by Colin Conway
“Officer Garrett hasn’t suffered any undue pressure from the command structure due to this situation, has he?”
“I can assure you, he has not. Officer Garrett is a stellar patrolman with an impeccable record. Our command staff stands fully behind him.”
“That’s good,” Durand said. “Because we wouldn’t want to stumble into a hostile work environment as part of investigation.”
Damn it.
He needed to say something now—anything. Otherwise, he’d just look petulant as she took pot shots at his department. Or worse, he’d look like he was actually hiding something.
Baumgartner pulled back his shoulders. “Law enforcement is a hostile work environment.”
Captain Hatcher winced.
“We understand fully,” Durand said and glanced between her staffers. When she returned her attention to Baumgartner, she said, “We look forward to talking with your officers.”
The chief looked to Farrell who stared straight ahead. The captain’s face was ashen.
What the hell is wrong with him?
“You can talk with whoever you like,” Baumgartner said.
“A number of questions concerning your department have been raised,” Durand said. “And most of this came from reading news reports.”
“You can’t always believe the news,” Baumgartner said.
Durand’s smile softened into condescension. “Now, Chief, please don’t use the fake news angle on us.”
“The local media doesn’t like us,” he blurted. There was a surprising whine to his voice, and he was embarrassed to hear it.
“They don’t like any of us,” Durand said, “but we still do the work we swore to perform. We’re all professionals, aren’t we?”
Both attorneys behind her crossed their arms now. Baumgartner was sure it was a move meant to intimidate, and it irritated him. Especially since Farrell stood next to him looking like he had seen a ghost. To make matters worse, Hatcher seemed like she was enjoying watching him squirm. He swallowed but did so with some difficulty.
“Relax, Chief,” Durand said with a dismissive wave. “This is only a fact-finding mission. It’s not a takeover of any sort. We only want to look around and ask some questions.”
“Then what will you do?”
She studied him for a moment.
She is actually fucking studying me.
Finding something she liked, Durand nodded with satisfaction. “We’ll go home and make a recommendation.”
“As to what?”
Durand nodded. “As to whether or not a full-scale investigation is needed. If that’s the case, there’ll be a heck of a lot more attention than two attorneys and a deputy chief can give.”
Baumgartner remained silent. What better course of action did he have right now?
Durand glanced down at her wedding ring. “I can assure you of two things, Chief Baumgartner. One is that our investigation will be thorough. The other is that it will be objective. There is no agenda here. We will follow the facts, nothing more.”
Yeah, right.
“So I’m assuming your staff and officers are aware of our arrival.”
That threw him for a moment. “How would we know you were coming?” he asked. Both captains turned to him, but he ignored them. “We were never notified of your visit.”
Durand frowned. “You didn’t receive a phone call this morning?”
Baumgartner’s brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry,” Durand said. “Maybe my information was bad. I thought Lou Nelson was a friend of yours.”
“Lou?”
Durand’s frown faded. “That’s right. I asked him to call. Give you a heads-up when we landed.”
The chief suddenly felt cornered. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.
“Chief…” Durand glanced at both Farrell and Hatcher before continuing. “Did you really think a friend you send a sporadic Christmas card to would risk his career to tell you we were on the way?”
“But why?” His words were half his normal volume.
“Why the call? I figured it would ease the shock of us showing up. Maybe help you acclimate to the idea of us being here so we could avoid all the wailing and gnashing of teeth that usually slows things like this down.”
That wasn’t the reason, Baumgartner knew. Durand wanted to show she knew things about him that he would be surprised she knew. And to keep him off balance. Well, it worked, on both counts.
Farrell and Hatcher watched him with concern. They were looking to him for leadership and, by God, it was time he delivered. He needed to take control of the meeting.
Chief Robert Baumgartner stood a little straighter, pulled his shoulders back, and thrust his chin out. “They’ll be no wailing and gnashing. We’ll provide whatever you need.”
“I would expect nothing less,” Durand said.
“We have nothing to hide,” Baumgartner added.
Durand only stared at him in response.
Baumgartner let the silence sit for a few moments, then said, “Also, I’ve called the mayor and alerted him to your visit.”
“I appreciate that.”
“He said he would make himself available for you anytime, but I said we’d be over later in the afternoon. I figured you’d want to—”
Durand held up a hand. “I’ll meet with him now.”
“Oh.”
“Alone.”
Baumgartner licked his lips.
“You understand the reason for that, don’t you?”
“Yeah, sure,” he mumbled.
If you’re going to discipline a police department, you probably don’t want to reveal you cards to the chief of police before you start the process.
His stomach roiled.
Durand looked to both her attorneys then back to Baumgartner. “I need someone to show around my staff.”
“Dana and Tom,” Baumgartner said, his voice almost a whisper now “They can escort them around.”
“That’ll be fine.”
