She Who Watches (20 page)

“What do you mean?”

“They might not be sleeping together, but something is going on. I think she's in love with him.”

I'm more interested in how a bag and rock from Sara's collection “ended up in her mouth. Suggests her killer knew her or at least knew about the collection.”

“Maybe, but according to Claire, it could be anyone who's visited the house.”

As they headed back to the office, Mac asked, “Are you up for another interview?”

“Sure.”

“Good. I want to find out if Senator Wilde and Mr. Administrative Sidekick have been asked the tough questions.”

“Before we get too far with our questioning,” Dana said, “we'd better bone up on the reports we inherited. I want to check the lab results for prints on that cabinet.”

“It'll take awhile to go through all those files, but you're right. We can contact Nate at the same time.”

“I hope the senator can fit us into his busy schedule,” Dana said.

Mac cast her a sideways look. “Oh, I think we can persuade him.”

MAC AND DANA RETURNED to the Portland Patrol Office and talked to Kevin about their interview with Scott Watson and Claire Montgomery, as well as their plan to interview the senator.

“Lots of good information, kids. I'm especially interested in this Native American connection.”

“So are we. We need to check the FBI files to see whose prints showed up on Sara's cabinet. Latents should be able to tell us who besides Sara was in there.” Mac felt good about this one.

“I appreciate your wanting to interview Senator Wilde right away, but getting an appointment with the senator may take some doing. I'm sure he'll want to cooperate, but we have to go through the right channels.” Kevin told them about the dignitary protection unit down in Salem. “We'll have to go through them to set up the interview.”

“Humph,” Mac grumbled. “Sounds like a lot of red tape to me.”

“Unfortunately, yes, but we do what we have to do.”

“I'd forgotten how much power these politicians have.” Turning to Dana, Mac said, “How about we let the good sergeant work the political angle while we catch up on our reports?”

“Good idea,” Kevin said. “I hope you're working the catch-'em-and-clean-'em method I taught you.”

“Yes, sir,” they said together. Kevin's method was simple: write up reports after the interviews so they don't back up on you. Detectives could easily interview dozens of potential witnesses in a day, turning into the hundreds during the course of an investigation. If they let the crime scene, autopsy, and interview observations grow stale, they might fail to document key elements or nuances in the reports. Mac tried to avoid more than a twenty-four-hour turnaround on the reports, but that wasn't always easy. Right now, he was more than two days behind.

“You want me to hang the paper on the interviews with Scott and Claire?” Dana asked as they exited the sergeant's office.

“If you don't mind.” Mac stopped at his cubicle. “I'll do the crime scene and the post if you get the Watson interviews, FBI case review synopsis, and the evidence we took to the lab.”

“Deal.” Dana grinned. “I'm relieved that we're not interviewing the senator today. I'm not at my best this time of the afternoon.”

“Yeah. I could go for some coffee.”

“Me too. Want me to make a run to Starbucks?”

“No, I'll do it.”

ONCE MAC RETURNED WITH THEIR COFFEES and they worked for a while, both dictated their reports into a tape recorder for their secretary.

“Any word from Nate?” Dana clicked off her tape recorder an hour later.

Mac tapped his recorder on his chin. “No, come to think of it. I haven't. I'll page him.” He dialed in Nate's pager, pecking in his cell phone number in case Nate called him back after he left the office, then went back to dictating the report. Minutes later, his cell rang. “Hey, Nate, how goes it?”

“Not bad. I've talked to a number of folks, including Therman Post. Can you and Dana make it out to the reservation tomorrow? I have an interview set up with Therman.”

“I think so. Hang on a sec.” Mac hurried to Kevin's office. “Hey, Sarge, did you set up an interview with the senator yet?”

“No, I'm waiting to hear back from our guys in Salem. Why?”

“Good. Don't schedule anything for tomorrow. We're heading out to Warm Springs. Nate has an interview lined up.”

“Good. I doubt we could have gotten in with the senator that quickly anyway.”

Getting back to Nate, he said, “Tomorrow is fine. So Post agreed to talk with us?”

