They both turned and looked at me.
“I don’t think so,” Dunn answered at his chilly best.
“Where the hell have you been?” asked Tony, “I’ve been looking all over for you.” His own anger ran deeper than it needed to, which told me the press conference was not his idea.
“Interviewing Bernie Reeves, Vogel’s ex-car pool partner to and from work.”
“Alone?” Dunn asked. I saw Tony go still, obviously ruing that he’d brought the subject up.
“Yes. It was only a background talk. He’d make a good witness. Vogel bragged about his past rapes and fantasized about committing sexual violence on women at work. He even pulled a knife on Reeves to keep him quiet about dropping the car pool.”
Dunn jerked a thumb toward the window and the reporters milling about outside. “Do any of them know you’ve been working alone?”
I felt my cheeks flush and struggled to keep my voice level. “I haven’t been. I wanted to check this one thing out before drawing up an affidavit. I wanted every detail covered before committing ourselves in public.”
Dunn gave me a withering look. “We had more than enough for a search warrant early this morning. That’s what those reporters are doing out there. The warrant’s in the bag-unless you screw it up. I’ve already handled enough questions about you as it is, so don’t add to my problems.”
In the strained silence that followed, Brandt explained, “Santos got chatty with Alice Sims.”
Mention of the Reformer’s courts-’n’-cops reporter gave Dunn a second wind. “And now Katz is thinking that a little human-interest piece on the trials and tribulations of a certain cop with a big personal stake in this case-whose boss thinks he’s Sherlock Goddamn Holmes and lets him work on his own girlfriend’s rape-might make interesting reading. So if you don’t like the timing of this press conference, keep in mind that it might just keep your ass out of hot water.”
Brandt let out a small sigh and began guiding me out the door. “Vogel’s jacket came in this morning from Massachusetts. Why don’t you compare notes with Ron while we dance with the media? It won’t be long. Work up a rough draft of the affidavit in the meantime.”
I paused at the door. “Katz did ask me about a feature piece. I turned him down.”
Brandt’s murmur was beyond Dunn’s earshot. “Don’t worry about it. He talked to me, too, very reasonably. This Santos thing’s just got the SA worked up. And we do have more than enough for a search warrant.”
I, too, kept my voice down. “What if we come up empty? We’ll all look like idiots. Why not wait the few hours it’ll take us to check the trailer out? Then he can talk till he puts ’em all asleep.”
Brandt sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Dunn had gone back to studying the press release. “There was a bad poll this morning.” He paused, knowing how hollow that sounded. “And Jack Derby’s holding his own press conference in an hour.”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled tiredly. “I can’t tell a state’s attorney what to do. I can only recommend that he’s full of shit, and that only diplomatically. His entire staff is against this, too.”
Given the threat to the case, that came as no comfort, but I nevertheless did as Tony suggested-I checked in with Ron Klesczewski at the command center, and used him and his by-now voluminous files to draw up the most careful and thoroughly researched warrant application of my career. If this thing was going to blow up in our faces, the police department was not going to be the one needing surgery. In the back of my mind, however, an unacknowledged bell kept sounding that, despite all my care, I was too tired to be doing such detail work.
I knew some of the hoopla was inevitable. Gail’s own candlelight march had kicked it off, and even it had been the mere overture to a media/politics/public-relations carnival that was going to play on the front page for weeks. What was unsettling me was James Dunn’s reaction. Although never a mellow man, he was powerfully self-restrained, and had never before left the boundaries of his office to meddle with police procedure on such a personal level, and at such a hysterical pitch.
He had also never made any bones about his dislike of sex-crime prosecutions, of how they hinged more on appearances and prejudice than on the solid evidence he cherished. As far as I could see, the combination of just such a case and an increasingly desperate reelection bid was apparently pushing him to some sort of edge.
Driving my fogged brain through the wordy intricacies of the affidavit, I kept wondering how the pressures on Dunn might affect his performance. Given his almost irrational behavior now, how safe was Gail’s case in his hands?
Such meanderings were interrupted by a patrolman sticking his head into the room, informing me that Dennis DeFlorio was on the radio. I crossed over to Dispatch. Dennis had taken over the discreet surveillance on Bob Vogel, stationing himself well out of sight in the trees ringing the trailer park. He was calling in on a special frequency, not commonly found on the recreational scanners around town. Nevertheless, he made all his references as oblique as possible.
“Joe, our boy just got a visit from Probation, accompanied by a sheriff ’s deputy.”
I checked my watch. It was late morning. I’d spoken to Helen Boisvert just a few hours earlier. She hadn’t mentioned she was scheduled to visit Bob Vogel. This was not good news.
“Why was the deputy there?”
“Pure babysitting-just Helen following the rules. He never left the car.”
“Anything happen between her and her client?”
“They weren’t happy with each other. She yelled something at him when she left, and he gave her the finger after she turned her back.”
“He still there?”
“Far as I know.” I turned to Maxine Paroddy, the day-shift dispatcher, suddenly alive to how thin the ice had become under Dunn’s-and our-feet. “Who do we have out in West Bratt, or nearby?”
She answered without hesitation. “Santos and Smith, in separate vehicles. I’ve got two other units close enough to the interstate to be there in under five minutes.”
“Get all four of them rolling and tell them to convene at the state police barracks down the road. Lights but no sirens till they get near, then go with the flow of traffic. I don’t want to spook this guy unless it’s already too late.”
I turned to Ron, who’d followed me across the hall. “Where’re Dunn and the chief holding their press conference?” “Upstairs-the boardroom.”
“Get Brandt and bring him here-now-but don’t tip off the reporters that something’s up.”
I turned back to the radio. “Dennis, you within sight of the trailer?”
“Negative. I couldn’t raise you on my portable, so I had to go to higher ground. Too many trees or something.”
More likely antiquated equipment, I thought. “Get back to your observation post. I’m sending you backup-four cars. They should be there in exactly eight minutes for the bust. You’re in command.”
There was a surprised silence. Dennis had obviously thought he was calling in with an informational tidbit, not a summons for reinforcements. “What’s the charge?”
“Driving without a license and operating an unregistered vehicle. But he may be armed. So be careful and do it by the numbers.”
DeFlorio gave a strictly neutral “10-4,” and returned to his post.
Maxine, operating the other radio, looked over her shoulder at me. “First two units are standing by at the barracks.”
I nodded but didn’t answer. After a minute’s silence, I yielded to impulse. “Call Parole and Probation and see if you can locate Boisvert. Maybe she’s back by now.”
Brandt walked in a moment later, looking grim. “What’s up?”
“I’m worried Boisvert might’ve tipped Vogel off. I’m sending a team in to arrest him for his vehicular violations. I figured that would hold him till the search warrant is issued.”
Brandt nodded. “Okay.”
Maxine added. “The second two units are in place, and Boisvert is still out.”