Baumgartner couldn’t believe how embarrassing this initial meeting had gone. It should have been a simple introduction, but Édelie Durand had put him on notice that he was not the big dog in his own yard. No one had ever done that before. Not Mayor Sikes. Not a councilperson. No one.
Then this woman walks into his conference room and kicks him in the balls in front of two captains and her staff. It was humiliating. He needed a private meeting. Perhaps if he could have a few minutes of back and forth with her, he could understand how he mishandled this initial meeting.
Baumgartner turned to Farrell. “Why don’t the four of you get started on the tour? Let me sit with Mrs. Durand so we—”
“Chief, I need to be clear about something.” Durand spoke in a neutral voice, but Baumgartner could hear the steel in her words.
“By all means.”
“This is a DOJ investigation. We will set the agenda, including who to interview and when.”
“I get that, but—”
“That includes when we conduct our official interview with you.”
Baumgartner inhaled deeply and forced a smile that Durand didn’t bother to return. “Can I have some time,” he said, “after your return from the mayor’s office so we can sit and chat? Maybe get acquainted?”
“If there’s an opportunity. Meanwhile, we’re going to need this conference room for the next few days. For interviews, file audits, that sort of thing. You understand.” Durand glanced up at the flickering light. “But if that blinks the entire time, we’re probably going to get cranky. Get it fixed, will you?”
Durand didn’t wait for Baumgartner to respond. Instead, she spun on her heel and walked between her subordinates. They, however, lingered behind and watched the chief and his captains with intense curiosity.
Baumgartner’s face felt warm and he could feel wetness under his arms. He knew he was sweating. It had been a lot of years since someone had caused him to sweat like that. Despite Durand’s neutral, if
curt, demeanor, he felt the weight of the DOJ presence settling on his shoulders. His sense of control, always a strength, was shaken.
“If you’ll excuse me,” he said to Curado and Watson.
He didn’t bother saying goodbye to his captains before slipping between the two DOJ staffers.
The chief walked as calmly as he could down the hallway, past Marilyn’s desk, and into his office. Carefully and quietly, he closed the door. Robert Baumgartner shuffled to his desk before dropping heavily into his chair.
He bent forward and whispered, “God damn it.”
Chapter 10
Thick tension hung in the air. Captain Tom Farrell stared at the doorway following the chief’s departure. He wished he could escape the conference room, too. His knees felt weak. His mind flitted distractedly through a quick succession of thoughts, barely exploring one before another pushed it aside.
I’ve never seen the chief get put on his heels like that before. Even when attacked by the mayor, a reporter, or a city councilmember, Baumgartner always handled the exchange deftly, like a boxer who could take a blow but keep to the fight plan. The cold, calculated way Durand knocked him around was stunning.
And Hatcher liked it. Even through his own shocked response, he’d been able to see that. Just under the professional veneer of impassivity, he saw a shadow of perverse satisfaction. What was the word for that? Schadenfreude, that was it.
None of that matters. They’re going to find out everything.
The silence stretched out, and tension rose with it. Farrell knew he should be the one to break it, since he was the senior captain. But that last thought kept him stapled to where he stood, unspeaking, staring after his departed chief.
Captain Hatcher cleared her throat. “Well, why don’t we each show one of you around, to give you the lay of the land?” She motioned toward Watson. “Counselor?”
“No,” Watson said flatly. “We’ll stick together.”
Hatcher frowned. “All right. What would you like to see?”
“Let’s start with Investigations.”
Straight for the jugular. That brought him out of his temporary shutdown. “That’s fine,” he stammered, “but let’s give you a quick once around first. That way you’ll have a sense of where everything is.”
“They said what they want to see, Tom,” Hatcher said. She lowered her voice slightly when she said, “Let’s just take them there.”
“We will. I’m only suggesting we do a brief tour first.”
“We’re not real estate agents,” Hatcher grumbled.
Farrell ground his teeth together, his worry and stress shifting toward anger. Why did Hatcher have to make things difficult? Despite their differences, they should be showing DOJ a united front. He opened his mouth to reply, but Watson interrupted.
“Officers,” she said firmly. She glanced at her partner then back to Farrell and Hatcher. “If you don’t mind—”
Farrell’s frustration boiled over. “It’s captain, actually,” he said, interrupting her in turn.
“Excuse me?” Watson gave him a surprised look.
“I’m a captain,” Farrell said. “It’s a rank I earned. I haven’t been an officer for many years.”
“I misspoke. If we could—”
He motioned with his head toward Hatcher. “Same for her.” He sensed Hatcher watching him but couldn’t gauge her response in his peripheral vision.
“Fine.” Watson bit off the word. “But is that really how you want to play this?”
“Dani,” Curado began, but she shot him a look that silenced him.
Farrell felt all the steam go out of him as soon as it had risen. What was he doing poking the bear? But now he saw no graceful way to back away from the exchange.
I’ve screwed this up worse than Baumgartner did.
“I’m not playing at anything,” he said evenly. “You’re here for information, right? I am just making sure your information is accurate.”