“Hopefully. Therman is skeptical, and I can't say that I blame him. He said we could come talk to him, but he needed to consult someone about it.”

Mac felt the lead slipping away. “An attorney?”

“I don't think so. Though he might do that. I think he was talking in a more spiritual sense.”

“So he's going to pray about it?”

“Yes, and probably talk to the tribal elders as well as our shaman.”

“OK, well, let's hope he agrees. I don't want to drive all the way out there if he's going to change his mind.”

Nate laughed. “I'll call you if anything changes. I think Therman will cooperate. He's just being cautious.”

“OK. We'll plan on seeing you tomorrow, then. We should be able to get there by ten.”

“Ask him about Margaret Case,” Dana whispered.

“Oh, yeah. Nate, we might have something on the beaded bag and stone we found with Sara.” Mac told Nate about the possible lead and connection to the Piaute Tribe.

“Interesting. The name has a familiar ring to it. I'll see if I can track it down.”

“Well?” Dana asked when Mac hung up.

“Nate is one good guy. I wish he worked for our outfit. He has an interview set up for us with Therman.”

“Cool.” Dana sighed. “I'm almost done here. Can we talk details later?”

“Sure.” Mac finished his own dictation and clicked off his tape recorder. He double-clicked on his e-mail icon, waiting a couple of seconds before the screen came up asking for his password. As he read through his e-mails, thoughts turned to his slain friend.

Mac scrolled through dozens of department messages, many from the agency head giving updates on the murdered trooper and the pending investigation. There was an e-mail listing a bank account that had been set up in the trooper's name to help the family with financial costs associated with their unborn child. Mac jotted down the participating bank's name so he could make an anonymous donation to the cause.

This donation would be in addition to the 1 percent of his monthly pay that all department members donated to the burial. It was tradition that all the OSP troopers donate 1 percent of their month's pay in the event a trooper was killed in the line of duty. The payment went to the surviving family to offset the burial costs. Unfortunately, this kind of thing happened often enough that the agency payroll system had an automatic deduction program to remove the money from the monthly checks. All they needed was an authorization notice to remove the money. There was always 100 percent compliance among the troopers.

Mac caught a glimpse of Philly carrying a stack of paperwork into Kevin's office. It was probably the search warrant return and the crime report from the biker clubhouse. Philly gave Mac a nod when he walked by, shoulders stooped, as though the burden of Daniel's death hung on them.

Mac felt he should say something, but he didn't trust himself to speak. All he could muster was a nod back to the big man. He peered into Philly's office when he spotted Detective Dustin Mitchell from the Salem office and a woman, probably his partner. They were seated at the small table next to Philly's desk. They had probably posted Trooper Revman today. Mac had never been to a fellow officer's autopsy and hoped he'd never have to. Urged on by curiosity and the desire to know more about Daniel's death, Mac pushed back his chair and walked into Philly's office.

“How's it going, Dustin?” Mac reached out to shake his hand.

“Mac. Good to see you.” Mitchell's tired eyes turned to the woman. “Mac, this is my new partner, Jodi Creswisk. Jodi, this is Mac McAllister.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jodi and Dustin were both in their early forties. Jodi stood to shake his hand, and she must have been a good five-ten. She was an imposing, well-dressed brunette with a dark tan.

“You two up here for Officer Revman's investigation?” Mac asked.

“Yeah. We drew the short straw and had to attend the autopsy today.” Jodi glanced down at the table. “Tough job.”

“What was the cause and manner?” Mac asked. “Um—Daniel was a friend.”

“Sorry.” Dustin looked at Mac and then glanced away. “He had a torn carotid, frags in the head and chest, and probable shock from the massive blood loss. Take your pick, a grab bag of causes.” Sarcasm, disgust, and grief layered his tone.

