Mayor Kim sat at the center table.
Relief crossed her face as Brandon entered the room.
A local pastor said an opening prayer and led the pledge of allegiance. This was followed by public comments. Landowners complaining about utilities. A young mother worried about drug activity on her street. Brandon made a note to follow up with the woman about her concerns.
The final public comment was from an older gentleman claiming that it was a violation of the separation of church and state to have a pastor pray before each meeting.
“Mr. Galbraith,” the mayor said, “as we do every meeting, we’ll make note of your concern.”
“Thank you,” he said into the microphone. “And God bless you.”
Imagine that.
The director of public works gave an update on plans to repave Forks Avenue. After that, there was a brief presentation on the new math curriculum at the high school. Brandon had always had a hard time staying awake in math class. By the sound of it, the new curriculum was just as boring.
“Thank you, Principal Hastings,” Mayor Kim said. “And now our new Chief of Police Brandon Mattson will share his vision for the department. And, I’m sure, he’ll have lots to say about how the department will ensure a safe Moonbeam Festival.”
Her eyes landed on Brandon for the briefest moment. “Just a reminder to everyone, the festival is in nine short days.”
Brandon approached the microphone.
“Thank you, mayor.”
“Chief Mattson,” one of the council members interrupted him. The man was in his early fifties, wearing a tan suit jacket and forest green tie. He looked familiar—maybe a local insurance agent? “We want to express our gratitude for your willingness to accept the Chief of Police—”
“Thank you—”
“And I think I speak for all of us when I say how blessed this community is to have your family, not to mention your brother Eli who gave his life for the citizens of this town in the line of duty—”
“Thank—”
“And that’s why we want to take this moment to announce our plans to unveil a monument to Eli Mattson, to be a permanent fixture at Tilicum Park.”
The council member leaned back from his microphone.
Brandon stared at the man for probably way too long.
“Great. Thank you.”
The five council members and Mayor Kim waited for Brandon to say more.
“And, ah, my family is grateful for your gratitude.”
Grateful for your gratitude?
Brandon never had a problem with surprises while working a beat or solving a homicide. But for them to expect him to stand up here and talk about Eli without any preparation—why didn’t the mayor give him a head’s up? How many of these schmucks were prepared to discuss a loved one they’d lost? In front of a bunch of strangers.
It was a public meeting, not a group therapy session.
“Let’s move on to Chief Mattson’s presentation,” Mayor Kim said.
Brandon explained that he didn’t have a presentation, but he did have plenty to say about his plans for policing the community now that the department would be, through contract with the Sheriff, covering a wider area.
He went into detail about his staffing patterns and that, after replacing Will, he’d be hiring another officer in the coming year. Just to throw the mayor a bone, he highlighted the importance of the upcoming Moonbeam Festival and told the council he was in ongoing discussions with the mayor about details of his safety plan for the event.
Everything he said was accurate, if a little inflated in order to fill up his time on the agenda. He’d done a good job pivoting from the uncomfortable conversation about Eli.
“Are there any questions for Chief Mattson?” the mayor asked, surveying the room.
“I do.”
Brandon turned as Ted, the reporter from the Forks Journal Extra, stood.
Brandon took a deep breath, forced himself not to shake his head in disgust. This guy was a parasite. He’d already gotten info from inside the department, most likely from Nolan. Now he was hounding Brandon publicly.
“Any updates on the murder investigation, chief?” Ted asked.
“Not at this time,” Brandon answered.
“How can we know your department is doing enough to ensure the safety of this community?”
“That’s my job.”
“How can you do your job without one of your most experienced officers?” Ted asked, clearly referring to Nolan.
Brandon wouldn’t take the bait.
“Officer discipline is an internal matter.”
Ted smirked. “Chief, is it true you’re dating Officer Nolan’s ex-girlfriend?”
Ex-girlfriend? The last Brandon heard, Misty was still with Nolan.
Brandon tried to ignore the collective gasp from the crowd at Ted’s obvious accusation.
“No. I’m single, Ted. And as bad as your investigation skills are, I’m sure as hell glad you’re not working for me.”
The room erupted in laughter.
Ted’s face burned red, but he continued. “Still, Chief—”
“Ted,” Mayor Kim interrupted.
“I have a few more questions—”
“That’s enough,” she said, eyes boring into the recalcitrant reporter.
Ted stood for a few seconds before sinking back into his seat.
“Thank you, chief. That will be all. Up next we have a report from Sally Metzger on the city’s efforts to increase recycling.”
Brandon eyed Ted on his way to the exit, but Ted pretended to be writing in his notebook. It was probably for the better. One sour glance from Brandon and it would be all over the papers that Brandon had threatened Ted.
Where did he come off, asking Brandon about his personal life? Who the hell cared if he dated Misty?
