“Yeah,” he agreed. “Maybe Jan does kind of cave in too much.”
“She pretty much do what you ask her to when you’re together?”
“Yeah.”
I let him think about the significance of that for a moment before continuing. To make him useful-to both of us-I wanted him to begin thinking analytically again. “Brian, how did you two meet?”
He blinked a couple of times, as if clearing away a lingering doubt. “Oh, it was just an accident. I guess I got called to their house for a disturbance. Things started rolling from that.”
“Norm was there, too?”
“We wouldn’t’ve been called otherwise.”
“You called her up afterwards?”
He sensed the inappropriateness of that. “No, no. I don’t know. I guess we bumped into each other around town, got to talking… ”
“And she started unloading her problems on you?”
Padget began fidgeting again. “I don’t know, Lieutenant. We just started talking, you know? Like people do. We connected.”
“Who stepped up the relationship to more than talking?”
That seemed safer to him. “She did. I knew it was wrong, or that people would think it was, but she made things pretty hard to resist. I thought I could help her out-get rid of Norm, maybe fix things so she could get her life straight.”
“Maybe be a part of that life?” I suggested.
He paused for a long time. “Maybe.”
I hesitated before asking my next question. “Remember what I said about thinking like a cop? Is it possible, putting your personal feelings aside, that Jan might’ve been manipulated by Norm, even while she was talking about a future with you?”
I was expecting a blowup, so I was surprised by his bland response. “The way things’re going now, I guess anything’s possible.”
It wasn’t lacking in fatalism, but at least he was open to suggestion. I rose and crossed to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair. Did you follow my advice about seeing a counselor, by the way? I guarantee it’ll help.”
“No.”
I’d expected that. Cops tend to steer clear of analysts, not only because of a built-in reticence, but also out of fear their confessions will leak back to their superiors and be held against them. It had been known to happen.
I tried once more anyhow. “It doesn’t have to be the department-sanctioned shrink. See someone on your own.”
But he merely shook his head. “Thanks anyway, Lieutenant. I’m feeling better, knowing you’re out there working for me. I wasn’t so sure before.”
I kept my mouth shut. What did it hurt for him to think my job was that clear-cut? And wasn’t it to lend him support that I’d come here in the first place? What I said instead was, “Keep trying to remember what’s been going on recently. Maybe you’ll think of something helpful.”
Unfortunately, he already had mentioned something relevant, which I didn’t think was going to help him in the least. After I pulled out of his driveway, I didn’t head for home as I’d originally planned, but north toward the Bellows Falls police station to find out if I was right.
The evening shift was just coming on when I pulled into the parking lot. I could see their silhouettes gathered in the radio room, no doubt sampling the cookies I’d heard were regularly supplied by one of the officer’s wives. As I entered the building, however, all conversation died as if cut with an ax, and the small group filed out the door, eyes averted. Only the dispatcher remained, now buried in paperwork, and Greg Davis, looking embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said softly. “Part of the turf.”
“Doesn’t make it any more pleasant. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if your call log indexed responding officers.”
He led me over to the same computer I’d used earlier. “Sure. What case?”
“Everything involving the Bouch residence.”
He cut me a look but remained silent, typing his instructions into the machine. Moments later, a list appeared on screen. I read it, nodded to him to scroll down, read again. I rubbed the back of my neck, disappointed.
“Get what you wanted?” he asked.
“That’s all of it, right? There’re no other records that might show Brian responding to at least one of those calls?” I thought further as he shook his head. “How ’bout if he was off-duty and just showed up to help?”
“It’d still be in here.”
So Brian had lied. I sighed with disappointment. “That’s what Emile remembered, too. First time we talked, he said he didn’t think Bouch and Padget had ever met.”
Davis glanced back at the screen. “He was right-officially at least. Looks like Emily Doyle showed up at the Bouches more’n anyone. Luck of the draw, I suppose.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, but I didn’t believe it for a second.
Chapter 14
IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT when my phone buzzed me back to the present. I’d been sitting half-conscious in my office, the paperwork I’d hoped to complete still littering my desk, victim of a seriously distracted mind.
The voice on the other end belonged to Jonathon Michael, and I could tell from its wavy clarity that he was speaking on a cell phone. “Joe, you up for a small drive? Steve Kiley would like to meet with you, me, and Kathy at the Rockingham barracks in about a half-hour.”
I looked at my watch. It was closing in on midnight. “I take it this is not a social gathering?”
“You got that. Turns out he just found out about our little project. Kathy left a message for him a couple of days ago but never followed up on it.”
“Swell. I’ll be there.”
I hung up, longing for the distracted state I’d just left. What Jonathon Michael had just reported meant that we now had the supervising officer of the drug task force worked up enough to demand a reckoning in the middle of the night.
Kiley was a strong-willed, ambitious man, who as head of this elite team had gained a stature rare among the State Police. It hadn’t inflated his ego-he was a better cop than that-but it had given him power and independence in a system known to be tightfisted with both. The result was a man who was used to more respect than he obviously felt he’d just received from us-and respect was a touchy item for both him and his crew.
The “drug police,” to use the vernacular of some of his colleagues, conspicuously marched to a different drummer. Casually dressed, often bearded and long-haired, task force members kept their own hours, ignored the spit-and-polish of their peers, and sometimes behaved more like the people they were after than the ones they depended upon for backup.
This led to a good deal of ribbing, some of it ill-natured, along with a few suspicions that all that exposure to money and dope could lead to unhealthy habits. Being in the trenches of drug enforcement, far from the ranks and often away from one’s family for long stretches, Kiley and his people became hypersensitive to such innuendoes. Respect and courtesy from colleagues became unstated prerequisites for good morale, and slights were not ignored.
I had no doubts about the nature of the conversation I’d just been invited to join. The surprise was who I met after pulling into the barracks parking lot forty-five minutes later.
A small, compact man wearing a beard, T-shirt, and faded jeans stepped away from the shadows of a pickup truck as I emerged from my car.
“You Gunther?” he asked.
I kept my eyes on his hands. His tone of voice was neutral, but the time and setting were far from it. “Who’s asking?”
“Bill Deets. I’m on assignment with the task force from Bellows Falls.”
I stuck out my hand, which he shook after a slight hesitation. “Glad to meet you. I’m just about to have a powwow with your boss. You coming in?”
He shook his head. “You need to know you’re barking up the wrong tree with Brian and Emily.”
I raised my eyebrows. Padget was common knowledge, especially to someone with this man’s connections. Doyle was another matter. “I’m going after Emily?”