by Colin Conway
“Look,” the chief said, “Dana’s a good leader. That’s why I promoted her, but she still thinks like a lieutenant, and she hasn’t learned the ropes yet at the command level. She needs a little seasoning.”
“This could help her gain that experience,” Farrell offered.
“It could, but her inexperience could also mess it up, and I can’t risk that.” He reached out and put his hand on Farrell’s shoulder. “I need my best man on this, Tom, and that’s you. All right?”
Farrell felt a surge of pride at the chief’s words. He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Baumgartner picked up his sandwich and took a bite. “And come up with a name,” he said around his food. “Something catchy that doesn’t include strike team.”
“I will.”
Deep inside, Farrell was relieved. He’d said what he needed to in good conscience, but he was glad this new team would be under his control. It was going to be his Garrett trap, the doubts of Wardell Clint be damned.
“Now,” Baumgartner said, still chewing. “Tell me why Tyler Garrett is talking with Councilman Dennis Hahn.”
Farrell was surprised by the question. “I…I don’t know offhand. He’s patrol. Why don’t you check with Hatcher?”
“I asked you to look into Garrett, so I’m checking with you.” Baumgartner swallowed, and then gave Farrell a pointed look. “Plus, it sounds like he’s doing investigative work, not patrol work. What the hell is going on?”
“I imagine he’s following up on the Rabe suicide.”
“He definitely is. I got that from Stone. But why is he? Shouldn’t one of your detectives be doing that?”
Farrell considered. “There was nothing at the crime scene to connect Hahn to her death. There’d be no way my detective would even consider that conversation.”
“But Garrett did.”
“He had Stone’s card,” Farrell said, connecting the dots easily enough. “And Stone had his interview with Betty Rabe. He must have told Garrett enough for Garrett to make the connection.”
“Did you check on that card like I asked?” Baumgartner said.
“I did. It wasn’t listed as evidence. My detective never found it.”
“Which means Garrett kept it. That’s awful ballsy for a patrolman.”
It’s dirty. That’s what it is.
He once again felt tempted to bring the chief in on what he knew. Clint’s warnings clanged in his ears, though, and he hesitated. The chief seemed to be souring on Garrett, which could make this a good time to lay out the case for him.
But it was Clint’s voice that won out, and he held his tongue.
Instead, he said, “He’s a hard charger. Ex-SWAT, all of that. Maybe he wants to wrap everything up himself in case there’s any glory involved.”
“Maybe,” Baumgartner said doubtfully.
“Has Hahn contacted you about it?”
“No. And the mayor didn’t know shit, either.”
“Then I’d say let it slide,” Farrell said. “Maybe Garrett is onto something and Hahn really is dirty. If that’s the case, everybody wins.”
“Except Hahn.”
“Screw him. He was taking advantage of an impressionable seventeen-year-old. He made his choice already.”
Baumgartner eyed him with mild surprise. “You’re getting ruthless, Tom. That’s a part of you I haven’t seen before.”
Farrell didn’t answer. There was a lot the chief didn’t know about him.
TUESDAY
When a man lies, he murders some part of the world.
—Merlin Olsen, actor/football player
CHAPTER 45
Zombie houses were a chronic problem following the market crash. There were hundreds, if not thousands, around Spokane County. The homes were abandoned by their owners when they found themselves financially underwater, making mortgage payments on houses that no longer held a fraction of their pre-crash value. These properties soon ended up in the foreclosure process and, due to state laws, bank regulations, and other bureaucratic snafus, they remained in limbo for months, sometimes years.
They were often symbolized by boarded up windows, graffiti, and the ever-present “No Trespassing” warnings posted on the front doors.
Drug users and drug dealers were the first to understand the value a zombie home provided. It was a free place to ply their trade or use their drugs and one they could abandon without more than a moment’s regret.
Even though the economy had recovered, zombie houses remained scattered about the county.
Ezekiel “Skunk” Hetzel sat against the living room wall of an abandoned home near the corner of Haven Street and Everett Avenue. Several days before, he’d removed the No Trespassing warning off the front of the house before going around back and kicking in the rear door. He wasn’t worried about anyone seeing him.
Across the alley was the back of The Red Dragon restaurant. At the end of the block was a little convenience store and the Northern Rail Pub. It was a great neighborhood to conduct business in. There were hardly any nosy neighbors to be concerned about. As long as he kept a low profile and didn’t make too much of a scene, he would be good for a few days. If not a few weeks.
Skunk didn’t live in the little house. Instead, he was living in the basement of his mom’s house. That arrangement was only temporary, though, until he saved up a nut to get his own place again. Things had been tight since he got out of jail, but everything was looking up now. The little house he’d broken into was only for conducting business.
“Hey, Skunk?”
“Yo, T, in here.”
Wanting to impress his new business associate, he quickly got to his feet. Skunk heard him walking through the house before he saw him.