Outside, Brandon loosened his tie and the top button on his shirt. The truth was, no matter where you lived, people cared about dumb crap like who was dating who, especially if it involved men or women in leadership.
He thought about Ted and his prying into Brandon’s relationships. Brandon could deal with local gossip about himself, as long as they left Emma alone.
The moment Ted’s scribblings began to affect his family—Brandon would take matters into his own hands, Chief of Police or not.
Back in the office, he texted Emma and she said she planned on hanging out with a girl she’d met in town. Having pizza at her house. That took care of dinner, and he should be relieved that she’d found a friend. She was getting older. He’d have to learn to trust her more, even if he considered the rest of the society a potential risk to his daughter.
Will and Jackson arrived at the office at about the same time, fifteen minutes before Jackson’s interview. Brandon kept the process formal, considering Will’s previous comment about Brandon’s bias against Steve Chilton, the only other interviewee. Then there was the accusation by Ted at the council meeting. No doubt someone would weave Brandon’s supposed relationship with Misty into his decision to hire Jackson.
She’d done great, answered every question thoroughly and professionally. She had more experience than Chilton, despite her hiatus to raise her young children. Jackson had even been a detective, an important skill in a small town that didn’t have the budget to hire a proper detective team.
“How’d you score her?” Brandon asked Will after Jackson had left.
“Fifty-seven.”
“That’s higher than you scored the other guy,” Brandon said.
Will slid his chair back, clasped his hands behind his head. “Yep.”
“So, you won’t give me any crap about hiring Jackson?”
“Nope.”
“You sure? I need you on this, Will. People trust you.”
“She’s got my vote, hands down.”
That’s all he needed to hear.
“Thanks, Will. I’ll send out an email after I let her know.”
She was already an employee, s
o that meant a lot less paperwork, too.
“Can I go home now?” Will asked. “I got two steaks and a bottle of pinot with my name on it waiting for me. I might even share with my wife.”
Brandon chuckled. “Get out of here.”
Brandon had just finished making the offer to a very ecstatic Jackson when his phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.
“This is Brandon.”
“Chief, this is Josiah Trent.”
“Josiah. Aren’t you on duty?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why are you calling me on my private cell phone?”
And how did he get that number?
“Your daughter, Emma—”
“What about her? Josiah—”
“She’s fine, chief. I’m taking her home now. I wanted to give you a heads up.”
Brandon grabbed his keys and headed for the parking lot.
“Keep talking.”
“We had a noise complaint,” Josiah said.
“This early? It’s barely eight.”
What did this have to do with Emma?
“It was pretty loud. Lots of yelling and um…”
“Get to the point, Josiah.”
“Alcohol.”
“You’re telling me my daughter was drinking?”
“No. She was not, as far as I can tell. I didn’t do a breathalyzer or anything like that.” Josiah paused. “You want me to take her home, right? Not down to the office.”
“Yes. Home. Tell her I’ll be there soon,” he said.
“10-4.”
“Wait,” Brandon said.
“Yeah?”
“Who were these people she was with?”
“That’s the interesting thing…”
Not what Brandon wanted to hear.
“That kid Justin and his girlfriend.”
“Her name is Brooke,” Brandon said. “How many people?”
“About nine or ten. Not counting your daughter, I mean. They were all over twenty-one.”
“Thanks Josiah. And not a word of this—”
“I wouldn’t do that—”
“Not even to Nolan. Do you understand my meaning, Josiah?”
There was a pause. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter 26
Josiah and Emma were waiting on the porch when he arrived.
Brandon dismissed Josiah and followed Emma into the house.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Emma glanced at her bedroom door.
Brandon pointed toward the kitchen. “In there, now.”
Emma sat down at the table, her eyes fixed on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Are you aware that one of the men…and I mean men…because those were all adults…at that party is a suspect in a murder investigation?”
“Who?” she asked.
“His name is Justin.”
“Him? He seemed really nice.”
“You think every murderer looks and acts mean—”
“No.”
“How much alcohol did you drink?” Brandon asked, slipping all-too-easily into interrogation mode.
“None.”
“Yet you were surrounded by alcohol for—what—how many hours?”
“They had just started drinking,” she said.
“And you had none?”
Tears welled in Emma’s eyes.
“No. Why don’t you believe me?”
“Let’s see, a fifteen-year-old at a party—”
“And all teens are drunks, right?”
He wouldn’t let her turn this back around on him.
“Not what I said.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“After tonight? No.”
His words hung in the air, but in the meantime, he had a chance to gather his thoughts, let his heart rate slow.
“Why were you there?”
“I was in line at the grocery store and some girl started talking to me. Asked me if I was new to town and she said she was too. Her name was Brooke.”
Brandon pressed a thumb into his temple. He glanced at the top of the fridge. He was out of ibuprofen.
