Chapter 21
Savvy
“I can do that, you know,” Brenda offers, poking her head into the roll-call room.
I’ve set up shop in here because of the two large whiteboards. I needed a way to outline what I have on Ben’s murder, so I could see it all laid out at once instead of flipping through the pages of my notepad to put all the details together.
The conference table is bigger than my desk too, so I can spread out my notes and reports without getting anything lost in stacks of other paperwork waiting for me.
This is now my war room.
“It’s okay,” I tell Brenda as I’m transcribing some of my notes from the pad to the whiteboard. “It helps me to go through this process.”
“Okay, if you say so. Your father just got here, by the way. He’s talking to KC in the lobby.”
“Good, can you tell him I’m in here?”
I went looking for him last night, but no one was home, and my call went straight to voicemail. I left him a message I needed to speak with him as soon as possible. I’m conflicted, I’m still angry at him, but I also need him to make a push on the extra funding with the county commission.
In addition, I need to talk to him about the things that came out of the last interview with Sanchuk, and that’s the part I dread the most. I have a hard time believing my father would’ve condoned any of the things Sanchuk copped to, but I need to hear it from him.
“Will do. I’m popping out to pick up some lunch at the diner, can I get you something?”
I called Nate last night when I got home around ten. I’d thought about going back to his place to sleep, but I really need to do a few loads of laundry and collect some things that need to be dropped off at the dry cleaners. Maybe I’ll have a chance tomorrow.
Anyway, Nate mentioned he’d been at my place and had a look around. He talked about going into Spokane this morning to hammer down some prices for building supplies he would need. Something about setting up a contractor account so he could get better rates.
He was very sweet and apologized he wouldn’t be around to bring me lunch today.
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind picking me up a club sandwich on rye and a large ice tea, half-sweet, please.”
The ice tea at the diner is the real deal, made with steeped tea and lemon, and is delicious, except for the fact they usually put in too much of that syrup to sweeten it. Hence my half-order.
“Sure. Piece of pie for dessert?”
It’s on my lips to say no. Then I remember my pathetic dinner last night, that consisted of an expired packet of ramen noodles I found in the back of the cupboard in our little kitchen, when I went digging for food at eight thirty.
I can have the pie for dinner.
“Yes, to the pie. Whatever is on offer today.”
Brenda mock salutes me before she backs out of the room.
I take a couple of steps back from the whiteboards to check out what I’ve put up there so far.
A mugshot of Ben from a drunk and disorderly we brought him in for several months ago is in the center of the board on the left.
Underneath it I stuck a few pictures the State Patrol crime scene team took at the site.
One image is of the blood-covered rock that was found in the underbrush several feet from where Ben’s body was discovered, where it was likely tossed after the attack.
Another is of half a boot print, found in the damp soil partially underneath a fern.
The only boot print recovered, which leads me to believe some effort was made to erase any possible incriminating evidence.
Unfortunately, the imprint appears to have come from a tactical boot.
The type is widely worn, including by most first responders.
It wouldn’t be the first time someone inadvertently left evidence behind at a crime scene. It happens.
We’re in the process of taking prints from all personnel on scene for comparison, but it’s tedious and until we can confirm either way if the print belongs to one of us, I’m keeping the picture up on the board.
The one other item found at the scene that could become important evidence, once we have something to compare it to, is a small tuft of fabric stuck to a bramble bush less than three feet from the victim. We’ve already ruled out it came from anything the victim was wearing.
I’ve drawn lines out from the victim’s image, connecting him to locations and any related social connections.
For instance, home would connect him to Wanda and Dozer, as well as a handful of other neighbors on the street.
The Kerrigan Pub is another frequent location, but the list of names there is much longer.
The diner is on there, although reportedly he only really talked to the waitstaff.
I’ve also added the trucking company he worked for prior to being let go and the few people on staff he would have had contact with. Long-haul trucking is a solitary job.
My objective is to throw everything I know on the board and start eliminating possibilities.
It’s frustrating because the ones with the best motive did not have opportunity.
Both Wanda and Dozer had pretty solid alibis for the window of time the ME concluded he was killed in.
Wanda’s sister and husband vouched for Wanda, and Dozer’s cell phone pinged off the same tower from the Wednesday he said he left until the morning we were called to the Rogers’s house.
Besides, he’d had a buddy there to help him fix the roof. He was accounted for.
“Putting it on the big board? Is it helping?” my father asks as he walks in.
“Not yet, but I hope it will.”
Dad is actually the one who taught me laying out a case on the whiteboard sometimes helps you see the forest through the trees when you get stuck.
I turn to face him.
“You wanted to see me,” he reminds me.
He’s standing on the opposite side of the conference table, illustrating the divide I feel between us.
“Yeah. Would you mind closing the door? And take a seat.”
Five minutes later he jumps to his feet, his face a worrisome shade of purple as a vein pops on his forehead.
“What?” he barks.
“Dad, you need to take it easy.”
“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, Savannah,” he indicates with barely contained anger as he braces his knuckles on the table.
“Jeff Sanchuk has been making false traffic stops to pilfer money off tourists. He’s been extorting people and businesses in town for free meals, free goods, or whatever. Some of the behavior has been corroborated by other deputies working with him.”
“Under your nose?”
Damn, that stings, even if he’s right.
“And under yours,” I return, not feeling good about it.
If I wasn’t a hundred-percent sure to begin with, I’m absolutely positive now my father had no idea. His only culpability is the same as mine; complacency.
“Tell me that bastard is still here in the holding cell so I can have a word with him.”
