Devetko glanced left, the direction they weren't heading in. "I thought we were going to speak with Dr. Steiner...?"
"Later. May as well try to kill two birds with one stone." Kristeva gestured ahead; they'd turned right. None of the times they'd come here so far had they been required to check in with anyone, and nobody ever questioned what they were doing there. Kristeva would get a nod now and then as somebody else passed. "Unless your heart's not in it," he added as they turned a corner.
Devetko's eyes clouded over a little. "In what...?"
"I don't plan on spending too long here. But if Rhoades has anything to share, I'd be interested in hearing it."
Devetko made an odd noise through his nose and looked ceilingward. "I imagine your track record here is about the same as at the MPD, considering that you don't work here anymore."
"Like I said, if your heart's not in it..."
Devetko opened his mouth, but didn't get to speak. "Max!" an excited voice cried from ahead, and they both halted, heads popping up. Two deputies in the light brown uniforms of the Sheriff's Department, a man and a woman, were coming their way; the woman's face lit up and she started jogging so the man had to hurry to catch up. A moment later she'd thrown her arms around Kristeva in a crushing hug. "It's so good to see you!"
Kristeva barely saw Devetko's eyebrows rise, but didn't notice much else, as the unexpected embrace sent a jolt through him and all his limbs went stiff as a board. He ground his teeth and fought the urge to shove her away; fortunately, she pulled back on her own, and he saw that the male deputy had her by the arm, giving him a vaguely apologetic look.
"Easy, Trace! You act like you haven't seen him in ten years..."
The woman finally let him go and took a step back to give him his space, a flush rising in her face; she brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "Well--it feels like it! You never keep in touch or anything!"
Kristeva barely heard this at first, trying to keep from shaking himself off like a wet dog; he noticed the way Devetko stood beside him with arms crossed and eyebrow still raised, and smoothed down his clothes, to give himself enough time to settle his nerves. "Dev...this is Tracy Hatcher...and Kennard Scott...we used to work together. Guys, this is Dev, my partner."
"Devetko," Devetko corrected, reaching for Deputy Scott's hand, since he'd offered it first.
"Just Scott," Scott said, with another apologetic look. "I really hate 'Kennard'..."
"Partner--?" Hatcher pumped Devetko's hand up and down next. "Wow, took them long enough! Max and I were partners way back when..." She released his hand, and for a second Kristeva was just about certain she was going to add, And a little more than that, too, before she grasped Scott by the elbow and beamed back at both of them. "...But now it's Scott and me. Max! I keep telling you. Stop being a stranger. I miss talking about all the stupid shit we used to do!"
"'Stupid shit,'" Devetko echoed, tilting his head, and Kristeva grimaced.
Hatcher waved. "Oh, yeah! We used to pull the dumbest pranks. It gets boring here sometimes. I bet the MPD is way more interesting. But anyway we always had to find stuff to do. I crashed Max's computer once...I really didn't mean to do that, honest. But anyway. We were tossing paper airplanes once and one of them hit Sheriff Rhoades and...Max can keep a straight face, but I was about ready to die...I can't believe he didn't fire us..."
"Really," Devetko said.
"Oh, yeah! And that's just the start of it, seriously, it's a wonder sometimes we got any work done..."
"Speaking of..." Kristeva waved a bit himself, to get her attention before she could start chattering again, "...that's kind of why we're here...is Rhoades in? We probably should've called ahead, I know..."
"Oh--? Yeah, he's in. Oh!" She dropped her voice almost to a whisper and took a step toward them, head bending forward; Scott followed suit. "Are you still working that cold case? The one with Sgt. Kincaid's bust and all...?"
"Yeah," Kristeva said without thinking, at the same time that Devetko said, "Unofficially."
"You might want to know," Scott said, just as quietly. "Rhoades found out. We didn't tell him..."
"Honest!" Hatcher added. "I swear he has eyes every-fricking-where! We erased our searches in the computer system but I guess he found out anyway. So if that's what you're here about, well...fair warning."
"I didn't get either of you in trouble, did I?"
