Russ caught Knox as she was walking in. “Good. I was about to call you. I just got the royal summons from the mayor’s office. The town lawyer’s shown up and he wants to talk to you about your ex-husband’s lawsuit.”
She screwed her eyes shut. “Oh, Christ.”
“I told them as your supervising officer, any professional misconduct was my responsibility. So I’m going to sit in on the interview.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m not going to let anyone hang you out to dry, Knox.”
“Thanks. That’s … thank you.”
The town hall was just a couple blocks up Main Street, so they walked. “I’m sorry this is taking time away from the case,” Knox said, as they passed storefronts devoted to yarn and bad landscape paintings.
“I’m not so worried about the case as about the referendum. I mean, yeah, we need to close the case, the sooner the better. But I’d like to see this business put to rest and forgotten before Election Day rolls around.”
“You think something like this can be forgotten?”
A group of tourists crossed the street toward them. He tried to smile in a way that said Welcome! Please spend your money here. “Are we talking about the lawsuit? Or what’s been happening with you?”
She looked away.
“I’m not going to lie and say people won’t remember if they’re pressed. But I can tell you that as soon as a juicy new story comes along, the old one gets put away. Look at Clare and me. These days, I bet only twenty percent of conversations in the greater Millers Kill area involve our scandalous relationship.”
Knox was laughing as they walked through the door. He hoped he had helped; at times his most recent hire reminded him of a galvanized line that wired two halves of an ancient maple together in the front yard of his boyhood home. He had watched it from his bedroom window as it held through thunderstorms and blizzards, assuming it would last forever. Then one mild summer morning it snapped with a sound like a thousand cicadas, and the two halves, each as large as a full-grown tree, smashed to the ground. During the cleanup, his grandpa Campbell had found one end of the line. It was loose, deformed, with dozens of tiny wires splayed out at the end, as if they had been trying to escape. “Remember this when you’re building something, Russell.” Grandpa looked across the yard at Russ’s mother. “Everything has a breaking point.”
“Chief?” Knox had paused halfway down the hall.
“Sorry.” He strode after her. The clerk waved them through to the mayor’s office.
Jim Cameron was in his usual uniform, rolled-up shirtsleeves, bright tie, pressed khakis. He looked like a GQ cover next to the other man in the room. “Russ.” The mayor nodded. “I don’t know if you’ve met Julius Arlam from Arlam and Bales.”
Arlam was in his sixties, shorter than Knox and with the kind of belt-busting belly that only comes with lovingly tending it over the decades. His few hairs, white and gray, were mounting a stand-up protest against his encroaching pink scalp. His suit, despite being some indestructible drip-dry polyester, managed to be both rumpled and stained. All in all, he looked like he ought to be at Belmont, betting on the sixth, rather than practicing law.
“No,” Russ said. “I met Mr. Bales.”
Arlam shook his hand. “For your employment contract, I bet. Bill Bales is the guy you meet when you’re talking about defined benefits. I’m the guy you get when someone needs a beat-down.” He looked Knox up and down before taking her hand. “You must be the young lady with the creepy ex-husband.”
Knox didn’t seem charmed.
“Let’s all sit down, shall we? My firm is going to charge you a ridiculous amount for this. We might as well get the most out of it.”
Russ was impressed by Arlam’s ability to make the mayor’s office seem like his own. He took a seat as the lawyer flipped open a yellow pad and clicked his pen. “Okay, Miss Knox—”
“Officer Knox.” Hadley’s voice was firm. “In this context, anyway.”
“Officer Knox, right. What’s your version of events?”
She gave Arlam the same rundown as Russ had heard. A little more precision about the times and action, a little less information about her emotions. Arlam muttered hmmm and uh-huh as he wrote on his legal pad. “Okay, Officer Knox. Now tell me if you asked Officer Flynn to mess up your ex for you.”
“No! I told you—”
“Were you and he lovers?”
Knox turned a shade of pink Russ had never seen before. “What?”
