Page 61 of Den of Iniquity

“No idea,” I said. “I hope so, but there’s no way to tell. So that’s what’s been going on with me. What’s been happening with everyone else?”

“You know,” Mel said dismissively. “Same old, same old.”

I took that to mean there was likely something going on at work that she didn’t want to talk about in front of Kyle. Whatever it was would have to be discussed between us later and in private.

“What about you?” I asked, turning to Kyle.

“You’ll never guess,” Kyle said.

“What?”

“Hank is going to teach me how to drive a stick shift! Isn’t that great?”

I almost choked on my last bite of barbecued beef sandwich.I had some idea of how much a restored 1966 Shelby Mustang would be worth, and putting a teenaged driver behind the wheel of one of those sounded like a recipe for disaster. In other words I didn’t think it was great at all, and since Kyle was probably still listed as an inexperienced driver on his parents’ car insurance policy, I doubted Kelly and Jeremy would be thrilled by that news, either.

“In the Shelby?” I managed. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

“I’m not,” Kyle replied. “He said we’ll go somewhere out in the boonies for me to learn. I don’t think any of the other kids my age know how to drive a standard transmission.”

I was about to say something to the effect that there’s no way in hell that’s going to happen, but Mel beat me to the punch.

“That’s right,” she said with a smile. “When it comes to joyriding teenagers, standard transmission vehicles come with built-in immunity.”

That was enough to make me laugh. It also got me off my high horse. If Hank Mitchell was dumb enough to let Kyle drive his freshly restored automotive heirloom, who was I to stand in his way?

Kyle, completely oblivious, continued in the same vein and with the same amount of enthusiasm.

“I told him about the movie—Ford v Ferrari. Turns out he’s never heard of it, either. I know his wife is working tonight. Could we maybe invite him over to watch it?”

And that’s how, after spending hour upon hour staring at video footage in the evidence room, I unexpectedly ended up watching a movie that night. Truth be told, I enjoyed the hell out of it, and I think Hank did, too.

I’m beginning to think Kyle Cartwright has pretty good taste in movies.

Chapter 28

Bellingham, Washington

Thursday to Friday, March 5–6, 2020

Once Mel and I repaired to the bedroom Thursday night, we stayed up late talking about any number of things besides Hank Mitchell’s ill-advised decision to teach Kyle how to handle a stick shift on board his very expensive and recently restored Shelby.

Mel’s major concern had to do with two sets of disgruntled parents who had turned up at her office earlier in the day. They had come to discuss their daughters, both of whom were seniors at Bellingham High and who were both involved in chorus. According to the girls, their teacher, a Mr. George Pritchard, had been fondling their breasts under the pretext of teaching them how to breathe properly. They had taken their complaints to the school counselor two weeks earlier, but when nothing happened, they went to their parents. Now the hot potato had landed on Mel’s desk.

“What did you do about it?” I asked.

“Incidents like that are serious stuff,” Mel said. “Naturally I dispatched a pair of detectives to the high school. When they spoke to the counselor, someone must have let her know that the hammer was about to fall, because she had spoken to the principal earlier this morning, and together they had called our nonemergency number to make a report. According to the counselor, she’s been so overwhelmed with shutdown preparation that she hadn’t gotten around to doing it sooner.”

“Right,” I said. “Of course she’s been far too preoccupied.”

“As of noon today, Mr. Pritchard is on leave. According to the parents, the girls are both prepared to press charges, but before that happens, I want to know exactly what we’re up against, because those two girls may be only the tip of the iceberg. There may be lots more victims, and he may have committed far more egregious acts than just fondling breasts.

“Shortly before I left the office, I got a judge to sign off on a search warrant for Pritchard’s home and all his electronic devices. That was executed this evening, but as far as the electronics are concerned, we’re going to have to get our tech team to break into them because they’re all password protected. And how we’ll track down and speak to other possible victims once the shutdown is in effect is anybody’s guess.”

“Good luck with that,” I told her.

Being a police chief is no walk in the park. Mel usually falls asleep long before I do, but that night she was still tossing and turning when I dozed off, and she was already up and out before I opened my eyes the next morning.

When I arrived in the kitchen around ten on Friday morning, it was late enough that the coffee machine had turned itself off.While I was waiting for the coffee to brew, Sarah came over to the counter, sat down in front of me, and gave me “the look”—the one that meansWhere the hell have youbeenand don’t you know it’s past my breakfast time?

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