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“Matt, what will be dangerous is if you don’t do a better job of controlling that son of yours,” the cop behind the desk said.
“He’s not the one beating up his girlfriend,” Matt shot back.
I noticed that Earl wore four gold stars on his collar, and his nameplate readChief Pollock, the same last name as that of the officer I was supposed to meet this morning. Obviously, nepotism was alive and well in small-town America.
“I don’t care what he thinks of Gibson,” the chief continued. “Boone can’t go around accusing people of things he knows nothing about. I talked to Loretta myself, and she assured me that she ran into a door, and Gibson wasn’t even home at the time.”
I sat and pretended not to listen, but the mention of Boone’s name had me craning for every word.
“Earl, even you’re not stupid enough to believe that,” Matt replied.
Those didn’t seem like wise words to be throwing at the chief of police.
“Well, he may think that, but the doc’s statement and Gibson’s time card at the distillery say different. Devlin did a proper investigation. You tell Boone he can be sued for libel if he keeps it up.”
The chief sighed. “I know our sons have never gotten along, but Boone has to have some respect for the uniform, or it’s gonna cost him, and you can take that to the bank.”
“This isn’t over,” Matt said, walking past me out the door. His cursory glance and nod toward me still didn’t indicate recognition.
The chief mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like “Fuck you too,” before he picked up his glasses.
I stood.
Seeming to notice me for the first time, the chief asked, “May I help you, Miss?”
I added a smile to my face. “I’m supposed to meet Officer Pollock here.”
Narrowed eyes joined his smile. “Really? Is Devlin expecting you?”
“Yes, sir,” I said confidently.
My ex-roommate had dated a cop for a few weeks once, and we’d both learned several things. Rule number one, polite respect is essential.
“He’s out on a call. Might be a while. Anything I can help you with, Miss…” He let the unfinished sentence hang in the air, just as his son had, with a gaze that dared me to finish it with my name.
“Angela,” I filled in. “No, he asked me to stop by.”
“Is it anything urgent?”
“No, sir.”
The chief rubbed his chin. “Like I said, it will be a while. The coffee’s not great, but you’re welcome to wait, if you like.”
“Thank you.” I wrung my hands. Delaying again was a risk…
He motioned to the corner. “Have decaf, if you prefer.”
After a quick call to Clara letting her know I’d be starting late, I opened the browser on my phone and settled in for the wait. The chief had been too kind when he said the coffee wasn’t great, but I sipped it anyway.
The third phone call the chief took got my attention.
“Jeff, I know it’s outside our jurisdiction, but Devlin needs to follow this up wherever it takes him…” He paused to listen. “Well, Sheriff, if you’d investigated like we’d asked, we wouldn’t need to visit Peterville, now would we? We’re talking about Lee’s murder here. He was my nephew, and if Dev needs to poke around in your backyard, I’m gonna let him, and thank you for your concern.” He slammed down the phone.
I squirmed at the wordmurder. After the theories Callie had mentioned for Lee’s disappearance, it made my skin crawl that the chief thought he was dead.
“Fuckin’ bureaucrats,” he mumbled just loud enough for me to hear.
Earl Pollock had a short fuse.
