows, a visible crack forming in his rigid armor. He recovered in a fraction of a second, whipping his head back to Officer Miller. “She works eighty hours a week! She is in the surgical ward saving lives! You do not need a piece of plastic to see her authority.”
Officer Miller let out a low, scraping chuckle. He uncrossed his arms and rested a heavy hand on his utility belt, right next to his handcuffs. “Right. Sure she is. And I’m the Chief of Medicine. Look, buddy, your kid doesn’t have ID, you don’t have a case, and I’m rapidly losing my patience.”
Behind the officer, a sleek, black Lincoln Town Car glided to a halt at the curb, its heavy tires crunching over the shattered glass of the Lin Family Cleaners’ destroyed front window. The drunk driver perked up, a sloppy grin spreading across his flushed face. He tossed his half-empty water bottle onto the sidewalk, where it rolled through the glowing red-and-blue reflections of the police cruisers.
“That’s my ride,” the driver slurred, patting Miller on the shoulder as he staggered past. “Appreciate the stellar service, officer. Send the property damage bill to my dad’s office.”
“Have a safe night, Mr. Vance,” Miller said, his tone dripping with practiced deference.
Arthur watched the exchange, his eyes widening. The man who had just destroyed his livelihood, who had turned thirty years of hard work into crushed brick and twisted metal, was getting into a luxury sedan to go sleep in a penthouse.
“No!” Arthur roared. He lunged forward, sidestepping Officer Miller, and threw his slight frame between the drunk driver and the open rear door of the Town Car. He slammed his calloused hands onto the glossy black roof of the vehicle. “You do not leave! You destroyed my store! You destroyed my life!”
Miller moved with terrifying speed. The officer grabbed Arthur by the shoulder, spinning him around with enough force that Arthur stumbled over his own feet. Miller wrenched Arthur’s arm behind his back, the heavy metallic click of handcuffs suddenly echoing above the hiss of the dying Porsche engine.
“Dad!” Chloe screamed. She dropped her messenger bag. The heavy thud of her sketchbooks and wooden palettes hitting the pavement was swallowed by the chaos, the canvas flap thankfully remaining shut to hide the evidence of her double life.
“I gave you a lawful order to step back and lower your voice,” Miller barked, pressing his thick forearm against Arthur’s collarbone. He pinned the older man against the sleek side of the Town Car. “Now you’re assaulting a citizen and obstructing an investigation. You want to spend the night in central booking, old man?”
Arthur gasped, his face pressed against the cold metal of the car window. His eyes were wide with humiliation and terror, his chest heaving. Yet, even pinned and helpless, he locked his gaze on Chloe. The desperate, pleading look in his eyes wasn’t asking her to save him from jail; it was demanding she use her societal status to save their dignity. He still believed that she held the untouchable power of a physician.
“Stop!” Chloe stepped into the officer’s personal space, her hands raised in surrender. “Let him go! I can prove it. I can pull up my Mount Sinai student portal right now. Just let him go.”
Miller paused, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at her paint-splattered clothes. He didn’t release his grip on Arthur, but the pressure lessened slightly. “The medical portal, huh?”
“Yes,” Chloe lied, her voice shaking violently. “My digital ID. It has my photo, my matriculation number. Everything.”
She plunged her hand into her pocket and pulled out her smartphone. Her thumb hovered over the screen. She knew exactly what awaited her if she opened that mobile browser. Three weeks ago, she had officially ignored the final warning email from the university registrar. If she logged in, the screen would display a bright, undeniable red banner: STATUS – WITHDRAWN. NO ACTIVE AFFILIATION.
It would prove to the officer that she was a liar. Worse, it would prove to her father that his daughter wasn’t a surgeon in training, but a dropout who secretly spent her tuition money on canvas and studio space while he pressed strangers’ shirts for pennies.
“Well? We’re waiting, Doc,” Miller taunted, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.
Chloe unlocked her phone. The backlight illuminated her pale, terrified face. She tapped the browser icon, her mind scrambling for a technical excuse. The Wi-Fi is down. The server is undergoing maintenance. I forgot my dual-authentication password. She needed something, anything, to buy time.
Before the page could load, Miller shifted his weight. “You know what? Never mind your little website. Anyone can photoshop a webpage.” He reached up to his shoulder strap and unclipped his heavy police radio. “My partner’s brother works night security dispatch at Sinai. We’ll just do this the official way. If you’re really a med student, they’ll have your credentials in the main registry.”
Chloe’s blood ran cold, an icy dread paralyzing her limbs.
Miller pressed the button on his radio. “Dispatch, this is Unit 4. I need a quick 10-28 verify on a civilian claiming medical personnel status at Mount Sinai. Name is Lin. L-I-N.”
He released the button and stared at Chloe. His gaze was hard and uncompromising. “What’s your first name and date of birth, sweetheart?”
Arthur squirmed against the luxury car, his breathing ragged but his voice full of fierce pride. “Tell him, Chloe. Tell him exactly who you are.”