"That's the weird thing," Scott whispered.
"He hasn't said anything about it!" Hatcher exclaimed under her breath, gesturing for emphasis. "We keep waiting to be called into his office but so far--nothing! It's bizarre!"
"I think it'd be easier if he did chew us out," Scott added. "At least we wouldn't be waiting for the ax to fall. I'm used to Rhoades when he's pissed off--the devil you know, right?"
"But this, whatever this is," Hatcher said, gesturing again, "this is just weird. We have no idea how to handle this!" She took another step forward so their heads almost touched, and Kristeva made himself not step back. "What exactly is that you had us look into--? It can't be just the Kincaid bust, can it? That's ancient history. And there's no way that has anything to do with that Singer thing, is there--?"
Kristeva had no idea how to answer that without dragging them even further into something they didn't belong in; something must have shown on his face, and Scott must have noticed it, for he grasped Hatcher's sleeve and tugged on her arm a little bit. She glanced at him as if to ask what he wanted; this gave Kristeva the second or two he needed to collect his thoughts by the time she turned back to him.
"It's...kind of complicated. And we're looking into it kind of unofficially so I don't want you two getting in trouble for anything."
"We don't mind getting in trouble," Hatcher started to say, but Scott was tugging on her sleeve again.
"I think they're kind of busy and just need to talk to Rhoades," he said, in a hint-hint tone of voice; Hatcher furrowed her brow at him, not seeming to get his meaning at first, but when she looked back at Kristeva and Devetko it seemed to finally strike her. She took a step back, face going slightly red again, and Kristeva felt his tensed muscles relax. Hatcher gave an awkward smile.
"Well...okay. Sorry. I just miss the stupid shit we'd all get into, you know? But yeah, Rhoades should be in his office, just--be careful! It kind of makes me think he's been waiting for you to show up just so he can chew you out!"
"We can handle ourselves," Kristeva said, gesturing at Devetko and hoping his comment didn't sound too dismissive; the entire situation just seemed far too awkward to continue engaging in. He halted when Hatcher grasped his arm and then hugged him again; it wasn't as hard this time, and he managed to give her a brief hug back before she let him go. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek; he felt like slapping Devetko for the way his eyebrows went up again, but at least Scott seemed to take it in stride, giving them one last apologetic look before pulling Hatcher back.
"Call us sometime!" Hatcher insisted as Scott turned and started tugging her along after him down the hallway. "We can catch up. Lunch. Falcon's Nest!" She pantomimed a telephone receiver at her ear, and they disappeared around a corner.
Kristeva opened his mouth to say, Say one word, but Devetko beat him to the punch.
"They make a cute couple."
Kristeva shut his mouth and they walked in silence for a moment. "Probably cuter than you two did," Devetko added, and Kristeva looked toward the ceiling.
"You must be so much fun at parties."
"Which just brings me back to an earlier point. The history you say you have at this place. Remember when I asked if any of your drama would interfere with this investigation in any way? And you were quick to say no?"
Kristeva muttered, "I never actually said no..."
"Well, seeing as how you outright admitted you've had some drama here--is there anything I should know about? Like whatever that was, back there--" he jerked his head over his shoulder, in the direction Hatcher and Scott had gone in "--that's not going to come back to bite us, is it? Or whatever this 'history' is you say you have with Sheriff Rhoades?"
"Scott and Trace are good. You heard them, if I wanted them to walk over hot coals they would, not that I'm that sort of sadist."
"And Rhoades...?"
Kristeva pursed his lips and didn't answer immediately. Devetko barely suppressed a sigh, halting at a water cooler and filling a cup while Kristeva slowed down, and they resumed walking, footsteps echoing. A file clerk went scurrying past, arms loaded with folders, before they were left in silence again.
"Rhoades put the moves on me back when he was one of my instructors in academy."
A spitting noise. Devetko had just been taking a drink from his cup, but now he gagged and put a hand up to his mouth. He started coughing violently; Kristeva put up with this for a moment before raising his own eyebrows.
"One would think you've never even heard of such a thing before..."
