The chief returned an hour after she had fled the town hall. Hadley desperately wanted to get in her cruiser and disappear—even roadwork detail sounded good right now—but she made herself stay and write up her notes on this morning’s interview with Mrs. Beshir and Tori the waitress. Van Alstyne poked his head into the squad room just as she was finishing up. “Knox? In my office.”
She stood up, squaring her shoulders and tucking her uniform blouse into her waistband. In his office, the chief closed the door. Hadley’s stomach lurched. He always kept the door ajar when she was in here with him.
He sat at his desk and gestured for her to take the chair opposite. “I want you to tell me what you didn’t tell the attorney,” he said.
“Um … I…”
“Knox.” He leaned forward. “When we were talking about the meth in evidence. There was something you kept back.” He tapped his desk. “Tell me.”
“Oh, God.” She covered her eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Did you plant the drugs on your ex-husband?”
“No.” She was absolutely sure of that.
“Then what?”
She filled her lungs with air. Breathed out slowly. “You know the dep sent us to Albany to dig up leads on the location of the meth house or to find someone who was inside the organization.”
“Yes.”
“We ran down a guy. He was carrying, maybe five or six envelopes.” She held an imaginary glassine square between her fingers. The chief nodded. “Flynn tossed them into his glove compartment after we frisked the guy. We were in his SUV because of the weather.”
“I remember.”
“There was … it was confusing. We were talking with the feds, and the DEA, and the Albany PD, and then I got a call from Harlene saying Dylan had taken the kids, and I was so scared…” She took another deep breath. “We never turned the envelopes in. We got the kids, and there was that terrible ice storm to get through, and we were all run off our feet, and…” She looked at her lap, tight-lipped. Then she raised her eyes to meet his. “Chief, I swear to you, I had completely forgotten about them until I heard from the Albany Airport Police. A courtesy call. Blue to blue.”
“And they told you what?”
“Dylan’s carry-on had been searched, and they found meth on him.”
“Why didn’t I hear any of this back in January?”
“Because literally, when I got back to the station, I walked right into … the guys had all seen…”
“The videos.”
Her lips twisted. “A parting shot from Dylan. If he couldn’t control my life, he could at least ruin it.” She sounded as bitter as salt water, and she didn’t care.
“And you never saw the drugs again.”
“Flynn—” She steadied her voice. “Flynn resigned the same day.”
Van Alstyne sat back. “Do you think he went to Syracuse because of the missing meth?”
She paused for a moment. She had confessed to the chief because this lawsuit was going to involve him and the whole department. But her brief relationship with Flynn? That wasn’t anybody’s business but her own. “Maybe? I don’t know. I didn’t think he was the kind of guy to run away from problems.”
“Neither did I,” the chief said dryly. “On the other hand, I never thought he might frame up someone, either.”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
“You suspect it, though.” She nodded. “Did you think so at the time? When you heard from Albany?”
She nodded again. “What do you want to do, Chief?” She swallowed. “Do you want me to resign?”
“I told you a couple days ago that wasn’t necessary. I haven’t changed my mind.” He pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his glasses. “I don’t know what I want to do.” His eyes sharpened. “No, I do know something. I know I need to talk to Kevin Flynn.”