by Colin Conway
“That’s the number one reason I want you looking into this instead of a detective. If it is a political scandal but not a police matter, I don’t want the department getting dragged into someone else’s bullshit. If it actually turns out to be a criminal matter, we can turn your investigation over to the sex crimes unit for follow-up.”
Stone stared at him for a moment, saying nothing.
“Gary?” Baumgartner asked.
“Just making sure I understand. You want this to stay quiet unless there’s a crime?”
Baumgartner gave a small shrug. “Not exactly. I want to know what we’re dealing with before anyone else is aware of the situation. It could go a number of different ways, and doing what’s right for the department depends on knowing as far in advance as possible which way it’s going to go.”
“And Miss Rabe?”
“If you determine she’s a victim, we’ll do right by her, of course.”
Baumgartner didn’t mention to Stone that he’d already had Michelle Tremblay in crime analysis pull a history on Betty Rabe. From what he’d seen, he doubted she’d turn out to be the victim of an actual crime. In fact, he had his doubts about whether she was even telling the truth about the sexual liaison with Councilman Hahn. He decided not to let Stone in on his thoughts. He didn’t want to bias the officer.
“This is sensitive, Gary,” Baumgartner continued. “The letter was sent to the mayor’s office, and he handed it over to me personally. We want this contained until you get whatever happened sorted out. So don’t talk to other officers about it.”
“Understood. What about my sergeant?”
Baumgartner waved his question away. “He’s your sergeant for payroll and logistical purposes only. For all intents and purposes, you work directly for me. Investigate this letter and report back with whatever you find, but do it all discreetly.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t enter the report into the system, either.”
“What?” Stone looked surprised. “Why not?
“I want a chance to review it before I decide if it needs to be an official report or not.”
“Okay…” Stone’s expression seemed stuck mid-way between confusion and reluctance.
“Do what I ask,” Baumgartner said, putting a slight edge of command in his words. “Either write it up by hand or type it out, but I don’t want a digital record of this. At least, not yet.”
“Use a typewriter?”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t know where one even exists these days.”
“Then use a pen,” Baumgartner snapped. “I’m assuming you know how to use one of those.”
“Yes, sir.” Stone looked troubled.
“What’s the matter?” Baumgartner asked.
“It seems a little…irregular.”
Baumgartner scratched this chin. “It’s not. It just seems like it is because this is where politics and policing converge. We’re not taking some guy to jail for smacking his wife or arresting some mope for stealing a TV. This is about navigating dangerous waters in a way that keeps the department and the officers on the street safe. It’s not checkers, it’s three-dimensional chess.”
Stone nodded, but his expression remained vexed. “Why me, though? I’m just a patrol officer.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“Listen, Gary, you’re different. I knew that the moment I met you. From the day you walked into this department it was clear you didn’t fit the normal mold. Most of these guys, they’re cut from the same cloth. They’re hunters who want to chase bad guys like dogs want to chase cats. Catch ’em, spit ’em out, and do it again tomorrow. It’s all about the chase, and the chase makes them happy. You, though, you don’t fit that. You’re something different. Then I figured out how to use your talents, and we entrusted you with city hall. You like it there?”
Stone nodded. “I do.”
“And you’re good at it.”
“I think so,” Stone said.
“That’s because you’re a round peg in a round hole in that position. It fits you. You’re a politician with a gun, Gary.”
Baumgartner watched Stone’s face as he seemed to process his words, and then a slight smile tugged at the corners of the officer’s mouth.
Good. He’s happy with what he is. People always performed better when that was the case.
Baumgartner took the opportunity to ratchet things up a notch. “But I need more from you. Lately, you haven’t exactly been funneling much in the way of intel into this office. That’s why you’re at city hall—to be my eyes and ears.”
Stone swallowed and cleared his throat. “I apologize.”
“Don’t apologize. Just give me something I can use.”
“It’s been kind of quiet over there, Chief. Since the mayor’s reelection, the remodel has been the only big thing going on.”
“And the expansion of the city council to nine members,” Baumgartner added.
“Yeah,” Stone said. “Oh, yeah. I did hear something interesting happen this morning from Jean Carter. She’s Councilman Hahn’s personal assis—”
“I know who she is. What happened?”
“She’d given me a threatening letter addressed to Hahn. You know, the run-of-the-mill crazy stuff.” Baumgartner nodded and Stone continued. “Anyway, we chatted for a second about Councilman Buckner’s problems and she said it was about to get much worse. When I asked her what she meant, she suddenly got quiet. At the time, I thought she was talking about Buckner, but now I’m starting to wonder if she meant Hahn.”
“You think she knows about this letter?”
Stone looked down at Betty Rabe’s letter in his hands. “I don’t know, but maybe.”
Baumgartner leaned forward and gave Stone a hard look. “Well, you better find out.”
