by Colin Conway
“The thin blue line, right?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Zielinski said.
“Sure you do.”
“How can I help you if you won’t tell me what I need to know?”
Hahn let out a short bark of dark laughter. “You know what? That’s exactly what he said to me.”
The light turned green, but Zielinski didn’t move right away. “Who said that to you?”
Hahn shook his head and looked away. “Fuck you, man. You’re all the same.”
The car behind Zielinski gave a short, almost apologetic beep of its horn. After a moment, Zielinski let off the brake and drove toward the hospital.
To hell with him. I’ve got my own problems.
CHAPTER 65
“What the fuck is going on over at your department, Dana?” Maggie Patterson asked Hatcher, as soon as she closed the door to her office.
Hatcher sat in the chair in front of the councilwoman’s desk, shaking her head in anger. “It’s a good old boys’ network. I thought it was bad when Baumgartner gave Farrell my strike team. I didn’t realize it was even worse.”
“It’s been the status quo for a hundred years,” Patterson agreed, her voice full of vitriol. She sat in the chair next to Hatcher instead of going behind her own desk. “They’ve had an absolute stranglehold on local politics ever since the city was founded.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s like the freakin’ mafia,” said Patterson.
“If that newspaper article is accurate, Baumgartner was protecting a sexual predator.” Hatcher felt the same anger she’d been feeling all morning rise in her chest again. “I can’t understand that, politics or no politics.”
“His days are numbered,” Patterson said.
“Obviously. No way Hahn survives this.”
“I mean your boss. This will bring the Fat Boy down.”
“It won’t. He’s too popular. People love his whole Gary Cooper, frontier justice approach. He’s a goddamn character to them.”
“It doesn’t matter what the people think. The chief isn’t elected, he’s appointed.”
Hatcher gave her a dubious look. “Do you really think Mayor Sikes has the guts to risk firing him? Especially since he was part of it.”
“What do you think?”
“You’re the politician, Maggie. You tell me.”
Patterson leaned forward. “I honestly don’t know what that pussy will or won’t do. But I’ll tell you this. You work with me and we’ll push Fat Boy out. Then I’ll make sure your name is on a short list for chief.”
“I just made captain,” Hatcher said, surprised.
“Which makes you part of executive leadership. You’re qualified.”
Hatcher thought for a moment, processing the idea. “I’m the youngest captain,” she said. “Both in time on the department and time in grade.”
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is what you’ve done in your career, and what you do from here on out.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, do your officers like you?”
Hatcher considered. Ray Zielinski’s face flashed in her mind’s eye. “I think they do,” she answered. “Most of them, anyway.”
“So you’d have their support,” Patterson assured her. “That matters, especially to the council. But what really matters is that you have access to what’s going on within the chief’s command staff.”
“Are you talking about gaining experience?”
“No. I’m talking about gaining information.”
Hatcher gave her a slightly confused look. “I don’t follow.”
“Dana, let me be as clear as possible. You get me an opportunity and I promise we’ll take that fat fucker out.”
“I—”
Patterson held up her hand. “Before you answer, hear me out on a couple of things.”
“Maggie…I don’t know if I can…I mean, you’re talking about…”
“I’m your friend,” Patterson said. “Trust me for a minute or two here, all right?”
Hatcher thought it over, then gave her a short nod. Maggie was right. They were friends. Besides, all they were doing now was talking. There was nothing insidious about that.
“For starters, take a look at the state of this council. Three men are on their way out. I’ve set it in motion. Hahn and Armstrong are slam dunks. Buckner may continue to fight it, but my guess is that he’ll see the futility of it all and resign.” Patterson held up three fingers. “That’s three new positions.”
Hatcher listened, letting Patterson’s words roll over her.
“This is a revolution, Dana,” Patterson continued. “One we win.”
Hatcher frowned. “Why does it have to always be us versus them? Black versus white, men versus women. It’s exhausting.”
“It’s the way of the world,” Patterson said. “But if you want, look at it like this: the smart people versus the corrupt and the moronic.”
Hatcher cocked her head. “We’re the smart people, right?”
“Of course! The important thing is that we’ll get at least two women in those three slots, maybe all three. No matter how you cut it, we’ll have a majority. After that, some shit will change around this town.”
“For example?”
“How about a woman running the police department? Does Chief Hatcher sound nice to you?”
Hatcher smiled slightly in spite of herself. “It does, actually.”
“Good. And that won’t be all. Men have been running this place long enough. It’s time for some fresh ideas, and that means us. We’ll make changes to city government, positive changes.”
“Like what?”
Patterson leaned forward, giving Hatcher an intense look. “Like changing who sits in the big chair up on the seventh floor,” she said, her voice brimming with confidence.
Hatcher met Patterson’s gaze. She could see the ambition in the councilwoman’s eyes, and she wondered how much of her own reflected back. And what was wrong with that? Ambitious men have been celebrated for centuries. Why shouldn’t she pursue her own ambition? As chief, she could have a positive influence on the entire department, as well as the community. She could be part of a change. Maggie was right about that—a change was overdue.