Devetko coughed a few more times, wiping his mouth and wincing. "Isn't he married--?" he croaked.
"That's never stopped some people."
"Isn't he straight?"
"Apparently not."
Devetko made a few more noises that made it clear he was trying to catch his breath or compose himself; Kristeva figured the conversation was over, when he managed to say, "There's no possible way you can think that won't have any influence on any of this."
Kristeva shrugged. "I can't help but suspect it's part of the reason he wanted me out of here, yeah. But I made it pretty clear I wasn't interested, and that was that. I'm over it. I can't help if he's not. Aside from shuffling me out of the Sheriff's Department though, and trying to get me to spy on Kinnie, he's pretty good at keeping himself out of things personally."
"Well, let me know if your opinion of that changes once we've talked with him." A pause. "This isn't going to be awkward, is it...?"
"Like I said, I'm over it. Can't help if he's not."
Devetko made a face. They passed through a set of doors into the main office of the Sheriff's Department, not too dissimilar from that at the Minot Police Department; several officers seated at their desks glanced up at them before losing interest and going back to what they were doing.
Kristeva gestured at two empty desks. "Scott and Trace. That desk used to be mine." A gesture at another desk which was empty at the moment. "Then that one. DelBora used to sit way over there."
"I forgot she worked here. Any idea what was Rhoades's motivation getting rid of her...?"
"Easy. I was supposed to spy on Kinnie, she was supposed to spy on me."
"Looks like both of you were a disappointment."
"You could say that." They halted before an office door, the blinds drawn shut on the windows. Kristeva put his hand on the doorknob and turned to Devetko, who was tossing his cup into a trash can. "A word of warning--"
The door abruptly pulled away from his hand and he jumped back. The two of them found themselves staring at a tall imposing man in the same Sheriff's Department uniform that Scott and Hatcher had been wearing; he glowered down at them as if they were bugs in a jar, and Kristeva not only noticed Devetko wilt just a little, but could feel everyone else's eyes on their backs.
Sheriff Rhoades just glared at them for a brief moment, then turned back to the office, jerking his hand in a "follow" gesture.
Kristeva leaned toward Devetko and whispered as quietly as he could in his ear, "Don't worry yet, that's his normal expression."
Devetko just swallowed. The door slammed behind them after they entered, making him jump; Rhoades was already standing behind his desk, and he jerked his hand again at the two chairs before it, a "sit down" gesture. The two detectives did so, like chastened schoolchildren ready to be rebuked by the principal.
"Had a feeling you'd be showing up here," Rhoades muttered, pulling his chair toward his desk. Even sitting down he was taller than they were, and continued glaring at them malevolently.
"I would've given more warning if I'd been able," Kristeva said, since Devetko didn't seem to be in any frame of mind to say anything, which was probably for the best.
"Yeah, sure you would have. And before you go feeding me some bullshit story, you should know that certain computer searches trigger a program that sends automatic e-mail notifications. I'm pretty sure you know what I'm talking about."
Kristeva bit the inside of his cheek. "I'm not that good with computers," he said. "Just ask Dev."
"I don't need to ask anybody anything. I'd like to know your reason for dragging my deputies into your shit. Shit that I'm pretty sure you're not even supposed to be looking into. You think Bowen and I don't share info, well, you're mistaken."
"Kind of figured that by now," Kristeva said, feeling like he was wilting now, himself.
"I also heard you got access to some files you really had no business having access to. Some piece of shit named Shane Buchanan? And your talks with Dr. Steiner and that statie in the hospital. And your little visits to the state prison. Looks like they're not giving you nearly enough work to do, if this is how you're spending your time."
How the fuck are they finding all this out? a voice in Kristeva's head said. He tried not to wince, didn't do a very good job. Devetko gave a small cough; he was looking askance and drumming his fingers atop the folder on his knee. Kristeva took a breath and let it out.
"Like it or not, it's a missing persons case, and that's what they have me working on over there."
"Not exactly what I sent you there to work on," Rhoades said.
Kristeva shrugged. "I'm not the boss there, and apparently neither are you."
