“The usual, sir. Following mob bosses who show up in our city and have to submit to their haranguing the department to the media, who then make us look like fools.” He tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but he was sure the irony was not lost on the chief.
Arnie laughed. “Yes, I saw your picture in the paper this morning. Was that your arm or Jake’s?”
“Mine, sir.”
“Don’t worry about it. The hoopla’s over. The man you were watching was here to put a deal together to buy a plot of land on Sauvie Island. He planned to build a casino here. Wanted to build a little Las Vegas.” Robert frowned and leaned closer to ask if that had happened. Arnie continued. “No, it didn’t happen. It’s rained here for the past two weeks. The area he wanted to see is flooded with about a foot of water. He’d been heard to say, ‘Who would want to live in this godforsaken place, much less want to visit here?’ He had his dinner Sunday night with his boys and now is probably back in sunny Las Vegas.”
“For once, thank goodness for our rain.” Robert sighed.
“Yes, that might be true, but a casino would have brought in jobs and money to the community.”
Robert schooled his expression. He was against legalizing gambling. It was bad enough they had their own little organized crime gang running the city.
“Jobs. Yes, we would have had to hire more men, build bigger jails, and then you would have another corrupt department to clean up.”
This time Robert didn’t bother to hide his sarcasm. “Yes, we can be thankful that it isn’t going to happen. One cleanup was enough. I never want to go through that again.”
Robert had just become a deputy when someone sent large envelopes to the governor, the Oregonian, and the Journal. Inside were pictures, dates, and the names of cops who were on the take. The photos were so incriminating that there was nothing left for the governor to do but initiate a city-wide sweep. There were still officers and high officials who were on trial.
“Robert, I want you to work with Stan on this missing persons case. He specifically asked for you. You file a report regularly. That’s all.” Chief Gilmore dismissed Robert.
Walking down the hall to his office, Robert glanced at the men working. He wondered what they thought when they weren’t buried in police procedures. He’d felt some of their gazes as he passed them, conversations that suddenly stopped or seemed to change.
After the chief called them all in for a meeting and said there were going to be changes, he’d been apprehensive. He liked the chief and thought he did a good job. Then half the department disappeared. Older officers retired early or asked for a transfer. Some were indicted with criminal charges and the few left, like Jake Monroe, his friend, walked softly around some of those who remained. Not all of them agreed with the chief but knew their jobs were a thin line from being terminated.
Chapter 2
“There are wind warnings in the Gorge today. All semis will not be allowed to drive through the Gorge to or from Portland.” The weather reporter went on to detail the accidents along the highway. Robert switched off the car radio. He could see the trees along the streets bending with the onslaught of wind and rain, as he pulled into the station parking lot. He gauged the distance to be a hundred feet from his car to the door of the station and he could barely see it. With his briefcase tucked under his coat and his hat set snugly on his head, he opened the door, locked it, and then slammed it shut as he ran to the front overhang. Another officer held the door open.
“Mornin’, sir. It sure is a wild one today.”
“Mornin’,” Robert responded.
Once in the safety of the building, he muttered, “Damn rain. Some days I wonder why I live here.” He shook his hat and brushed as much of the water off his coat as he could. The smell of wet wool and cologne permeated the lobby.
“I know what you mean. I had to drive in from Larch Mountain. I was one of the officers questioning the tree farm owners, where the Stevens might have bought their greenery.” The officer continued to talk as they both walked toward the squad room.
“Did you hear anything? Get a good lead anywhere?” The noise of typewriters and the ring of phones forced Robert to raise his voice over the din.
“We talked to one possibility.” The officer stopped in front of the door with Robert’s name stenciled on the glass. “There is a Stevens Tree Farm up there. The woman said a family came and purchased some greenery. The youngest daughter asked her mother if they were related. The mother responded there are a lot of Stevens in the area, but they weren’t related.” I just made note of it. The owner said she remembered the car being a red and white station wagon. There was a man and another girl who did not get out.”
“That’s a great lead. Please make sure I get a copy of it.” He clapped the man’s shoulder and went into his office.
The pipes in the radiator rattled and banged as they heated up. He moved the coat rack closer to the heater, hoping some of the dampness on his coat would dry before he had to go out again.
The door burst open, and one of the rookie officers slid to a halt in front of his desk.
“Important, I hope.” Robert raised his eyebrows and stared pointedly at the open door.
“Oh, sorry, sir,” the young man gasped, waving the paper under Robert’s nose. “I just got this call, sir. I think we have a good lead.”
Robert managed to snatch the moving target from the young man and read the message.
“A gas station attendant sold gas to a family matching the description of the Stevens family. The station is along US Highway Thirty between Portland and The Dalles. The gas was charged on an oil company credit card.” Robert checked the address and phone number written on the bottom of the lead card.
Another crank call? he thought. The writeup in the paper reported the police were searching in the Larch Mountain area, which was in the general direction of the gas station. He looked at the slip of paper for a moment, then rubbed his fingers over it as if suddenly a genie would appear and give him the answer. He reached for the phone. Every lead got a response.
“Do you want me to follow up on that lead, sir?” the young man’s expression was hopeful and excited about the lead.
“Harry, I think you did an excellent job of getting this information to me. I appreciate it. This is something I should look at personally. This could be the break we need.”
Harry, torn between pride in bringing the lead directly to Robert and wanting to make the call himself tipped forward then back on his feet.
“I hear phones ringing off the hook out there. I need you on duty and making sure those leads are brought to me.” Robert gave him an encouraging smile and nodded toward the door.
Harry turned and strutted out of sight. Since the cleanup, a new group of officers had been hired. Some had the gift of intuition, others didn’t have any gift or clue. He had to deal with them all.
Jake Monroe tapped on the glass and entered his office. Jake was a fellow detective and, for all intents and purposes, they were partners. Jake came into the department just after the cleanup. He’d transferred from the Seattle area. Robert liked him. Over the past years, they’d grown close, like his younger brother, only closer. Jake and his wife, Lorene, stood beside him after the death of his wife and son. When he’d been so angry, he’d wanted to take his gun and shoot up any organized crime bosses’ house and family. Jake and Lorene had taken him in. He’d talk to Jake for long hours until he fell asleep on their couch.