“The mechanism was grape shot and gasoline, fired up by that little makeshift cannon inside the light bulb.” Dustin shook his head. “If I could get five minutes in a room with that filthy piece of . . .” He stopped midsentence. The autopsy had obviously taken an emotional toll on the detective. How could it not? It was bad enough watching the medical examiners cut into a total stranger, let alone someone you worked with. It made matters worse when the pictures in the papers and on TV had the victim wearing the same kind of uniform you had hanging in the closet.

“I don't envy you, and I really appreciate your seeing this through,” Mac said.

Philly came back in and Mac left, but not before giving Philly an empathetic pat on the shoulder.

Mac returned to his cubicle and continued pecking away at the e-mail messages. Daniel's funeral was set for Wednesday. Mac would go unless the investigation was at a critical stage. It was the least he could do for an old friend.

Dana rounded the corner, sliding her arms into the sleeves of her suit jacket. “Are you finished?”

“Almost.”

“I've dictated the rough draft to the reports and will proof them as soon as Cindy puts them on paper.” She hesitated. “Did you see the e-mail on the funeral down in Central Point?”

Mac nodded. “Want to ride down with me?”

“Of course. You're my partner.”

“I want to go in uniform. I'll pick you up at your place. I need help getting into my dress blues. I can never get that Sam Brown strap right.” The Sam Brown was a traditional strap that went from the gunbelt over the shoulder and chest like the uniforms worn by police in a Norman Rockwell painting.

“Sounds like a plan,” Dana said. “But the funeral isn't until Wednesday. What time do you want to meet in the morning?”

“How about seven? I told Nate we'd be there by ten.”

“OK. Good night, Mac; get some rest.” Dana slipped out of his cubicle, and Mac could hear her saying good-bye to Kevin and the rest of the detectives.

Mac finished up his e-mails and headed for Kevin's office, giving a rap on the door before pushing it open.

“Hey, Mac. C'mon in,” Kevin looked up from the mountain of paperwork on his desk.

“Hey, Sarge, how are the new digs?” Mac looked around the office. The only thing that proved Kevin had changed offices was the picture of his wife on the desk. The heap of binders and reference manuals left behind by Frank Evans still occupied the two bookshelves in the cramped office.

“Still not used to it yet. I should have stayed across the hall in my old office.”

“But this one's bigger, an office fitting a man of your importance,” Mac grinned.

“Yeah, right.” Kevin smiled back. He picked up a rubber band and shot it at Mac. Mac caught it midflight, then he slumped down in a chair.

“Are you doing OK?” Kevin asked, his face showing concern for his friend and former partner.

“Yeah, just bummed about Trooper Revman. Just like everyone else probably.” Mac stretched the rubber band to occupy his hands.

“You know about the funeral on Wednesday?”

Mac nodded his head. “I'm going. At least I plan to.”

“Are you interested in standing deathwatch? It begins tomorrow at midnight.”

“I've never done that before. What does it entail?” Mac continued playing with the rubber band, stretching it around his fingers.

“For twenty-four hours, we'll post a ceremonial guard on Daniel's body. The post rotates every fifteen minutes. You'll have to stand at attention and rotate the post with a slow salute to your replacement. Since you and Daniel were pals, I think it would be a good idea if you were the representative from our detectives' office.”

“Sure. What shift do I need to work?”

“I'll call the Honor Guard supervisor; see what openings he has with his team.”

The OSP Honor Guard team was comprised of rank-and-file officers who were specially trained in drill and ceremony, much like the military burial teams. They wore the traditional dress uniform, complete with white gloves and leather polished to a high gloss.

The Honor Guard members were tasked with completing the burial rites for current and past members. Anyone who worked for the OSP was entitled to the use of the Honor Guard team at their funerals, regardless of the time they retired from active service. Most of the team's use was for memorial services, special ceremonies, and the funerals of retired members, although from time to time they had to participate in the grim task of burying an active member like Trooper Revman. Mac's presence on the deathwatch would be an honor and an obligation to his fallen friend.

Kevin searched through the paperwork on his desk. “I have a contact name and number for you on that interview with Senator Wilde. You and Dana can head down Thursday morning.”

“Not until Thursday?”

“He's not available tomorrow, and with the funeral on Wednesday . . .”