Mac looked over the mobile home. It was old, and the skirting was coming loose. Two doors had small stoops in front of them. One had a sign that said guns above it; the other said adult movies. No frills, Mac thought, amused. But then people knew what they were after when they came here. They didn’t just drive by and think, ‘Oh! We should buy a gun’ or ‘Oh, let’s rent a porn flick for tonight.’ Although he couldn’t imagine coming here for either one. He wondered idly if there was a back door that said meth above it? Because he couldn’t be making a living off sales through the front doors.
He focused on Norton. He was standing at the base of the steps. Move to the side, you idiot, Mac thought. He was about to call out to the man, when Norton started speaking. Mac rolled his eyes.
“Lucas, it’s Pete Norton,” the sheriff said.
“Pete! They want to serve me papers and make me give up my boys!”
“No, man, this is just a notice to you that you’re going to have to go tell the judge why she shouldn’t do that,” Norton said. “It doesn’t do anything. Just makes an appointment. You’re going to need to get your attorney to help you out. I know you’ve got one.” There was amusement in his voice.
The man in the trailer laughed, too. “Yeah, I got a lawyer,” he said. “He’s beaten you a couple of times. Do you think he can beat my wife?”
Norton snorted. “Wouldn’t phrase it like that,” he advised. The two men laughed. Mac rolled his eyes. “But I know how you feel. Been there, still am there. A man wants his sons. But you can’t go shooting at my deputies, Lucas. That’s not right!”
“Sorry, man,” he said. “Sorry guys,” he said louder. “I’m on edge these days. The bitch is trying to take my boys away!”
Norton winced, but he didn’t say anything. “So, Lucas, you need to come out and take these papers and give them to your attorney. And no more threats!”
The door opened and a tall man with thinning hair and a scruffy goatee stepped out. Mid-30s, Mac thought, but they hadn’t been easy years. He had a shotgun in his right hand, dangling as if he’d forgotten he was carrying it. Mac tensed. The man had a hair-trigger temper. Why the hell didn’t the sheriff tell him to put the gun away? He was beginning to think he should have pulled the weapon out of his backpack.
But Jorgensen just nodded at the sheriff and accepted the papers. “I’ll talk to my attorney,” he said. “Can’t talk to her.”
“No,” the sheriff said. “Don’t go see your wife. She’s got a restraining order. We don’t want to lock you up, now, you hear?”
Jesus, Mac thought. Norton was a piece of work. Wife’s got a restraining order. Cops have arrested him more than once. Probably deals meth — and isn’t a combination? Guns, sex films and drugs? He shot at the deputies. And Norton’s talking to him like they were buddies?
Well, it was a known strategy to de-escalate a situation, Mac conceded. But this felt real, like Norton really did sympathize with the man, liked him even. He let nothing show on his face, and he glanced at Angie to see her reaction. She was shooting photos, and the camera blocked her emotions from showing on her face. Probably just as well.
The two men talked quietly for a bit, before Norton patted him on the shoulder and headed back toward the SUVs. “All done,” he said cheerfully to his deputies as he walked past them.
“You going to let him get away with shooting at us, Pete?” one deputy asked furiously. He kept his voice low so Jorgensen couldn’t hear, but it carried just fine to Mac.
“He’s upset because his wife is leaving him and taking his sons,” Norton said. “Seems like we can cut him some slack. Nobody got hurt.”
There was a bit of muttering, and Mac made a note to ask Rodriguez if this was common procedure. He knew the cops had a boys-will-be-boys attitude — if you were white — but this seemed off. And it sent the message that it was understandable to shoot at a deputy? He wouldn’t work in a department like that.
“All done here,” Norton said.
Angie got in the back seat without comment, and Mac took his spot in front.
“You seemed awfully confident he wouldn’t shoot you,” Mac said in a neutral voice.
The sheriff shrugged as he started the SUV and backed out of the gravel parking lot. “Lucas isn’t a bad guy, really,” he said. “Been on some wilderness training exercises with him, so he knows me. He’s just upset.”