“He was moved to the jail at the county courthouse, Dad. And you’re not going to throw your weight around to try to get in to see him either. You’re going to leave it to me,” I state firmly.
From the mutinous look on his face, I can tell he’s not on board with that idea. Too bad for him, that’s the way it’s going to be.
“You know what you can do for me? Get going on the extra funding for the department, so I can plug some holes and start building a cohesive unit. In addition to the two deputies, I need a properly trained detective, preferably with plenty of experience, because I need to focus on getting this department running like a well-oiled machine. Can you do that?”
He nods, a serious expression on his face.
“I’ll call in some favors; consider it done.”
“Good, because I’ve got Brenda and Hugo already actively recruiting,” I confess, which makes my dad chuckle.
“You never did have patience,” he points out.
“I didn’t get that from a stranger,” I return.
A brief silence falls over the room before Dad speaks again, in a different tone this time.
“Are we okay?”
I don’t like the vulnerability I hear in his voice, but I’m not ready to just brush my feelings aside.
“Give me time. I’m sure we’ll get there.”
He seems to mull that over before he asks, “Will you be there Friday?”
“That’s the plan.”
He nods and turns his back, reaching for the door.
“Love you, Toots.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Nate
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I drop the pineapple I’d been testing for ripeness and turn to find Savvy behind me holding a basket with a couple of bananas and a few containers of plain Greek yogurt.
“Dinner?” I ask, pointing at her haul.
“Don’t judge. I need a few quick and easy things to grab for lunch and dinner that aren’t fast food or swimming with preservatives.” She sighs, patting her stomach. “My body is revolting.”
“There should be good food at the cookout tonight,” I point out.
That’s why I stopped at the grocery store after dropping Tate at school. I needed ingredients for the Bombay salad I offered to make, and I was out of the dates I need for my brownies.
“About that…” She grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I’ve got a full day with meetings scheduled well into the afternoon. I’m just swamped.”
I’m disappointed, but not really surprised. The last time I saw her was when I brought her lunch on Tuesday. We’ve texted once or twice, mostly me checking in on her, and her letting me know she’d be working late or was out of the office.
Well, if she’s not going to come tonight, I may as well capitalize on this chance meeting in the produce department.
Walking up to her, I bend down to drop a kiss on her lips. She acts embarrassed when one of the baristas from Strange Brew walks by and gives her an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
“Oh great. It’s gonna be all over town now,” she mutters.
A little offended, I take a step back. “And that’s a problem? Because if there are bounds I’m overstepping, I’d like to know.”
“What? No, I don’t mean it that way,” she hurries to clarify, grabbing my arm to pull me to a quiet corner.
“It’s just…there are already rumblings in town I’m falling down on the job.
There’s a lot of pressure to get both murders solved, one of my own deputies is in jail, my department is falling apart, and the mayor is not happy he had to wait for thirty minutes for one of my deputies to show up at the scene of a fender bender that took out the rear bumper of his Mercedes GLS,” she rattles. “So now he’s on my case.”
“And…you’re worried being seen with me might be considered a distraction from where your focus should be?” I make a wild guess.
“Sort of.” She winces as she says it, offering me a guilty smile.
I stroke the pad of my thumb under her eye where dark rings betray a lack of sleep.
“Am I?” I ask her softly.
“Are you what?”
“A distraction.”
“Only of the very best kind,” she returns with a warm look in her eyes.
“Good, because I’ve left you alone these past few days, figuring you were juggling a ton, but I’m starting to wonder if that was a mistake.
It doesn’t look like you slept much, and you’re obviously not eating right.
” I rest my hands on her shoulders and give her a gentle shake.
“So, here’s the thing; you’re not going to do anyone any favors by running yourself in the ground.
I realize you have an important job, but you’re allowed to have a life too.
You need balance, and you don’t have any. ”
“I have balance,” she sputters.
“Savvy…your house has the personality of a hotel room. You have a massive backyard but I bet you haven’t spent any time out there. You don’t even have a chair out there. You don’t own a single throw pillow or candle, your closet is full of uniforms, and there is dust on your remote control.”
She barks out an incredulous laugh. “Boy, you really snooped around my house, didn’t you?”
“Snooped? I opened doors so I could take measurements, it’s not like I went through your drawers. Besides, there was nothing to see.”
Her eyes drift over my shoulder and I can tell she’s upset. I guess I wouldn’t appreciate someone coming in and analyzing my life either. But I care about her, and from what I’ve seen, she’s barely lived and buried herself in work since her fiancé died, which is such a waste.
“Look, Savannah…all I’m saying is, you’re not a robot, and even those need to recharge their batteries every so often. No one can fault you for that. We all need rest, we all need nourishment, we all need moments of downtime, so we can function better when we’re called on.”
She comes willingly when I pull her against me and wrap her in my arms. Her head falls heavily against my chest. I duck my head and brush the shell of her ear with my lips before whispering, “Just come tonight. Eat some good food, have a drink or two, and then come home with me. I’ll help you sleep.
I’m willing to bet you’ll be far more productive tomorrow. ”
She moans into my shirt. “You make it sound so reasonable.”
I chuckle. “That’s because I’m right and you know it.”
She tilts her head back and studies me.
“I can’t make any promises what time I’ll be there.”
“I’ll wait for you,” I promise with a shrug.
“All ri—”
My lips are on hers before she has a chance to finish what she was saying.
I groan into her mouth when she presses her body against me.
There is something deliciously illicit about making out with a woman in uniform against the organic root vegetable bin.
My hand is just sliding down over the curve of her ass when we’re rudely interrupted by a fellow shopper.
“Get a room, already!”