The Last Child

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Hunt stood in the Chief’s office. Flags graced the corners of the room, and on one wall hung pictures of his boss with various state functionaries: the lieutenant governor, a former senator, a two-bit actor who looked vaguely familiar. Photos of his children were spaced along the credenza. The local paper sat on the desk. So did the papers from Wilmington, Charlotte, and Raleigh. Johnny’s picture was on the front page of each of them. Face paint and feathers, blood and bone.

A wild Indian.

The Chief filled his chair, tilted back, hands crossed on his stomach. Anger carved deep lines at the corners of his eyes. He was tired, with unwashed hair that glistened on his forehead. The county sheriff, a lean man in his sixties, with cracked skin on his knuckles and leathery bags beneath his eyes, stood against the wall. He’d been sheriff for almost thirty years and was as feared for his temper as he was respected for his abilities. He studied Hunt with dark, impenetrable eyes and looked no happier than the Chief.

Hunt refused to flinch.

“Do you have any idea,” the Chief began, “how many people work for this department? How many officers, how many trainees?”

“I am well aware.”

The Chief gestured at the sheriff. “And in the Sheriff’s Department? Any idea?”

“A lot, I’m sure.”

“And how do you think those people would feel if we let you root around in their personnel files? Their confidential personnel files?”

“I have reason to believe-”

“We’ve seen your reason.” The sheriff’s voice cut through the room. He shifted but kept his shoulder on the wall, his thumbs in his heavy, black belt. “And neither one of us can tell what that word says. Maybe it’s “cop,” but maybe it’s something else. Maybe this kid is mistaken.”

The Chief leaned forward. “Or full of it.”

“Or crazy as a shithouse rat.”

Hunt stared at the sheriff. “I respectfully disagree.”

“Are you some kind of expert now?” The Chief thumped a finger on the newspapers. “Just look at him.”

The photograph damned the boy to ready judgment: feathers, wild hair, Tiffany frozen in terror, and his eyes shocked to utter blankness.

“I understand how that looks, but this is a smart kid. If he thinks he saw a cop, there’s a reason for it.”

The sheriff interrupted. “The boy claims he made it up. You said so yourself. Now, that’s all I really need to hear.”

“He’s worried that DSS will take him away from the only family he has left. He thinks a cop was involved with Burton Jarvis.” Hunt could not contain his frustration. “He’s terrified. He’s protecting himself.”

“Do you have any other reason, beyond this kid, to think that one of ours, a cop for God’s sake, might be involved in this unholy mess?”

“Tiffany Shore’s handcuffs were police issue.”

“Found at any decent surplus store,” the sheriff said.

“It’s strong circumstantial evidence, especially in connection with Johnny’s observations.”

“We’re done discussing that boy’s observations,” the Chief said.

“Is there anything that links Tiffany Shore’s cuffs to either department?” The sheriff’s features barely moved. “Serial numbers? Anything?”

“No.”

“Anything at the scene? In Jarvis’s past? On his property?”

“No. But at the very least, the kid has identified a dangerous predator who has so far avoided detection. The files are a logical place to start. If he’s right, then we take a bad guy off the street. If he’s wrong, no harm done.”

“No harm done? For God’s sake, Hunt.” The Chief splayed his meaty hands on the desk. “Giving you access to those files would piss off every employee I have and probably violate more employment laws than I care to count. Not to mention the image problem we’d have if word gets out.”

“And it would,” the sheriff said.

“The kid has already made me look like an ass on national television, and you-my lead detective, my right arm, or so I’ve been told-you have managed to drag this department into a lawsuit with one of the city’s most respected businessmen.”

“That lawsuit is crap and you know it.”

The Chief ticked off points on his fingers. “Police brutality. Harassment. Intentional infliction of emotional distress. False arrest. Is there anything else? I’m running out of fingers.”

“There may be a pedophile with a badge running loose in this county. That’s the issue, and it should concern both of you. Ignoring that possibility puts children at further risk. You”-Hunt stressed the word, repeated it-“you would be putting children at further risk.”

The Chief came out of his seat. “If you repeat anything like that outside of this office, I will have your ass and I will burn it.”

“Ignoring this won’t make it go away.”

“That’s enough.”

“If another child goes missing because of self-serving public relations concerns-”

“Why are we listening to this son of a bitch?” the sheriff demanded. “If we lose another kid, it’ll be because of his incompetence. That’s the bottom line here and everybody knows it. Just look at him, for Christ’s sake.”

Hunt bristled and the Chief tried to settle everyone down. “Jarvis is dead. Tiffany is safe. That’s what matters.”

The sheriff barked a laugh. “Thanks to a twelve-year-old girl and a thirteen-year-old punk.”

“I’ll handle my own people,” the Chief said, and stared the sheriff down. “Is that clear?”

The sheriff returned to his post on the wall and nailed Hunt with a finger. “Well, you tell supercop to keep his eye on the ball. ’Cause I think he’s losing it. I think he’s trying to make himself look better by dragging other cops through the mud. My people. Your people. Us, for all I can tell.”

The Chief held up a hand and spoke to Hunt, a red flush climbing his neck as he did. “Are we clear on this issue of cop pedophiles? I don’t want to hear one damn word about this.”

“I think your stance is painfully clear.”

“Good. Because you should be looking into the circumstances of David Wilson’s death, Levi Freemantle, Burton Jarvis’s known associates. Not figments. Not maybes. Known, as in factual. If someone else is involved with Jarvis, that’s the way to find him. I want every loose end nailed down. We will reconsider your request to examine personnel files if and when Johnny Merrimon decides to talk about what he saw.”

“If he saw it,” the sheriff said.

“If he saw it,” the Chief agreed. “What he saw. How it happened. All of the usual things we, as cops, like to hear before going off half-cocked. Is that clear, Detective?”

“Yes.”

“Then get the hell out.”

Hunt did not move. “There’s more, I think.”

“You think?” The sheriff’s scorn was pronounced.

“The Freemantle case.”

“Have you found him?” the Chief asked.

“Not yet.”

“Then what?”

“We have ID on the bodies: Freemantle’s girlfriend and a guy she was probably sleeping with. We’re pretty sure Freemantle did it. No forced entry. Looks extemporaneous. Crime of passion, maybe. We think he walked in on them.”

“Extemporaneous,” the sheriff said. “That’s a big word.”

“Freemantle walked off a work detail that morning. Probably went straight home and caught them in the act. His probation officer says the girlfriend was pretty much a whore.”

“Fine. A good, clean case. I like it.”

Hunt pushed out a breath. “They have a daughter.”

“And?” The Chief’s entire body swelled.

“She’s missing.”

“No.” The Chief stood. “No, she’s not.”

“What?”

The Chief kept his voice calm and level, but a fierceness underlay it. “No one has filed a missing persons report. No one has called us for help.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“She could be with relatives, a grandmother, an aunt. Levi Freemantle probably has the kid. He’s the father, isn’t he? He hasn’t lost custody rights yet.”

Hunt stood, angry. “You’re just going to ignore this?”

“Ignore what?” The Chief turned his palms flat. “There is nothing to ignore. There’s no case here.”

“I get it,” Hunt said.

“You do?” The fierceness moved to implicit threat.

“No one wants another missing kid, so you bury it. You stick your head in the sand and pretend there’s no problem.”

“If you utter one word about another missing child…”

“I’ve had enough of your threats.”

The Chief straightened. “Don’t you have enough on your plate?”

“I want you to think hard about this,” Hunt said.

“And if I don’t?”

Hunt looked at the sheriff, the Chief. “I think that would be bad for all of us.”