“Wilderness training exercises?” Mac asked.
“Yeah, there’s a guy up here who runs them. Kind of like geocaching, but a bit more exciting,” Norton said. “You should try it. Given your background, you’d like it.”
“I would,” Mac agreed. “Can I get his name?”
“Craig Anderson down in Marysville is the contact person,” Norton said. “But they’re based out of Sedro-Woolley. Runs them most weekends, I think. You should talk to him about going on one. I’ll get you his number.”
“I’d like that,” Mac said, not admitting he not only had the number, he had talked to the man just days ago. He’d have to review his notes to see if he could get away with going out with a group.
“Tell him I sent you,” Norton added. “I’ll put in a good word.”
“Appreciate it,” Mac said. He changed the subject. “So, you used to believe that Sandy Hook was staged, denied that it happened. Have you changed your mind on that since you’ve had to deal with one up here?”
Norton was silent for a moment. “Hard to deny we’ve got a problem with school shootings when one happens in your own county,” he said slowly. “So, I’m not as vocal about Sandy Hook as I once was. But there was something about that one that just didn’t set right with me, with a bunch of us sheriffs, you know?”
“What didn’t set right?” Mac asked, ignoring the obvious answer. A whacked-out teenager with access to an AR-15 went into a school and killed a bunch of kids and teachers. He would never forget President Obama’s tears that day.
“First, it was too convenient. Liberals were trying to get gun control legislation passed, and then bam! There’s a tragedy that says we need gun control to protect our kids,” he said more energetically than his previous remarks. “Some folks believed it was done with actors,” he continued. “That it was all made up.”
“And then you had a school shooter here,” he said.
“Yeah,” Norton acknowledged. “And there was nothing faked about it. Kid stole a gun from his father and headed to the school to get revenge. I get he was angry because a girl refused to go out with him, but shooting seven people over it? And then he killed himself. Tragic. But it wasn’t the gun’s fault.”
“His father was charged and convicted with gun violations,” Mac observed, noting the man’s sympathy once again for a guy ‘wronged’ by a woman. Pete Norton was truly a piece of work, he thought again.
“Not by my department,” Norton responded. “City did that. I wouldn’t have.”
“Why not? He’s got weapons he shouldn’t have, out where his 15-year-old son can grab them. Didn’t purchase them legally, either,” Mac persisted.
“I don’t believe the gun laws regarding those purchases are legal to start with,” Norton said. “Not constitutional. People were furious about the deaths and wanted someone to blame. He took the blame.”
Some truth to that, Mac acknowledged. But then, he deserved the blame. “You know him?”
“Yeah, goes to my church,” Norton said. “Tragedy like that? Hit him hard. And then he’s harassed for it. People were making anonymous calls, leaving threats. And finally, those charges.” Norton shook his head.
“What about the victims’ families?” Mac asked. “Did they get help? Were they the ones who called for an investigation?”
“Probably,” Norton said as if it didn’t interest him. “City was responsible for the victims and their needs.”
“So that made you reconsider Sandy Hook?”
“Some,” he conceded. “Still think there was something hinky about how that went down. But yeah, I now know
a kid can be so crazed by the events in his life that he resorts to violence. Hard to take. We need to do better by our kids.”
“There have been 30 school shootings in the last year,” Mac observed. “You think there is something hinky about all of them?”
The sheriff was silent as he pulled back into the lot behind the sheriff’s department. He parked, and then he turned to Mac. “I think the kids are being used by anti-gun enthusiasts to pass legislation regulating guns. And those laws are unconstitutional,” he said levelly. “And I don’t give a god-damn about what the state legislature says or what the courts say. The Constitution isn’t difficult to read.”
“You think disturbed teenage boys constitute a well-regulated militia?” Mac asked.
“Not the boys. But their parents? The ones who owned the guns? I believe every American is in the militia that guards our freedom and protects this country,” Norton said.
“Protects the country from invasion,” Mac said.
