![]() | ![]() |
SHOVING HIS INSECURITIES aside as nonsense, Gordon marched into the room, hand extended. “Gordon Hepler, Sir. Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.”
Laughlin stepped from behind his desk and gripped Gordon’s hand. Firm, strong, but not a demonstration of one upmanship. “Sit. Relax. Coffee?”
Laughlin’s office didn’t include a coffee maker, and doctor’s orders or not, asking for decaf in a police station would get Gordon laughed out of the building. He sat. “No, thanks.”
“The mayor forwarded me your CV,” Laughlin said. “You haven’t been in your position very long. Why the change?”
Gordon stuck to his decision to be honest and open. “Frankly, sir, Mayor Butler’s invitation to come for an interview came as a total surprise. I like where I am, but I wanted to see what Pine Hills had to offer before even thinking of moving. Exploring my options.”
Laughlin flashed a knowing smile. “So, you’re interviewing us. I can tell you, Pine Hills is your typical small-town police force. We have two detectives in charge of investigations, but everyone pulls whatever duties are required. Most of their investigations run to stolen property, neighborhood disputes. Violent crime rate is low, but we have enough of the everyday variety to keep us busy.”
“Sounds very much like Mapleton.” Gordon figured there was no point in building up to the question that would have the most influence on his taking the job, should it be offered. “If I may ask, what about you, sir? Given this is a small town, do you do police work or is your job purely administrative?”
And would I have to wear a suit?
“Almost purely administrative.” Laughlin narrowed his eyes, as if trying to discern whether the answer was the one Gordon wanted to hear. “Over the past few years, we’ve had a couple of homicides, and I worked with Detweiler and Kovak—our investigators—to make sure I was abreast of the cases, but no, I rarely put on the uniform anymore. You probably noticed I don’t have an admin—budget cuts—but if I get swamped, we have a number of unsworns who can pick up admin duty slack.”
This wasn’t the time to ask how much liberty Gordon would have if he ended up as Chief here. He knew enough to understand implementing change should be done gradually.
“Being a small town, I assume you rely on the county law enforcement offices to help when things exceed the scope of your manpower and lab work. What’s the relationship like?”
“Mutual respect,” Laughlin said. “There’s always a backlog, but when we need help, they’re good about prioritizing, and we return the favor whenever we can. I’ve got a good team here, and County knows we’ve got the chops.”
Gordon nodded his approval. “I have one question, a subject that’s come up in Mapleton. Does your department use body cameras?”
Laughlin shook his head. “Not at this time. There was some heated back-and-forth with the town council a year or so ago, but given our low crime rate and the types of crimes we see, we opted to use our budget allocation for a Live Scan fingerprint system.”
“We’ve been considering that as well,” Gordon said.
“Getting immediate results beats having to let a bad guy loose because there’s not enough evidence to hold him until rolled prints work their way through the system. We’ve actually caught a couple of crooks because of Live Scan. The council was pleased that the system proved they’d made a good decision.”
“Always good to keep the council happy,” Gordon said.
“You’re familiar enough with the everyday demands of the job, I imagine,” Laughlin went on. “Would you like a tour of the station, meet some of the troops?”
“Of course.” Gordon rose and let Laughlin precede him into the hallway.
“This is the bull pen,” Laughlin said, opening a door. “Duty officer has his own desk, but everyone else grabs what’s available. Each officer has an assigned laptop. Reports are filed electronically.”
Gordon did a quick count. Nine desks, arranged in rows of three, two occupied. A tenth sat to one side, where a woman—late thirties to early forties, he estimated—worked at a computer. Laughlin made his way to her desk. She stood when they approached. Laughlin waved a palm, motioning her to sit.
“Faith Nolan, Gordon Hepler. Faith is duty officer for this shift. Mr. Hepler is visiting from Mapleton, Colorado. He’s on the job there. I thought I’d show him around our shop.”
She extended a hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”
No-nonsense air about her. Cop’s eyes, he noted as her gaze moved up and down his body. Sizing him up. No point in asking her questions about the downside of working here with her boss standing right beside her. She’d be loyal to the job, to him. Did she know Laughlin was on his way out? Would she assume Gordon was here because of the upcoming vacancy?
“Nice meeting you,” he said.
She smiled and went back to work.
The next room, smaller, held rows of folding chairs. A lectern stood at the front. “Briefing room,” Laughlin said.
They continued along another corridor, and Laughlin opened a door, revealing the source of the scorched coffee aroma. “Breakroom.” He wandered to a counter at the far wall and pointed to a tray of pastries. “We’re fortunate Scott Whelan’s wife runs Confections by Ashley and sends in her surplus.”
Gordon perused the assortment, very much like what he’d seen in the display case yesterday. “My wife runs a diner and does the same for my department. I think it’s a morale booster.”
Would the two women consider themselves competitors?
“Help yourself,” Laughlin said.
Gordon declined, and they continued with the tour.
“Our lab.” Laughlin tapped once and walked in.
A slender man, a stubble of beard, wearing black cargo pants and an open lab coat revealing a t-shirt that read Science. It’s Like Magic But Real turned as they came in.
“This is Mike Connor. Our one-man CSI show. Gordon Hepler’s on the job in Mapleton, Colorado.”
“You have your own lab?” Gordon’s interest piqued.
“It’s ours, although it can’t come close to what the county offers,” Connor said. “But we can speed the process on the basics.”
Laughlin spoke up. “A number of years ago, a Pine Hills citizen lost someone dear to him, and he blamed not being able to find her killer in a timely fashion on backlogs at county labs. When the CSI television shows sprang up, he thought Pine Hills ought to have something as good as what he saw on TV.”
Connor grinned. “Which we don’t, of course, since that’s all fiction, but he had bucks and clout, and I got some cool toys out of it. Most of the time, it means I can get to the scene faster and collect rudimentary evidence before the county CSIs get there, but they still do the sophisticated testing.”
“Not many small towns have this setup,” Gordon said. “Nice.”
Connor chuckled. “Well, if the crooks are stupid enough to think we don’t catch bad guys here just because we’re a small town, they deserve what they get. If anything, the odds of them getting caught are greater, because we don’t have a lot of major crimes keeping our officers busy.”
Gordon wondered if McKenna would swap body cams for a lab. Maybe even name it after him. A plaque on the door, one nobody but his cops would ever see.
The theme song from CSI carried across the lab. Connor rushed over, held a cell phone to his ear. He grabbed a large black evidence case and said, “Sorry. Gotta run.”