He couldn't believe it--Devetko actually squinched his eyes shut and showed his teeth, like he'd just stuck his hand over an open flame. Rhoades didn't bother looking at him, stare focused on Kristeva instead. Kristeva held the stare longer than he thought he'd be able to; thankfully, Rhoades turned to look at Devetko instead.
"And what the fuck is your story?"
Devetko blinked and sat up straight. "I...was assigned to the Missing Persons Unit to assist on cold cases," he said, after the slighest pause. "They have no other openings at the moment, so I assume that's why Det. Kristeva was assigned there. A private citizen asked us to look into a cold missing persons case, so that's what we've been doing. She was misinformed that the case was closed."
Rhoades said, "Maybe being misinformed is the best place to be right now."
Kristeva didn't even need to look at Devetko to know that confusion must have flitted across his face, for he felt the same happen to him. "You're really going to say that with that skeleton lying down in the morgue right now...?" he asked.
Rhoades looked back at him. "That skeleton is currently unidentified. The ID is going to be pending for quite a while, if it ever gets ID'ed. So I'd appreciate it if you quit bothering our medical examiner, and let him get back to more pressing cases, of which we have no shortage. You're familiar with file rooms. I know you don't have any shortage of cases to work on, either. So maybe get back to working on those, and quit fucking around where you have no business."
A pause. "With all due respect, Sheriff..." The words came from Devetko, and Kristeva looked at him, not having expected them. "It is our business, because it's a missing persons case, and that's what we do, and we don't pick what we do and don't investigate."
A very long, uneasy silence this time. Rhoades's stare shifted from Devetko back to Kristeva, and again he fought to hold it, even though by now it seemed like it would have been a better idea to just get up and leave the station entirely.
"Mind telling me," Rhoades said, "why exactly it is you're digging into this?"
"Dev just told you. We were asked to, by a relative of the missing person."
"You know very well I can tell when you're feeding me a line of bullshit. You're saying Kinnie has no hand in this?--or maybe somebody closer to home?"
Kristeva furrowed his brow. "Kinnie helped get us in the prison, but no, he didn't ask us to do anything, as far as I'm aware he has no idea what we've been up to. As for 'closer to home,' I have no idea what the fuck you mean by that. Unless you feel like clarifying...?"
He actually hoped Rhoades would do so, as the comment left a niggling feeling in his brain; was he talking about Chief Bowen?--somebody else on the force? Rhoades, however, offered no further clarification, just continued glaring; Devetko shifted his foot a little, probably to keep himself from fidgeting. Kristeva was about to outright ask if he was talking about the chief, when Rhoades abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, seemingly one motion--both detectives flinched back a little. He strode around his desk and yanked open the door. As he stepped out, he jerked his hand at the air again, the same "follow" gesture as before. He didn't bother waiting to see whether they obeyed or not.
Kristeva and Devetko looked at each other, both equally confused. They stood and followed the sheriff out of his office.
Rhoades strode through the main room so quickly they had to jog a little to catch up; Kristeva spotted Scott and Hatcher at their desks, peering up at them as they passed. Scott got a sympathetic look and Hatcher even mouthed the word, Sorry, before Rhoades turned to enter a side hallway and they disappeared from sight.
They followed Rhoades to the end of the hallway, where the sheriff halted and pushed the button next to the elevator door. He entered the empty elevator, turned, and snapped, "File room twenty," before the door shut and the elevator hummed away.
Kristeva and Devetko stood staring at the closed metal door. "Guess he knows about you and elevators...?" Devetko said, before Kristeva headed to the stairway on the left and started climbing. They fell into step beside each other, footsteps ringing off the narrow walls.
"I kind of thought him having the hots for you might work in your favor," Devetko said.
Kristeva made a face. "He's never been the romantic type." He glanced at the landing above them. "File room twenty...that's where we always sent cases to die. Not just cold cases, but really hopeless cases. Stuff with less than zero evidence. I don't remember that I was ever set to work in there, now that I think of it, and I'm familiar with most of the stuff here. Can't imagine what he would want in there."