“Or from those within who would take our civil liberties,” Norton replied. “Quite frankly liberals worry me more than Russia ever did.”
Norton looked at his watch. “I’m going off the clock here, and I’m expected for dinner. You staying over?”
Mac nodded. “More tulips,” he said with a laugh. “Can I catch you tomorrow? I’m sure I’ll have more questions.”
“Sure,” Norton said. “You’re more knowledgeable than any reporter I talk to regularly. Say 10 a.m. for breakfast? Mr. T’s is good. Bit of a hole-in-the-wall, but good food.”
“See you then,” Mac said, as he got out and closed the door. Norton nodded and headed into the office.
“Well, that was interesting,” Angie said in a low voice.
Mac snorted. “You think? Let’s find a hotel. I feel like I need a shower after that.”
“And then dinner at some place that serves their well drinks strong,” she agreed, then flushed. “Sorry. Forgot you don’t drink.”
Mac smiled at her. “Means you’ve got a designated driver back to the hotel,” he said lightly. “I’m looking forward to hearing your take on the afternoon.”
She smiled, and looked toward the door Norton had gone through. “After supper but before those drinks? I’d like to find Jorgensen’s wife. And Norton’s ex. And I wonder who has dinner waiting for him tonight?”
“All interesting questions,” Mac agreed. His stomach growled. “Let’s find that hotel and some food. Your dad got another recommendation?”
Chapter 10
Mac usually didn’t spend much money on hotels if he were by himself. But he was traveling on the company dime and with a woman co-worker. And turned out there weren’t many choices during the Tulip Festival. So, he just accepted the hotel Janet had booked them in. But it was nice. It was downtown, one of the old hotels that someone had restored, and he liked it. Liked all the dark wood, even the wallpaper. The shower was a tad small for a man of his size, but he was only going to take a few of them. And he’d be taking them alone. He shrugged and took a shower, got dressed, and went back downstairs to take his photog to dinner.
“You take your work backpack with you even after hours?” Angie asked him when they were seated at Trumpeter Steakhouse.
It was early for dinner, just now turning 5 p.m. which made the sheriff’s hours odd ones. Lots of odd things about that man. Mac smiled, and his dimple showed. He leaned in closer so not to be overheard. “I carry a weapon,” he said softly. “Not something I leave in a hotel room.” Her eyes widened.
He sat back. “Besides, you’re carrying your camera, aren’t you?”
“Don’t go anywhere without a camera,” she agreed, obviously struggling with the fact that he was armed.
They paused in their conversation to place their order. Steaks, his rare, hers medium, fries, salad. Iced tea, hers with sugar. She laughed at his eyeroll. The waitress left.
“Did you have it today with the sheriff?” she asked, obliquely. He nodded.
“Did he know?”
Mac shrugged. “I don’t tell people,” he said. “But if it didn’t occur to him after our talk about guns, I can’t help him being stupid.”
She laughed. “So, is he? Stupid? He lies a lot, but I can’t tell you why or even exactly what was a lie. But he does this little hunch thing with his shoulders when he’s lying.”
Mac looked at her with interest. “A tell? You watch for tells?”
The waitress brought the salads, tea, and a bread basket. Mac took a piece, and tried it. Good, home-made bread. Promising.
“Tells?” he said, after the waitress left.
Angie looked uncomfortable, and then she sighed. “I got into an abusive relationship awhile back,” she said. “One where he convinced me I was at fault. That I should have known he’d want dinner early tonight. Or I should have known he wanted eggs, not bacon. And so, I became hyper-attuned to his every motion, his every gesture, hoping to be able to predict what it was he wanted.”
“And?” Mac said gently.
“And one day he hit me too hard. I ended up in the hospital — not just an out-patient visit for being a clumsy woman either. They had a counselor come by and talk to me. I had one of those aha moments, and when I left the hospital, I didn’t go back to him. I went home to my parents. They took me in, no questions, helped me get counseling. Helped me get my life on track,” she was toying with her silverware, and not looking at him.