“You told me to make friends,” she said.
“Justin and Brooke are adults. If they want to drink, that’s their choice. You, on the other hand are a child.”
“I’m not a child—”
“Fine. You’re a minor.”
“Why did the police have to come, anyway?”
“That’s what happens when people play loud music, create a disturbance, and generally act like idiots.”
“It wasn’t that bad—”
“It was that bad,” Brandon said. “and I could arrest the whole group of them for offering booze to a minor.”
“They never offered me anything,” Emma said. “They just wanted to hang out.”
What happened to the smart, sassy and very un-gullible daughter he’d raised? Justin was a pothead loser, and Brooke, well, he questioned her judgement for being with someone like Justin. Neither of them was the kind of person he wanted his daughter around.
“I thought you were smarter than this,” Brandon said.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You want the truth? I was trying to help.”
“Help with what?”
“The murder investigation,” she said.
“Oh, no. Don’t even go there. My daughter is not getting involved—”
“You said you thought I was smart. Now I’m too stupid to stay out of trouble?”
Technically, she’d just proven that by getting picked up by the police.
“What were you hoping to do? Get a confession?”
“What if I did?” she asked.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you learn anything besides the fact that Justin and Brooke drink and smoke pot?”
She stared back at him, defiant.
“Tomorrow you’re going back to grandpa’s.”
She crossed her arms. “Fine with me. It’s boring around here, anyway.”
“You’re saying you want to go back to Seattle?”
“You can be such a jerk sometimes.” She stood. “Can I go to my room now?”
“Yes.”
She stopped at the doorway.
“I put the furniture together,” she said, sniffling.
Brandon glanced into the living room.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Emma said, and the way she slowly closed the door broke his heart. He wanted to be mad at her, but the truth was he was afraid. She’d gotten mixed up with some of the last people to see Lauren Sandoval alive.
Emma spent Thursday at her grandpa’s house, saying hardly a word from the time she woke up until Brandon dropped her off. When Brandon picked her up that evening, she was a little more talkative, granting him a few words in response to his attempts at conversation.
Had he overreacted? It was his job to keep her safe. Maybe he should have said it differently, but that didn’t mean he was wrong. He was reminded of Tori’s words to him during one of their many arguments. Sometimes, being right isn’t the point. It’s the relationship that matters.
But didn’t he have a good relationship with Emma?
Emma had begged Brandon to let her come live with him.
He wouldn’t take that for granted, though. Kids grow up and at some point, they stop giving you the benefit of the doubt.
Brandon took time at dinner to apologize for the way he’d confronted her, admitted he could have said things differently. He even told Emma he trusted her.
Her response was a grunt and a head nod. She’d come around, eventually.
He hoped.
Friday morning Nolan was waiting for Brandon outside his office. It was Nolan’s first day back from leave.
“Chief.”
“Nolan,” Brandon said, sweeping past him.
“You got a sec?” Nolan asked.
“Have a seat,” Brandon said. He glan
ced toward the hallway. “Should I close the door?”
Nolan shrugged his shoulders and sat down. Apparently, he didn’t care if others in the department overheard the conversation.
“You hired Jackson instead of Steve Chilton?”
Nolan had just returned from three days without pay and the first thing he wanted was to gripe and moan about who Brandon brought onboard to replace Will?
“You need to get over whatever it is you have against Jackson,” Brandon said, thumbing through the pile of mail on his desk.
“It’s not what I have against her. Steve is way more qualified.”
“Actually, he’s not.”
“I disagree,” Nolan said. He leaned forward, edging his chair closer to Brandon’s desk. “But since you brought it up. I do have concerns about Jackson. The way she froze—”
“We’re not covering this again,” Brandon said. “It’s over.”
Nolan’s chair shot back as he stood.
“You made the wrong decision.”
It had been less than five minutes and Brandon already wanted to can Nolan. He really didn’t like the officer—for good reason. He’d put others at risk, and, if Brandon was right, leaked info about the murder investigation.
“I’m beginning to think I made the wrong decision about letting you come back to work.”
Nolan scoffed. “I’ve been here ten years.”
“And I can end that at any time.”
Nolan started to speak but thought better of it.
“You’re covering west precinct today,” Brandon said.
The west area was mostly farmland, sparsely populated even by Forks standards. To Brandon, the further away Nolan was from town and his friends in the press, the better.
When Nolan had gone, Brandon picked up his office phone.
He should call Sheriff Hart—maybe he’d have some advice on how to deal with Nolan. At the very least he would give the Sheriff a head’s up regarding his concerns about the recalcitrant officer. That way, if or when Brandon did fire him, it wouldn’t come as a total surprise.
Brandon set the receiver back down. He’d handle this himself. And if Sheriff Hart was like everyone else familiar with the department, he’d push back against Brandon’s concerns.
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