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“Hello,” said Jacob, lowering his voice when someone opened the door. “Hold on a minute, please, I’ll be right with you.” He flattened his thumb over the mouthpiece. Lit up a cigarette to show why he was sitting there with his thumb over the mouthpiece. Waited for the older cop to fill in four blank lines on a short form. Smiled weakly when the guy gave him a fleeting look.
Jacob had been temporarily reassigned to the evidence locker. His partner, Darrell O’Rourke, had died on the operating table undergoing surgery following a colonoscopy. He felt cheated. O’Rourke survived knee surgery long enough to complete his evaluation report on Jacob. But damn. The big slob up and died before turning it in. So Jacob came up with this crazy scheme to break into O’Rourke’s house, steal the report, alter it if necessary, then sneak into the captain’s office and plant it on his desk. The neighbor’s damn bloodhound dog sniffed him out before he even got started.
The officer lay the piece of stiff paper in a wire basket, nodded goodbye.
“I’m back. How can I help you this time, Miz Donovan?”
“You can start by calling me BJ. And I’ve decided to take your advice. I need to visit the old well in order to write an accurate description.” She lightly rubbed her forehead to ward off a headache. “I don’t understand why I can’t visualize the place. Seen one water well, you’ve seen them all. Right? Anyway, something blocks the scene every time I try to put it together.”
He got a spiral notepad out of his shirt pocket. On the other side of the room, Detective Northcutt conversed with a man Jacob didn’t recognize.
“Today’s Wednesday,” Jacob murmured, noisily turning the lined sheets of paper to the page where he’d written this week’s schedule. “Next two days I work the night shift.” He raised his voice. “They’re finally putting me in a patrol car by myself, for the first time. Mm, Saturday. I’ve got the day shift. How about Saturday evening? Say around five-thirty? My shift’ll be over at four, but I might want to grab a sandwich, and change out of my uniform.”
“Works for me. I hope you know I appreciate the help you’ve given me so far, in particular, the story idea. Which do you prefer? For me to meet you at the police department or at the café next door?” Any place other than my house. Or my restaurant, she thought.
“It’d be less complicated to just give you the address and have you meet me at the farm. You never know. I might have some unfinished business here at work to take care of.”
And I can’t hang around the police station until you’re done? Northcutt’s face materialized in her head. She’d rather not run into him. “All right.”
Unsure if the men were still in back of him, and preferring not to turn and look thus drawing unwanted attention to himself, Jacob whispered the address to BJ.
She jotted down the information. “See you Saturday.”
“Bye.”
Jacob shut off his cell phone.
Turned it back on.
Then cut it back off.
Dammit.
He didn’t want any more calls from her, but he couldn’t risk her calling the department asking to speak with a frickin’ detective named Raynor Schein.
With his shift nearly over he began collecting his things off the desk, and packing them in a knapsack. His mind’s eye went to the gas gauge in his car. Three-quarters of a tank. Good enough. It occurred to him a few minutes ago that he better head on over to the farm today since it’s his only chance to go. He wouldn’t be on the day shift again until the weekend.
Jacob hadn’t been there in a long time. He needed to see if there’s anything at the farm BJ Donovan should not see.