Ten minutes passed, but finally Captain Grayson came through the door, looking irritated. He noticed Damien in the waiting room. “I thought that’s what the note said. Damien Underwood. Good to see you.” He held out a hand for Damien to shake, then gestured for him to follow. “I’m glad you’re here. Frank is out of control. Completely out of control. Can you talk some sense into him? Yeah, we all understood why the guy might’ve been crushed. High school’s hard enough and then you grow up and your wife leaves you for the principal… What I’m trying to say is that we, and by we, I mean the department, have been extremely tolerant.”
“Well, the good news is he hasn’t done anything crazy like this in, what, three years?”
“I’ve had it up to here. Here.” He held a hand over his head as they rounded the corner into his bleak, white-walled office. “I’m assuming you heard he filed a missing person report on Angela?”
“Yes.”
“Sometimes he disappears, Damien. Right in the middle of a shift. He’s probably a closet smoker. I don’t know. I’ve talked to him about it and sometimes it gets better, sometimes not.”
“What about lately? Has he been disappearing lately?”
“Lately he’s been making a rookie’s life miserable just for the fun of it. So you see what I’m dealing with here.” The captain plunged into his chair. “What can you do for me?” His expression filled with dread. “Or has Frank done something else? No, please. Please. Don’t tell me he’s done something else.”
Damien took a seat that wasn’t offered. The chair looked twenty years old, the vinyl ripped and repaired with duct tape. “I’m not here to talk about Frank.”
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Sorry.” Grayson gave a vague smile. “It’s just that last time you were in my office, what, four years ago or so, Frank was freaking out and you’d come to talk through some things with me. Get him grounded again.”
“Please tell me Frank doesn’t know about that.”
“I never mentioned a word to him.”
“Yes, well, I probably overreacted. You and I have known each other for a long time. Our sons played T-ball together. That first year after Frank’s divorce, when he showed up on her doorstep on their anniversary, it startled me. Luckily he hasn’t made that a yearly tradition.” Damien grinned.
“So it hasn’t struck you that he’s acting strangely? I’m sensing some anger issues lately.”
Damien tried not to pause. “When is Frank not strange?”
Captain Grayson snorted. “You got that right. Love the man, but could kill him too, you know?” He leaned forward, his elbows against a few folders spread across his desk. “So what’s on your mind?”
“I wanted to talk to you about this Web site Listen to Yourself.” Damien pulled out a pen and a notepad from his briefcase and set them on the desk, then froze as he noticed the captain’s demeanor had shifted in less than a second. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s that for?”
“Oh, I can’t figure out how to use the recorder on my phone.”
“Put that away. Now.”
Damien quickly slipped them back into his briefcase. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“I’m not offended, but I don’t talk to the press.” Grayson studied him. “You’re not the press, are you? I mean, I know you work at the paper, but you’re not an actual reporter, right?”
“Believe it or not, I do fall under that category. Usually I do the editorial and opinion pieces.”
“Usually?”
“I’m trying my hand at investigative reporting.”
“Oh, brother,” Grayson said, falling back in his chair, looking like the words put him into permanent exhaustion. “I would’ve never let you through had I known that.”
“I only want to get a few quotes-”
“That’s the problem. You reporters just want a few quotes, and then you take what I say totally out of context and use it against me, the department.”
“Please give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“My lieutenants handle these sorts of things. I can get you in touch with whoever is on call to talk to the media.”
Damien tried an easy smile. “I just have a few simple questions. This Web site, I think it has the potential to cause a lot of trouble, and I’m wondering what the department is doing to investigate it.”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“We’re off the record here, okay?”
Damien nodded.
“We don’t have enough resources to chase down something like this. We don’t have a cyber crime unit or anything of that nature here. It’s Marlo, for crying out loud. If we started with this Web site, who knows what else would happen. We’d have to start chasing down people who pirate movies.”
“But isn’t it illegal? I mean, it’s against the law to eavesdrop on people’s private conversations.”
“Yes, it is. Unless you’re doing a wiretap or something like that.”
“We’ve already seen what it’s done to neighbors.”
“That’s one instance.”
“I’ve heard of something else.”
The captain threw his hands up. “I don’t want to hear about it. Look, I think this is a perfect thing for you guys at the paper to go investigate. You like to stir up trouble and this is trouble. My preference would be to ignore it, and it’ll probably go away. But that’s just me. We’ve had no official complaints about the Web site, so I’m not pursuing any kind of investigation at this time.”
Damien blinked. The conversation he had with Frank the night before blazed through his mind, that the department was investigating. “You’re saying the department is not investigating it at all?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
He had just caught Frank in lie number two.
Gavin stood next to Frank on the front porch of the Shaws’ home, chewing a fingernail and staring at Frank.
“Stop looking at me,” Frank whispered. “Just play this cool. Do you even have that mode? Cool, collected, calm? Any of that ringing a bell with you? We’re the police. We’re not the ones who are supposed to be nervous.”
“We’re not supposed to be here,” Gavin said.
“Yes. Your expression is capturing that perfectly.” Frank pushed the doorbell again. “Don’t you have a pair of dark shades or something you can slide over those terrified eyeballs?”
“I don’t want to get caught.”
“Gavin, chill out. We’re not stealing secret documents here. We’re only doing some minor investigative work. It’s not sink or swim. It’s more like an arm floaties kind of situation.” Frank cut his gaze sideways to see if any of this was registering with the kid. Didn’t look like it. “And you can be thankful we’re not at Angela’s house.”
That seemed to bring fast relief. He smiled and nodded just as the door opened. Barely opened.
Peering through the tiny crack allowed by the chain lock, an eye blinked at them. “Yes?”
“Mrs. Shaw, Officer Merret here. I need to speak with you.”
“Why?”
“It’s about the incident.” That was vague enough.
The wide-eyed stare vanished into the darkness, and soon enough the door opened wider. She stood in what looked like pajamas, grasping the side of the door, unwilling to do much more than show her face. A dark purplish-green bruise peeked from beneath her bangs. “Yes? What is it?”
Frank carefully chose his words. He was crossing the line. Just barely. But crossing nevertheless. He had to be careful to not say he was representing the department. “This Web site that your conversation was posted on, how did it get there?”
“I told you, like I told my husband, I don’t know. I didn’t put it there. Is that what you think? That I put it there?” Her voice crawled with panic.
“No, no. I think someone else is doing it,” Frank said.
Gavin nodded.