MacAuley flipped his hand open, as if throwing a card into play. "The guys on the street will go with whoever has the product. You replace the wholesaler, the rest of the organization falls into line."
"If you know who and where the dealers are. This isn't Brooklyn or Manhattan. This is the North Country." He pointed, and they all stared at the big map, three counties and a state park the size of Massachusetts splashed out in pastels against the stucco wall. "How the hell do you find the dealers in a territory this size? Not even counting the difficulties of being a Spanish-speaking alien in one of the least ethnically diverse parts of America."
There was a long pause as they all stared at the map. Hadley thought about how she, moving into a town she had only known as a visitor, found a hair-dresser, a second-hand clothing store, the day-old bakery outlet. She had to ask around. It didn't seem a likely technique for would-be drug lords.
"Maybe someone's switched sides?" The chief and MacAuley turned their attention to Flynn, who looked surprised that he had spoken out loud. "I mean, say you have the established distributor," he went on. "It works a lot like any other company, right? A couple CEOs at the top make a lot of money, a few middle managers make decent money, and the rest of them are living from hand to mouth. Then some competition shows up. Maybe one of the little guys decides there's a lot more potential for advancement if he takes what he knows and starts working for his bosses' rivals."
MacAuley shook his head. "The little guys know whoever shows up and gets the stuff out of the back of the truck. They don't have the big picture."
"Kevin's got the right idea, though." The chief reached for the coffee mug on the table beside him. "A turncoat makes the scenario more feasible." He took a long pull, then sat cradling the mug in his hands. "The part that doesn't fit is the timing of the murders. One in March, one roughly a year ago, and one older than that. If it's intergang rivalry, it's the slowest conflict in history."
MacAuley rubbed his lips with two fingers and nodded.
"Okay, send everything we've got to the First District Anti-Gang Task Force. See if something rings a bell with them."
"You got it," MacAuley said.
"Eric, you're continuing with background checks. See if you can get anything out of the CADEA."
"Yep."
"Everybody else is on patrol. I've called in Duane and Tim to handle the radar guns, so I want the rest of you very visible in town and in Cossayuharie. I want the community to know we're on the job, looking out for them."
"What about the migrant workers?" Urquhart asked.
The chief raised his eyebrows. "What about them?"
"Well, if we think some of 'em might be moving pot, shouldn't we round 'em up and fingerprint 'em? Send the info back to Mexico and see if anything pops up? They got some sort of Mexican FBI, don't they?"
Hadley could see the chief trying not to roll his eyes. "Yeah, they do. It's the Agencia Federal de Investigación. However, we can't just go rounding up migrants because we've been tossing around theories in the bullpen."
"Don't see why in th' hell not." Urquhart crossed his arms.
"Because nonresident aliens in the United States are protected by the same constitutional criminal protections as the rest of us," Hadley said. "Oberlinski v. United States." Jerk.
The chief cracked a sideways smile. "Glad to see you're paying attention at the Academy, Officer Knox."
She felt her face heat up.
"On a happier note, I was checking the funds for the police basketball association, and there's still money left for this year." The chief looked somewhere over Hadley's head, his face bland. "Since the PBA was meant to give kids something constructive to do-"
"You mean, keep 'em from knocking over convenience stores," MacAuley said.
"-I've decided to use the remaining money to fund some campers at the rec department's summer camp. I've already given the director enrollment info for two kids; if any of you know a family that could benefit from this, have ' em call Gail Jones at her office at the town hall." He picked up his folders and his coffee cup and slid off the table. "That's all, folks."
Hadley sat, frozen, while chairs scraped and shoes slapped and belts jingled. Something bumped against her, and she looked up to see Eric McCrea. "You feeling okay?" He squinted at her. "You look kind of feverish."
She nodded. "Yeah," she said. "I mean, no." She stood up, forcing Eric to scramble out of her way. "Excuse me."
She caught up with the chief right before he entered his office. "Chief," she said. "About the summer camp thing-"
"Oh, yeah. That's right." He glanced at the clock. "The drop-off is at the middle school. If you hurry, you can get your kids there and be back in about forty-five minutes. You can work through lunch to make it up."
"Sir." Her voice sounded strangled. "I can't accept-"
He looked down at her. "Officer Knox. This department is spending a good chunk of change on your training. I count a few hundred bucks to safeguard that investment as money well spent."
"I'm handling my home situation fine. I don't need charity." Now she sounded like a bitch. It was his fault. She didn't ask to be put in this situation.
He stepped into his office. Beckoned her in. Nudged the door half shut. He dropped his voice. "Look, Knox-Hadley. When Noble's mother started to wander away from her house at odd hours, we wired her doors with a security alarm and checked in on her four times a day. When Harlene's husband, Harold, got sick and had to go down to the Albany medical center twice a week, we drove him. This isn't an insurance office or a restaurant. We have to trust each other with our lives. And that means we take care of our own."
There was a knock, and the deputy chief stuck his head in the door. "Hey," he said. "You got a minute?"
The chief looked at MacAuley a long moment, an expression on his face Hadley couldn't make out. Then he nodded. "Sure." He turned back to Hadley. "Go ahead. When you get back, you'll patrol with me."
Hell. She'd look like an antisocial loner if she continued to protest. She tried to say thank you, but she couldn't get the words out. She settled for jerking her head up and down before fleeing the office. Out in the hall, she heard MacAuley ask, "What was that all about?"
"Oh, just touching base," the chief said. "What was it you wanted?"
She took off before she could start to feel grateful.