In his peripheral vision, he saw Hatcher roll her eyes.
Watson glared at Farrell for several seconds before she spoke. “Very well, Captain. Give us a brief walk around the police station for orientation purposes, and then take us to the Investigative Division.”
“Of course.” He started for the door, brushing past the two DOJ attorneys. He didn’t look to see if they followed.
Hatcher fell in beside him. Watson and Curado remained several paces back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hatcher whispered. “Do you want them to slap a consent decree on us?”
Farrell didn’t answer. He knew she was right. Getting into a pissing match with DOJ was foolish. His fear turned to anger and then he’d let both control his actions, responding without clear thought. The exchange with Watson accomplished nothing other than to alienate her, probably making her even more motivated to find something wrong or shady within his department.
She won’t have far to look. He’d just painted a target on his own back.
When he didn’t reply to Hatcher, she said, “Tone it down. Be a professional.”
He didn’t answer that, either. He just kept walking forward, hoping to get through what lay ahead of him.
That was all he could do now.
Chapter 11
“This is bullshit,” Mayor Andrew Sikes said.
Seated in his office, Sikes was clearly doing his best to project an air of casual professionalism. He crossed one leg over the other and draped his left arm along the back of the leather couch. His right hand drummed absently on the ankle of which it rested.
However, his face was beet red and large beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His shirt collar was unbuttoned, and his blue tie appeared hastily tied and askew.
Édelie Durand sat quietly opposite him and watched.
The mayor had shown up to the meeting already purpled and perspiring. She had nothing to do with this physical reaction.
By showing up unannounced, Durand had interrupted his workout. For fifteen minutes, she waited patiently near his assistant’s desk. During this time, Durand texted with her husband to check on his condition. Roland said he was having an okay day, which she knew was code for a difficult one. She texted supportive messages to him, never leaving for a drink of water or a bathroom break. Her constant presence caused the mayor’s stolid assistant to grow increasingly anxious as evidenced through ever more furtive glances between her and the clock on the wall.
When the mayor finally trotted onto the seventh floor, tugging at his tie, his assistant intercepted him. They exchanged hushed yet hurried words. She tried to tamp his mussed hair in place, but Sikes pushed her away.
After quick introductions, the mayor demanded that his chief of staff be allowed to sit in on their meeting. Durand flatly said no and threatened to leave. Sikes eventually relented.
Then the mayor stammered his way into an insistence on his assistant taking notes of their meeting. Again, Durand said no. If he wanted notes, she said, he could take them himself.
She really didn’t care if his chief of staff or assistant were in the meeting, she only wanted to see how the mayor would react. She wanted to see the man under some level of pressure.
Now, he was doing his best to display an air of casualness. His choice of words, however…
“Fucking bullshit.”
Durand lifted her eyebrows. “How so?”
“You waltz in here like you own the place.”
“By you, I assume you’re implying the federal government.”
“God damn right, I am.”
Durand nodded.
Sikes wiped sweat from his forehead then rubbed the palm of his hand along the side of his blue suit pants. “Without warning, I might add.”
“I warned the chief we were coming.”
“Bullshit.”
“I had his friend call him when we landed.”
The mayor’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down before he asked, “His friend?”
“His friend at
Justice. I made sure the chief got a call.”
Sikes wiped the side of his face followed by another palm swipe along his pant leg.
“We did our homework before arriving,” Durand continued. “We know things about your police department, your city, and you.”
“Me?” Sikes seemed genuinely surprised to be included.
“I came over as a courtesy to introduce myself and explain why we’re here.”
The mayor smirked. “That’s a requirement. You can’t operate in my city without me knowing about it. You gotta get my permission.”
“Your permission?”
“That’s right.”
She stood and moved to the window. “Your city?”
“That’s what I said. And if you want to operate here, Mrs. Durand—”
“It’s Ms., actually,” she corrected.
The mayor waved his hands dismissively. “Honest mistake. You’re wearing a wedding ring.”
Durand glanced down at the diamond solitaire. An image of Roland flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away. There was work to do if she wanted to get back to him, and that work was going to be a lot easier if the Honorable Andrew Sikes was on the sidelines.
“Ms. is the standard these days,” she told him. “A woman shouldn’t be defined by her marital status. Miss and Mrs. are patriarchal terms.”
“Oh, please,” Sikes said. “Next thing you’re going to say is that you kept your maiden name.”
Durand almost smiled. The mayor walked right into it. “Maiden name is an antiquated term. But yes, I kept my family name. I did it to honor my mother and father. And before you ask, my husband was very supportive.”
“I’ll bet he was,” the mayor sneered.
Durand shifted gears. “May I ask you something?”
“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
“How is it you were able to survive the cover-up of a rape allegation against a councilman?”
“I never—”
She turned back to look out the window. Nearby was a beautiful park and an arena. In the distance, a square monolith stood out like an ugly, sore thumb. The Spokane River ran by the base of city hall.