“Lovers. An item. Dancing the horizontal hokey pokey.”
“We did not have a romantic relationship.” Knox spoke like each word was costing her a hundred bucks. “He’s eight years younger than me.”
Arlam’s eyebrows went up. “That’s a kind of chastity belt, now? Chief Van Alstyne, what’s the age difference between you and your wife?”
“Thirteen years,” Russ growled. “And our department has a no-fraternization policy.”
“It’s nice you think that makes a difference.” Arlam turned back to Knox. “So you’re saying that out of the blue, this guy you’ve only ever worked with decides to plant a schedule II(d) drug in your former husband’s suitcase all on his own? For funsies?”
“I’m not saying that at all! I left the room with my kids while Flynn—Officer Flynn—held Dylan to prevent him from attacking them! Or me! I don’t know what happened after that!”
“Good.” Arlam set his pen down. “That’s the essence of your story, and that’s what I need you to get across when the opposing counsel deposes you.”
“I thought you were representing me!”
Arlam screwed up his face. “I represent the town, young lady. My interest in you is making sure you’re not going to crack under pressure and confess to conspiracy to endanger. That would put us all in a very uncomfortable—not to mention costly—position.”
Russ leaned toward Knox. “If you want an attorney of your own, the union can help you out.”
“I don’t know.” She jammed her fingers into her boy-short hair, reminding Russ of the way Clare would unpin and pin the knot at the nape of her neck. “Part of me feels I shouldn’t need a lawyer because I didn’t do anything.” She glared at Arlam. “As for Flynn, I can honestly say he’s quite possibly the most straitlaced guy I’ve ever met.”
“He does have that reputation,” Russ agreed.
“If I can ever locate Officer Flynn and get a deposition out of him, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
Russ focused on keeping his face still. In his peripheral vision, he saw Knox glance at him, then away.
“You two wouldn’t have any knowledge of his whereabouts, would you?”
“Officer Flynn is working for the Syracuse Police Department. He doesn’t report to me anymore.”
“A little birdie told me opposing counsel is having a hell of a time finding him. They sent somebody to his parents’ house.” Arlam grinned, foxlike. Russ could swear he saw a feather drooping from the corner of his mouth. “He royally cheesed off Assemblywoman Flynn, which, since she might be our new representative, is all to the good for us.”
“What happens if they can’t find him?” Knox asked.
Arlam waved the question away. “Sooner or later, he’ll surface, and the sheriff’s department will serve him. In the meantime, you two will be getting deposed.” He shot a look at Knox. “Try not to get so shrill next time.”
Knox narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth. Russ set his hand on her sleeve. “You’ll need my deposition as well?”
“They’re going to want to know about Officer Flynn’s training, your departmental standards, how you secure evidence, where the meth came from—that’s assuming he didn’t just buy it somewhere—”
Russ shook his head. “No way. I’d sooner believe my mother was buying meth than Kevin Flynn.”
“I’d sooner believe it, too,” the mayor murmured.
Russ glared at him. “As for evidence, we were working a case that involved meth, but the MKPD didn’t take possession of any product. It all went to the Essex County Sheriff’s office.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Knox tense.
Evidently, the lawyer noticed it as well. “Officer Knox? Does that square with your recollection?”
“Um. Most of it went up in a fire, but yes, anything that remained was secured by the sheriff’s department.”
She spoke the absolute truth, but there was still something there. Russ didn’t know what, but he knew he wanted to hear about it before Cameron and Arlam did.
“I’d really like to get Officer Knox back on patrol. If you’re done with her, I can give you the rundown on our training and procedures.”
Arlam frowned. “I guess.”
Knox bolted from her seat. “Okay. I’ll see you at the briefing, Chief.”
“Or even before then,” Russ said mildly. He caught her eye.
She blinked rapidly, but didn’t respond. Once the door had swung shut behind her, he turned like a man facing a firing squad. “All right, Mr. Arlam. What do you want to know?”