To make a change like this, she would need allies. That was what Patterson was proposing—an alliance for the greater good.
Patterson seemed to sense her thoughts. She reached out and took Hatcher’s hands in her own. “This is the right thing to do. It’s our duty. But I need your help, Dana. I need you with me on this. Are you?”
Hatcher squeezed Patterson’s hands.
“I’m in.”
CHAPTER 66
“This is your fucking fault!” Mayor Sikes screamed at Baumgartner. “You let this happen!”
The chief stood in front of Sikes’s desk, letting the mayor’s tirade wash over him. After a few more expletive-filled accusations, Sikes brushed his hair from his eyes and crossed his arms, glaring at the chief.
“You’re right,” Baumgartner said. “I screwed up. I should have had the report entered directly into the system.”
“That’s right.”
“I violated my own policy.”
“That was a stupid decision.”
“It was.”
“A decision you made,” Sikes pointed out.
“It was entirely my decision,” Baumgartner agreed. “And it violated policy. You should discipline me for it.”
“I should fire you for it.”
Baumgartner didn’t react, other than to tilt his head slightly at the threat. “If one of my officers committed a similar violation, basically failing to file a report, I’d suspend him for a day. Absent any kind of disciplinary history, I wouldn’t fire him for it.”
“You’re the chief,” Sikes argued. “You’re held to a higher standard.”
“Absolutely,” Bau
mgartner agreed. “I should definitely receive more than a day.”
“Like being fired. That’s more than a day.”
Baumgartner paused. He’d been standing in front of the mayor’s desk to receive his ass-chewing but he decided that time was over, so he moved toward the chair opposite the mayor’s desk.
“I didn’t say you could sit,” Sikes snapped.
Baumgartner ignored him and sat. Then he looked directly at the mayor. “The thing is, I’m going to take a few lumps over this. We both know I’ve got enough goodwill banked with the public to overcome that. The city council is a mess right now, so I don’t see them being a problem for a while, and besides, they bow to the will of their constituents. That leaves you.”
“Your boss, you mean?”
“My boss,” Baumgartner repeated, “who gave me the letter and asked me to look into it quietly.”
Sikes’s eyes widened slightly, before his face collapsed into a dark scowl. He pointed a finger at Baumgartner. “Don’t think you can scrape this shit off your shoe onto me, Bob. You made the decisions you made. That’s on you.”
“It’s completely on me, but let’s face it, Andrew…if this gets too big or too loud, you’ll get pulled into it. Pretty early on, I’d guess. And then you’d have shit on your shoe, too.”
Sikes continued to scowl, but he said nothing.
“I’m surprised,” Baumgartner said, “that Kelly Davis didn’t call you asking for a comment on the story.”
The mayor shifted in his chair.
“If they ran that story without verification from an additional source, the paper could expose themselves to a hell of a lot of litigation.”
Sikes looked away and rubbed his face.
There it is, Baumgartner thought. “So she called.”
“Don’t push me, Bob.”
Baumgartner fell silent then. He now knew the reporter had called the mayor. Sikes must not have considered it worthy of dealing with at the moment. Now, it was going to bite them both in the ass.
“Three days,” Sikes finally said. “I’m suspending you for three days for the policy violation.”
The chief considered the punishment before saying, “That sounds equitable.”
“And no burning vacation days in lieu of suspension days. Three full days, with loss of pay.”
“I understand,” Baumgartner said.
“Then it’s settled.”
“I’m glad we got that behind us.”
Sikes sighed. “It doesn’t solve the problem of the original report.”
“I’ll enter it today.”
Sikes leaned back, steepling his fingers. “You could, but what if…I mean, is there a way to make it look like it was entered earlier?”
“No. The system is designed with safeguards. It has to be infallible, to hold up in court.”
“No system is infallible,” Sikes said. “Couldn’t you swap it out with some earlier report? A nothing report that no one will miss?”
Baumgartner shook his head. “I thought about that, briefly. I don’t believe it would hold up to scrutiny. Plus, it’s a clear violation of state law. In the end, it’d only add to the problem if we were caught.”
“Getting caught always adds to the problem,” the mayor said wryly.
“True. But someone once said something to me that seems to apply here. It’s never the crime or the initial mistake that gets people in the most trouble. It’s the cover-up that follows.”
“Great advice.” The sarcasm in the mayor’s voice was unmistakable. “We could have used that kind of wisdom before we were already in the middle of a cover-up.”
Baumgartner frowned. Sikes just didn’t get it. “A swap isn’t a viable option,” he said.
“Then what if we just shredded it? There’s no way anyone can prove it existed, and we can let Hahn twist and burn in his own bullshit.”
Baumgartner shook his head. “I already considered that. Not only is it wrong, but it may be illegal. Besides, it’s too risky.”
“How is a nonexistent report risky?”
“It came to this office via letter,” Baumgartner reminded him. “How many people saw it before you did? And then there’s Gary Stone.”
“Your little spy, you mean?”
“He was here to be a liaison, not a spy.”
Sikes gave him a knowing look.
