Robert B. Parker’s Buried Secrets

Forty-Six

Jesse walked into the Helton PD’s station. The officer at the desk took a long time to notice him from behind the screen of bulletproof glass, and even then he didn’t go out of his way to greet Jesse. He finished scribbling on some paper, checked his phone, looked at Jesse, looked at his phone again, then pressed a button to activate a speaker.

“What,” he said.

Jesse pulled his badge. “I need to talk to your chief.”

The desk officer thought about that for a few seconds, then pressed the button again. “Wait here,” he said.

He heaved himself off his stool and disappeared into the back of the station. Jesse had to admit, maybe Gary Armistead had a point about putting a barrier between the Paradise PD and the public.

Ten minutes later, the desk officer returned. He looked at the surface in front of him like it might have changed in his absence, then checked his phone again. After a moment, he glanced up at Jesse as if surprised to see him.

Jesse smiled and waved.

“You can go back,” the cop said. He pressed a different button and the door to the back unlocked. Jesse caught it just before the buzzer ended.

Jesse found his way through the hall into the office of Helton Chief of Police Bill Fawcett.

Fawcett got up and shook Jesse’s hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said with a grin that said he wasn’t sorry at all. He pointed Jesse to a chair.

Jesse and Fawcett didn’t really get along. Fawcett, like Jesse, was a refugee from a big city and a big department — Boston, in Fawcett’s case — but he’d come to Helton looking for a way to retire while still earning a paycheck. Helton was a little collection of villages along the 1A that grew into one place as they got bigger, but still never quite coalesced into a town. It was mostly quiet, as far as Jesse knew, but he wondered how much of that was because Fawcett didn’t put much effort into the job. Unlike Jesse, he believed police work should be low-impact. And he never looked for a second explanation if the first one fit.

They’d spoken on the phone about Tate. Helton had given him a glowing recommendation when Jesse was checking Tate’s references.

Now Jesse wanted to look Fawcett in the eye and see if the story remained the same.

“So you wanted to talk about Derek, huh?”

Jesse nodded.

“How’s he working out over there?”

Jesse thought about that. “How do you think?”

Fawcett kept a straight face for another ten seconds, then burst out laughing. Well, Jesse thought, that didn’t take long.

“Sorry,” Fawcett said, wheezing. “Sorry. I heard about the café owner shutting you guys out of the restaurant. Figured Tate was being his usual charming self.”

“So he wasn’t the really outstanding young officer you told me about?”

“Is that what I said? Well. You know how it is.”

“Let’s say I don’t,” Jesse said. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“He never did anything illegal here,” Fawcett said quickly. “I want you to know that right off the bat.”

“You’ll forgive me for thinking that’s a pretty low bar for a police officer.”

“Aw, hell, Jesse, you know what I mean. He never hurt anyone. Or if he did, he didn’t leave any marks and he didn’t do it on video. Never had any complaints that we had to investigate. He did the job. Far as I could tell, anyway.”

Jesse took a deep breath. “But you didn’t want him here anyway.”

“Kid’s wound pretty tight,” Fawcett said. “Got into a couple shoving matches with some of the other guys. We’re a pretty close bunch here. He didn’t fit in well. Couldn’t take a joke. You know he wanted to give himself a nickname? Wanted us to call him Slate. You can’t give yourself a goddamn nickname.”

“Why do you think he’s like that? Why so angry?”

Fawcett shrugged. “Who the hell knows. I thought it might be PTSD — he’s a vet, you know — but I looked up his record. You know he never even saw combat? He was on the supply chain. He loaded trucks.”

“But he really wants to be a fighter,” Jesse said. “He wants to prove he’s tough.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe. Maybe he’s just an asshole.”

“What else happened?”

“Nothing. He just didn’t fit in.”

Jesse waited.

“Seriously, Jesse, nothing. I swear.”

Jesse waited a little more.

“Okay,” Fawcett said. “There might have been something else. This kid we brought into custody. He’d been tagging police cars. Not even gang shit. Just graffiti. You know. ‘ACAB.’ ‘Fuck the police.’ That sort of thing.”

“And?”

“Tate made the arrest. Kid fell down the front steps on his way into the station. Broke his front teeth.”

Jesse rubbed his face with both hands.

“What did you do with Tate?”

“What do you think? I pulled Tate aside, told him he wasn’t working out here. I didn’t want to have to write him up, put a black mark on his record. So I told him to find another job and I’d give him a good recommendation.”

Fawcett’s whole face turned into a shit-eating grin.

“And then, luckily, I found this self-righteous SOB who was willing to take him off my hands. It all worked out.”

“What happened to the kid?”

“We paid for his dental work, sent him home to his parents. No charges. No lawsuit. It worked out fine.”

“It wasn’t on video?”

“We don’t use body cameras here. And the camera out front was glitching that day.”

“Yeah. I’ll just bet.”

“Oh, fuck you, Stone. You think I should keep evidence that can be used against me? Against my guys? I’m not that stupid. What would you do?”

“I’d like to say I wouldn’t have a cop who’d commit crimes in my department. But you made a liar out of me on that.”

Fawcett laughed. “As soon as he left the town limits, he stopped being my problem. Guess you should have checked his references a little more carefully.”

Jesse stood up slowly. He leaned forward, placing both hands on the desk, looking down on Fawcett. The other chief recoiled, his face going pale.

“Tate went after one of my officers. Put him in the hospital.”

“Ah, hell, Stone. Sorry. I didn’t know. I never thought he would have gone after a cop.”

“But you were fine with him going after anyone else.”

Jesse glared down at him. Fawcett’s hands trembled a little on the desk.

After a moment, Jesse decided it wasn’t worth it. “Do you know where I can find him? Any friends? Any places he hangs out?”

“No,” Fawcett said quickly. “No, sorry, I don’t. I’d tell you if I did.”

Jesse nodded and turned to go.

Fawcett called after him at the door, defiant now that Jesse was leaving.

“Hey. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same thing, Stone. There’s us and them. That’s all.”

“I’m not part of your ‘us,’ ” Jesse said. “At least, I hope like hell I’m not.”