Tyler Garrett was an impressive man. He was always dressed sharp, but today he was extra tight. Black slacks, black mock turtleneck, and gray Columbia windbreaker which hung open revealing the gun tucked into the waistband. It was raining slightly outside, and the jacket glistened in the low light of the house. The brim of Garrett’s gray baseball hat was rolled so it touched the edges of his eyes. He looked like a man not to be fucked with. Skunk knew that instinctively.
“No trouble finding the place?” Skunk asked, sounding like his late father.
Garrett shook his head. He was about to say something when his nose crinkled. “Smells like shit in here.”
Skunk flinched in embarrassment. “There’s no running water.”
“You took a shit in the bathroom? What’d you wipe with?”
“I brought toilet paper. There’s a store around the corner. I’m not an animal.”
“Man, next time you get one of these houses, don’t shit in it, okay?”
“Right. Okay,” Skunk said. “I’m sorry, man.”
Garrett pinched his nose for a second then blinked away his reaction to the smell. “Nasty.”
“So, T, what did you want to meet for? Got us another hookup?”
“Not yet. I need a favor.”
“You got it, you got it, just name it.”
Garrett moved to the hallway where light shone in from the back door. There was an open door that led down to the basement. He pushed it closed completely to let more light in the hallway. He pulled out two pieces of paper and handed them to Skunk.
“This,” Garrett said, tapping the handwritten note, “is a girl you need to see. That’s her address. You talk to her about this guy.” He tapped the other piece of paper which was a photograph cut from a newspaper. No text accompanied the photo.
“Who’s the guy?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Right,” Skunk said. “Don’t need to know.”
Garrett tapped the photo again. “Ask the girl about this guy. Ask her if she knows him. She will. If she says doesn’t, she’s lying.”
Skunk met Garrett’s gaze. “If she says she doesn’t, she’s lying.”
“That’s right.” Garr
ett tapped the handwritten note again. “This girl knows that man. You need to tell her that the cops or a reporter or someone is going to come talk with her soon about that man. She needs to keep quiet. Don’t say anything. Got it?”
Skunk’s brow furrowed.
“Hey, are you following all this?”
Skunk nodded. “But why aren’t you telling her all this? Why me?”
Garrett stepped back. “Motherfucker, how many people know me?”
He had now offended Garrett twice. First with the unflushed shit and now this stupid question. “I don’t know,” he said.
“Take a guess.”
“A lot, probably.”
“That’s right, Skunk, a lot of people know me. My face has been all over the news. That’s why I need you. You’re my emissary.”
“Emissary?” Skunk repeated, liking the sound of the word.
“Yeah, emissary. You need to carry a special message for me.”
Skunk repeated the words Garrett had told him. “So what happens if she doesn’t want to remain quiet?”
Garrett was thoughtful for a moment before saying, “Then tell her she’ll end up dead.”
Ezekiel Hetzel’s eyes widened. “Really? We’d have to kill her?”
“C’mon, man, what do you think? Use your best judgment when you’re talking with her. You’ll do fine. I trust you.”
With that, Garrett turned and left him alone in the house.
CHAPTER 46
“Dana?”
Hatcher was stepping through the threshold into her office with a fresh cup of coffee when she heard Farrell call her name.
She ignored him and sat at her desk, picking up the first piece of paper within reach and studying it intently.
Farrell appeared in her doorway. “Hey, Dana, can I talk to you for a second?”
Hatcher looked up. “I’m kind of busy, Tom. I have to figure out what calls we’re not going to answer so you can have your strike team. You know, the team you came up with?”
“Shit. You’re still mad.”
“Why should I be mad? I didn’t put in hours of work on a plan that one of my supposedly trustworthy colleagues hijacked in front of my boss. At least, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t me.”
“Dana…”
“Wait.” She cocked her head. “Was that me? I don’t know. I’m just a dumb girl.” Hatcher gave him a mock pout.
Farrell looked wounded. He started to sit, but Hatcher held up her hand, stopping him.
“I’m busy, Tom. Seriously. What do you want?”
“I wanted to apologize. I didn’t—”
“Apology accepted.”
“Really?”
“No. I don’t need your apology. I’d like my team back, though.”
Farrell frowned. “I can’t do that. The chief is fixed on this being under investigations.”
“Your division, you mean?”
“Look,” Farrell said, “I tried to tell him whose idea it was at the meeting. You were there. You saw. And when we talked again yesterday, I made sure he heard it again, but he’s not listening. You know how he can be.”
“Male?”
Farrell shrugged. “Chiefly.”
If he was a woman, the word would be bitchy.
“I looked for you yesterday afternoon,” Farrell continued, “but you weren’t in your office.”
“I took some time off. So?”
“Nothing. But I wanted to coordinate with you on this. It might be assigned to my command now, but there’s no reason we can’t work together. Bounce some ideas around, work some strategies. I’ll make sure the chief knows, so the credit gets shared.”
A part of her wanted to take him up on it, if only to be involved in what she had created. But another part heard only condescension.