“Regardless,” Baumgartner said, “I didn’t authorize him to leak the information to the paper, if he is the leaker.”
“You don’t know?”
The chief shook his head.
“You’ve got a leaker in your department and you don’t know who it is? You better get on top that that, Bob. Like yesterday.”
“If the leak came from my department,” Baumgartner said quietly.
“Don’t try to pass the buck again!”
“I’m not, but it could have come from your staff, or the council staff. We don’t know.”
“Why don’t you try talking to your little spy and see if he’s the one?”
“I will.”
“You should take his badge, the little pussy.”
Baumgartner didn’t answer. He could see the trajectory Sikes was on and that was to make Stone the scapegoat. He’d have to protect Stone, maybe find some low-profile position for the man, because he had no plans to fire him. He’d been a good soldier, if a flawed one. He followed orders, showed discretion when it counted, and remained loyal when he didn’t have to.
That was a rare thing in a young officer.
CHAPTER 67
Detective Clint stopped writing his notes, rereading what he’d written. The notes were all coded, and it was a new cipher that he’d switched to after the Garrett shooting. As he read, he massaged the meaty part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger, which was sore from the furious writing he’d been doing.
On the surface, the Sonya Meyer case was going nowhere. The crime scene techs collected plenty of hair and fiber evidence, but there was no way of knowing who the hairs belonged to until a DNA analysis was conducted. That would take weeks, if not months, due to the eternal backlog at the state crime lab.
If Clint had his way, DNA requests would be screened for several factors before they were allowed to be submitted to the lab. A homicide case should be a given. Sexual assaults and serious physical assaults would also have priority. Crimes against children, too. Beyond that, the cost of the lab work for a DNA recovery and comparison run seemed to him to greatly outweigh the marginal damage the victim suffered. But thanks to bullshit television shows, citizens had an expectation that there’d be DNA analysis for every lawn mower theft and window smash that occurred. Most cops bowed to that expectation and made the lab request, clogging the system. The result was a whole lot of wasted time while the lab technicians prioritized submissions, having to factor in how long a case had been waiting and dealing with cops calling to check on the status of their evidence.
It should be simple. Process the worthy crimes, reject the rest. But craven idiots were in charge of the world, so his homicide was going to take forever to return any DNA-based evidence.
Not that DNA was the magic bullet everyone thought it was. Even if the lab found DNA, there might not be a match in the database, so he’d have an UNSUB, an unknown subject. The DNA could end up belonging to some acquaintance of Sonya Meyer’s, or even a previous tenant, since she was relatively new to living in that bungalow. Meyer’s fingernail scrapings had been minimal, and it wasn’t certain whether she got any of her attacker’s DNA under them. But if she’d managed to scratch the killer in self-defense, the placement of that DNA under her nails would be strong evidence.
Outside of that, even if he got lucky and found DNA for a potential suspect somewhere on scene, it was largely useless if it belonged to Garrett. The officer had defeated the value of the evidence by slipping into the crime scene under quasi-legitimate circumstances. The memory of it still burned in Clint’s gut.
He could put together a case that overcame this obstacle, if he was able to develop other incontrovertible evidence, but knowing the chicken-shit prosecutors, the case probably still wouldn’t be filed. And if Garrett was being protected by the chief, the no-go on the case was a given.
Clint finished rereading his notes. He realized he was letting his suspicion of Garrett color his analysis of the actual evidence available. An objective view pointed to Hahn as the most likely suspect, but Clint had confirmed the councilman’s whereabouts that Jean Carter had reported to him. Multiple unconnected witnesses had seen him engaged in typical political business during the time period of Meyer’s murder. Even if Clint stretched the estimated time of death a little, Hahn still had a solid alibi.
So maybe he had someone do it for him. Men like Hahn don’t do their own dirty work, they hire it done.
That brought him back to Garrett. He could be working for Hahn. But he’d seen Garrett’s hands. Not a scratch on his manicured hands. And Sonya Meyer had clearly been beaten by someone’s fists. The medical examiner found three perfectly spaced bruises on her face that were the telltale signs of knuckles. No one could hit a human head that many times without some sort of injury resulting from it. It wasn’t possible.
Clint stopped, correcting himself.
It was possible. It just wasn’t likely.
What if Garrett wasn’t working alone? He’d worked with the drug dealer Ocampo before, and both Talbott and Pomeroy. Maybe he had assembled another crew, and one of those underlings killed Sonya Meyer.
Clint frowned. In all the time he’d followed Garrett, he’d not seen any evidence of collaboration. The dirty cop seemed all alone. But could he have missed Garrett’s accomplices somehow?
He doubted it, but admitted it was possible. Especially given how careful the man was.
In the end, Garrett remained a suspect, but only in his coded notes. If Lieutenant Flowers found out he suspected the department’s golden child, the company man wouldn’t be able to run to the chief fast enough with the news. Then it’d be Clint’s ass in a sling. He limited his mention of Garrett to describing his interference at the crime scene. In a perfect world, Internal Affairs would grab onto that and Garrett would get spanked, but Clint wasn’t too optimistic about that happening.