"Think maybe we're being punished...?"
"Wouldn't put it past him, by now."
They reached the landing and turned right, then right again. Rhoades was already standing by the elevator, arms crossed; seeing them, he turned and headed up the hall. Kristeva sighed and they again followed. He halted before a door with the number 20 stenciled* on the frosted glass, and unlocked it with one of a number of keys on a ring on his belt. He pushed it open and disappeared inside; the detectives picked up their pace and entered, Devetko faltering a bit when he saw how much bigger it was than the file rooms at the city police station, rows and rows of metal file cabinets interspersed with the occasional long table. Kristeva gestured and they followed the sound of footsteps to the back right corner of the room, where Rhoades was unlocking the next-to-bottom drawer on the last file cabinet, stooping down rather awkwardly to do so. He yanked it open so hard it almost came off its tracks, reached in, and pulled out what looked like a cardboard evidence box. When he slammed the drawer the noise rang off the walls like a gunshot; he turned and dumped the box on the nearest table with a thud.
"Tell Bowen he can keep it," he said, and walked around the table and past them, glowering the entire way, disappearing from sight behind the file cabinets. The door rattled as it opened and then slammed shut again.
The other two said nothing until the silence started to ring, then Kristeva murmured, "I hope he didn't lock us in here..."
"This looks like something that should've been entered into evidence," Devetko said with a frown, approaching the box. He pinched the ribbon holding it shut. "Shouldn't we be signing for this or something...?"
Kristeva turned back to him with a shrug. "Rhoades is the one who handed it over, if that isn't chain of custody then I don't know what is. Do you see any form to sign...?"
Devetko's frown grew, but he didn't argue. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a knife, flipping it open and slicing the ribbon loose. He lifted the lid and peered inside as Kristeva approached, and his frown shifted into a look of confusion.
"No...it's just files after all. Don't know why they warranted their own evidence box." He pulled out a thick manila folder, flipped through it, and handed it to Kristeva. "Looks just like the same stuff we've been seeing already."
Now Kristeva frowned, taking the folder and giving its contents a cursory look. He snorted. "Should've known he'd pull something like this to get us out of his hair...maybe there's a few pages we don't have at our place. May as well dig through it all."
Devetko pulled out an accordion folder and riffled through its pockets. He pulled out a handful of small spiralbound notebooks. "Christ, this thing is loaded with these." He flipped through a few pages of each and made a sour face. "I hope they're transcribed somewhere, because they're all in some kind of shorthand."
"You mean to tell me you don't know shorthand?"
"I know shorthand, I don't know whatever insane code this is." He set that folder aside and pulled out another with papers in it. "Longhand...good. I imagine somebody had a lot of spare time to do all this, though..." He fell silent, reading the first page he'd pulled out, then dug in the folder and pulled out the entire sheaf of papers contained in that pocket; Kristeva got a brief glimpse of the other pockets and saw that they contained papers as well, before he returned his attention to the manila folder. He was starting to grow peeved by now, and picked up one of the notebooks just to give himself something to do. The lines inside made no sense to him, either.
"I know I said Rhoades is an asshole, but I never figured he'd pull a stunt like this," he said, since the words stung less than saying, Sorry to put you through this trouble. Devetko ignored him, browsing through the looseleaf pages. "Guess we should've saved ourselves the trouble and gone to see Dr. Steiner instead." He fell silent as Devetko continued turning through the pages. "I'm pregnant, by the way," he added.
"Son of a bitch," Devetko said.
Kristeva raised his eyebrows. "Well...that's kind of a crass way of putting it, but..."
Devetko finally looked up at him, and held up the sheaf of papers. "It's a transcription," he said. "Probably of these notebooks. Of course they'd be in shorthand."
"Yeah," Kristeva said, "I thought we'd established already that somebody had a lot of time to spare..."
Devetko made an irked face and moved his mouth a little, as if trying to make himself not retort. He shook the papers.
"Singer had a lot of time to spare, moron. These notebooks and papers. This is his original report."
No comments:
Post a Comment