“If you’re here to assuage your guilt, I really don’t have time for that,” Hatcher said. “I’ve got a patrol division to run.”
Farrell nodded. “I understand.”
Do you?
She doubted it.
He turned to go. At the doorway, he looked back. “It’s a good idea, Dana. I’ll make sure to keep you in the loop.”
He left.
Keep this in the loop. She flipped the bird at his back.
CHAPTER 47
“He was sort of…rough a couple times, I guess, but he never really hurt me.”
For nineteen, she had a young face. Officer Gary Stone thought she could have easily passed for sixteen, which was odd when most girls her age were trying to pass for older.
Shelley Mason crossed her arms and waited for his next question. She had fake eye lashes and glasses that Stone suspected were cosmetic only. Her red, long sleeve T-shirt read Gonzaga Bulldogs and was a size too small for her. It left little to the imagination.
“So Dennis Hahn never assaulted you?”
“No.”
That morning, while getting coffee with Jean, Stone had to ask her about the girl she mentioned on Saturday night. He hadn’t written her name down and had forgotten it. Jean was reluctant to say the girl’s name, afraid it could somehow blow back on her. She said she regretted having told him, that the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions. Stone pleaded with her until Jean finally said the girl’s name. She then walked away in a huff, leaving Stone alone in the line for coffee.
“You said he was rough. What does that mean?”
“He has issues. I mean, we all do, probably, right?”
They were standing outside the entrance to the campus library. Stone had suggested they go someplace quiet, but Shelley said it was fine conducting the interview there in the open. She said no one was going to stand around and watch them, plus she had a report she had to finish so she didn’t want to spend too much time walking around trying to find a place to talk.
Stone had managed to track her down, first through DOL, then through social media. She agreed to meet with him here. He thought she would be reluctant to meet since he was vague about what he was investigating, but after he said he was with the police department, she checked his online and social media presence. She told him he seemed okay and agreed to meet on the condition she kept her name out of whatever “thing” he was following up on.
“What issues are those?”
Shelley’s face scrunched, “Really?”
“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I’m trying to learn about Dennis. He’s been accused of assaulting another girl.”
“Oh,” she said, pulling at the bottom of her shirt. “He was never mean. It wasn’t that way. He liked to put me over his lap before we did it was all.”
“Over his lap? To spank?”
“It was sort of, well, weird. I think he liked to play daddy.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, I was cool with it the first time, you know, him being all Fifty Shades and what not. But it sorta stung and it didn’t do anything for me, not even a little bit. For him, it did something, though. It was pretty hot after that.” Her face reddened at the revelation.
Stone shook his head. “He stopped when you asked him to?”
“Sure. I mean, he wanted to do it again, the spanking thing, but I wasn’t into it. I’m not effed up that way.”
“Is that why you broke up?”
Shelley looked at Stone as if he were simple. “We were never really together so there was no reason to break up.”
“Ah.”
“We hooked up. You know, had some laughs. Messed around. He was pretty fun for an older guy.”
“That pretty fun older guy asked you to leave the office where you were employed.”
“It happens. I mean, I knew what I was getting into. I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Anyways, I was just interning there for some school credit. Not the end of the world. My parents weren’t even mad because it was a credit they didn’t pay for.”
“Did they know about him?
”
“Of course not. Do you tell your parents about your sex life?”
“No,” Stone said, feeling slightly flushed. “So you’re cool with how he treated you?”
“Not really cool, no. But I know how the world works. I also didn’t want my name dragged through the mud. I plan on being someone someday, so I don’t need some bullshit hassle.”
Stone took a moment to review his notes.
“Someone really accused him of assault?”
He nodded.
“I wouldn’t have taken him for that type. You can never tell, you know.”
He remained silent.
“You know who you should talk to? There was this other girl we partied with once. Sonya. She let him spank her. Hard, by the way. Much harder than me, but that girl, she liked it. I mean, a lot. She had some real daddy issues. I stood by and let them do their thing until they were done. Then we all played.”
“The three of you?”
“Don’t be a prude. Everybody does it.”
“Not everybody.”
“Well, most everybody I know has tried it. Although we really didn’t do it together, together. We basically watched each other. Dennis liked it that way. That part was…well, you can imagine.”
Stone ignored responding to her and made an entry into his notebook. When he looked up, he asked, “Sonya. What’s her last name?”
“Meyer, I think. After her, I was old news pretty quick. We never hooked up again.”
“Did that make you mad?”
“Not really. It happens. Sometimes you’re the flavor of the month, sometimes your last month’s special. Next to Sonya, I was last month. She’s really pretty. He liked looking at her. I did, too, I guess.”
“Do you know where I can find her?”
“Not really. I think he met her at some coffee shop.”
“Some coffee shop? Which one?”
“I couldn’t tell you. What can I say? The guy was charming when he poured it on.”
“Did you friend her on any social media? Maybe I can find her that way.”
Shelley tilted her head. “Why would I do that? I saw her naked. I didn’t need to be her friend on Facebook to get to know her better.”