“So, you learned to read body language,” he summarized.
She laughed, without humor. “I learned he was lying when he said I should have known xyz. He had a little smirk. Took me awhile to realize he really didn’t care about the eggs vs. bacon, he cared about making me cringe. But when he lied about ‘you should have known’ there would be this little smirk. Most people have some kind of tell when they lie. You spot a lie, that you know is a lie, and you observe their body language. And then you watch for it to repeat. With Norton it’s a slight hunch/turtle thing.”
She demonstrated it: a barely-there hunch, but accompanied by a forward movement of her head. He studied her for a second.
“I don’t want to pry,” he said, quietly. “But I need to know that your ex landed in jail.”
She laughed, and this time there was amusement. “No,” she said. “But I got a restraining order against him. And that was enough. We both worked at the same place, so our bosses had to be told about the restraining order. And they had to schedule us at different times. So not only did they not like the notion he’d been abusive, he was inconvenient. And they fired him. He left the state for his next job. Good enough for me.”
Mac looked at her and nodded. “Before you came to the Examiner,” he said.
She nodded. “Got my confidence back, beefed up my portfolio, and here I am,” she said lightly.
“And I’m glad of it,” he said, and let her see that he meant it. A smile, warmth that reached his eyes. She smiled back, a bit timidly. He wondered if she’d dated anyone seriously since that bastard, then shelved that thought for another day.
Another pause for the waitress to put down their steaks. Mac tried a bite. It was really good.
“Your father scores again,” he said.
She nodded, chewed and swallowed. “I can count on him for restaurant choices,” she said laughing. “Not for the newest hit, but for the solid, been there forever, you can’t go wrong kinds of places. No matter where I go.”
Mac grinned. “Back to our friend,” he said, conscious of the fact the restaurant was filling up. “The fake accent.”
“That was weird,” she agreed. “He was testing you. Taunting you really. I think he already knew who you were. Maybe even that you’d written the Howard Parker story.”
He considered that. “Maybe,” he said. “Some men just have to do that, though. That jockeying for who’s top dog.”
“Yeah, the chest bumping routine,” she agreed. And he laughed at that. “Then there was the whole bit with me. At first, I thought it was par
t of the John Wayne persona he was trying out. Then I thought maybe he was seeing what you would do. And I think that was part of it. Thanks for letting me handle it, by the way.”
He nodded. “I’ve learned. My aunt I told you about? Yeah. She gets really pissed if I try to fight her battles for her. So, if it’s just words, I figure a woman can handle it herself. Usually better than I can. Women fight dirty. Just like you did today.”
Angie giggled. “That was fun,” she said. “And it defeated his attempts to get you involved. But by the end of the day, though? That’s a man with a serious grudge against women.”
“How so?” he asked. He had some thoughts about it, too, but he was interested in her perspective.
“His sympathy with Jorgensen,” she said. “He wasn’t just saying all that to get Jorgensen to come out. That’s what he thinks.”
“No tell?”
She shook her head. “And then his own ex wanting to leave? Angry. The comments about women deputies? He’s angry — I bet he got called on the carpet by the county commissioners about his bad employment stats. Which is why I want to see those two women. You OK with that?”
Mac nodded. “I think talking to his ex is an important part of a profile,” he said. “And I have no problem talking with Jorgensen’s wife either. To make sure she’s safe, if nothing else.”
“Statistic waiting to happen, there,” she muttered. “And I hope to God she’s within the city limits so she’s got someone to call besides him.”
Mac noted she wasn’t using a name now either. Good. She also knew more about government structure than most people did — including some of Mac’s co-workers in the newsroom.
“The school shooting reaction was off, too,” she continued. “He still thinks there’s something weird about Sandy Hook? Was he really a denier?”
Mac nodded. “Right up until the school shooter in his own town,” he confirmed. “One of the reason Janet wants this story. She wants to know if that changed him.”
“Not much, I don’t think,” Angie said. “That was a pretty grudging acknowledgement.”
Serve & Protect Page 10