Time to earn your stripes, kid.
CHAPTER 5
Betty Rabe lived in a quiet, north Spokane neighborhood known as Indian Trails. An early 2000s red Toyota coupe was parked in the driveway.
It was shortly after three p.m. when Gary Stone pulled up outside her house. He’d driven to that location based upon the return address listed on the letter sent to Councilman Hahn.
At first, Stone parked directly in front of the yellow two-story, but remembered Ray Zielinski’s earlier admonition. He knew better than to park in front of a contact’s house. He had never done it while on patrol. However, the past year working in city hall had allowed some bad habits and sloppy thinking to creep into his professional routine. The hard work and studying that he did during the academy and probationary period seemed to be atrophying.
Stone put his car into reverse and backed up several houses before parking again. How many previous contacts had he gone on where he parked directly in front of a residence? How many fellow officers failed to say anything about the safety concern? It bothered Stone that a senior officer like Ray Zielinski had to point out his failures to him. Perceptions mattered to Stone, and now Ray had a tainted opinion of him. Stone made a mental note to work on Ray. He seemed like a decent guy despite his outward gruffness and would be a good person to get to know better within the department. Someone with twenty years of experience had to know how the system worked.
He tapped the screen of his mobile data computer, calling it to life. Then he typed in Betty Rabe’s name, but his finger hovered over the Enter key.
He had no other information to go on. He should have run her name before leaving the department, but Stone was bothered by Chief Baumgartner’s request.
Keeping the interview quiet was unsettling for Stone. They were the police. They shouldn’t be afraid to be open and transparent. The only times they should be quiet was for officer safety or legitimate privacy laws, such as medical information. They should only use trickery when trying to solve a crime. None of those applied to this situation.
Stone stared at Betty Rabe’s name on
the screen. He was tasked with investigating a possible sexual assault against an underage woman, but not being allowed to enter his findings into the system. Maybe he should have talked with his sergeant about the matter.
However, the chief expressly told him not to do so. Stone looked up to the chief and didn’t want to cross him.
Maybe he should talk with Dale Thomas, the union president. Stone pinched his lips together at the thought. Dale was a tool. He had only talked with Stone once and that was when he asked him to pass along a message to the chief. He would never ask Dale for advice.
His finger continued to hover over the Enter key. If he pressed it, there would be a record of him running Betty Rabe’s name. How would he explain that to the chief if asked? Or to someone else, if they came asking?
Jeez, he was over thinking things.
Stone’s eyes drifted to the red Toyota in the driveway. He quickly cleared the screen and called up the Department of Licensing screen. Stone entered the car’s license plate. It came back to Donald Rabe at the same address. Perhaps her father? Stone mused. That was good enough to confirm the address.
He pressed the status button on the computer and the screen changed again. He was about to put himself out at the address for a “contact citizen” call, but he remembered another of Baumgartner’s directions. He wasn’t to let anyone know what he was doing. Therefore, he left his status unchanged and available. Besides, radio never sent him calls anyway.
He got out of the car, leaving his portable radio on the front seat.
She opened the door for Stone before he ever made it to the small porch.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
The girl was small, bordering on frail. Her clothing and appearance were in stark contrast to her frame, though. She had jet black hair and black lipstick. She wore a black top that read In This Moment and had on a red plaid skirt. Her black stockings had large holes in them and her combat boots were not laced, the tongues hanging out like her boots were about to vomit.
“Excuse me?”
“I saw you sitting outside, then you came up here. Is everything okay? I tried calling my mom, but no one answered.”
“Everything is fine.”
“But you’re a cop, right? That means something bad has happened.”
“Are you Betty Rabe?”
“Yeah,” she said, drawing out the word. “Thanks for not calling me Bethany.”
“When are your parents supposed to be home?”
Betty stood inside the door and shrugged. “I dunno.” A flash of curiosity appeared in her eyes. “How did you know it was Betty?”
“I was hoping one of your parents would be here.”
“My mom, she’ll probably be home about six. My dad, you can never tell with him. If he’s not working late, he’s probably at the bar with his friends.”
Stone looked around the neighborhood.
“Back to my name,” Betty said. “How’d you know?”
“What’s the problem? You’re Betty, right?”
“I am now.”
“What?”
“Everybody calls me Beth and I hate it. Sounds like a librarian or worse, an old lady. I wanna be a Betty.”
“Betty’s cool,” Stone said easily.
“And popular.”
“Okay.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Only my friend, Alex, calls me Betty. You’re not my friend. So how did you know?”
Stone pulled the letter from his back pocket. “You sent this to city hall. Your name was right here.”
“Oh.” The interested look in her eyes faded. “That.”
“Can we talk?”
“If we must.”
“You sent it to the mayor. He figured you’d want to talk with someone.”
“I wanted to talk with him.”
Stone nodded. “I understand, but that’s not how it works. The mayor has people. I’m one of them.”
Betty pushed the door fully opened and walked away. Dejectedly, she said, “C’mon in.”
Stone stepped inside and closed the door behind him. As he followed her into the living room, he passed a wall full of pictures. He stopped and studied the various pictures of Betty and her family. In each picture, she had brown hair and her face was bright with smiles. Not a single picture had the dark hair or dark look.
She sat on the edge of the couch, her knees clasped together, her elbows on her knees. A book was on the couch next to her, opened in the middle. Stone couldn’t see the title.
“Your family looks nice.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Meaning?”
Betty shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Is everything okay?”
“It’s fine.”
“You sure?”
She glanced up. “My parents, they don’t like my new look.”
“When did it change?”
“This week.”
“Why the change?”
“I was tired of being walked on. I thought maybe I should toughen up some. Maybe people would take me serious.”
“Has it worked?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I feel tougher.”
“That’s something.”
“I think so.”
Stone sat on the edge of recliner. He leaned toward Betty. “Tell me about Councilman Hahn.”
Betty looked away.
“If you want, I can call a counselor to be with us while we talk about it, about what happened.”
Betty glanced at the letter in Stone’s hand, then looked away. “I wish I had never sent that.”
“Why not?”
“Because of this. Because I want to move on from what happened, but now I can’t. You’re here. Someone will always be here because of it, right?”
“It’s something we have to respond to,” Stone told her. “You had to know that.”
Betty stared past Stone at the wall behind him. “Don’t talk like you know me. You sound like my parents when you do that.”
“All right. But what made you send the letter, Betty?”
She shrugged. “A lot of men are getting called on their bullshit these days. You’ve seen the news, right?”
“I’ve seen bad behavior being reported more openly,” he said. “And people more willing to listen than before.”
“Exactly. The whole thing has its own momentum, something I’m a part of now. And he shouldn’t get away with it, you know?”
“Get away with what?” Stone tucked the letter back into his pocket. “Can you tell me what happened?”
She set her jaw and looked directly at Stone. “He attacked me.”
“He attacked you?” Stone quickly thought about the letter. He wanted to pull it back out of his pocket and refresh his memory. She had been vague about the assault, but he wanted to remember her precise words. Unfortunately, he couldn’t recall them correctly.
“Yes. He attacked me. He was aggressive and forceful.” As an afterthought, she said, “And handsy.”
“Handsy?”
“His hands were all over me,” she said softly.
“Let’s step back, okay? Where did you meet him?”
“At church. He’s part of the youth group’s leadership.”
“Is that where he attacked you? Church?”
“No. He attacked me in my car.”
“Hahn was in your car? The little red one out front?”
“Yeah.”
“How did he get in your car?”
Sadness passed over her face. “He was in my car a lot.”
“For youth group stuff?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
“What about the other times?”
“We were just talking at first.”
“Then what happened?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t.”
“We made it.”
“You had sex.”
“Sort of. I mostly did stuff to him.”
“Were you ever in his car?”
“Yeah.”
“Same thing? Talking and then…”
“Exactly.”
“How long was this going on for?”
Betty shrugged. “I don’t know. Couple months, maybe.”
“Every day?”
Her face scrunched. “What? No.”
Stone held up a hand in defense. “I apologize. I’m trying to understand.”
Betty picked at seam of her skirt.
“Was this ever at someone’s house?”
“Here. A couple times. That’s when we finally, well, you know.”
“What about his house?”
“Oh no. We couldn’t do it there.”
“Why?”
She looked at Stone like he was stupid.
“Did you ever,” Stone paused, “at the church?”
“No! What the hell?”
“Again, I’m only trying to understand.”
“You’re not doing a very good job at it.”
Stone nodded, made a couple entries in his notebook, then lifted his eyes to her. “When did he attack you?”
She shrugged and looked away.
“Betty, when did he attack you?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know when?”
“No.”
“All right. How about where? Where did he attack you?”
“I don’t know.”
Stone lowered his notebook and pen and gave her a plaintive look. “I’m trying to help, Betty. Did he say anything when he attacked you? Did you say anything to him before the attack?”
She shook her head, still not looking at him.
“Betty, please. You were in a relationship with him, right? You guys were…” Stone struggled for the right words before continuing, then chose hers. “You were doing stuff, somewhat regularly, right? Then he attacked you. Something happened. Tell me what that was.”
She turned back to him, a look of resolve on her face. “Maybe I’m remembering it wrong.”
Stone was taken aback. “How can you remember it wrong? You sent a letter to the mayor implying that he attacked you. It took time to write that letter. To address it, stamp it, and mail it. Which, by the way, why not send it by email?”