Benefit of the Doubt: A Novel (16 page)

“Don’t kid yourself, Ben,” Tia said. “Oakland’s loss is our gain. You’ve been a great sergeant.”

“Yeah? Somebody better tell Chief Jorgensen. I think McKenzie has been giving him an earful. I’m starting to think my days at NPD are numbered.”

Tia thought Ben would go on, but he turned the conversation to her. “Tell me about this time you spent in the Marines. You’ve never really talked about it.”

“Yep. Four years. Most of it good. Got a little dicey at times.”

“How so?”

“I was an interrogator in Afghanistan for most of my hitch, doing what they call black-bag ops. Dark locations. Capturing and interrogating high-level targets, that sort of thing.”

“You mean like speaking in Arabic kind of interrogation?” Ben sounded surprised.

“Farsi, actually. It’s a Persian language that a bunch of very bad people in Afghanistan speak. It was my job to get them talking.”

After four beers, Ben didn’t hold back. “What the hell, Suarez? I thought you were Mexican? You speak … what did you call it? Farki?”

“Farsi. I have a way with languages. Apparently it comes from growing up bilingual. A few months of formal training, then an immersion program. Leave it to the Marines to exploit my impoverished upbringing.”

“That’s wild. What kind of stuff did you do?”

“Like I said, mostly interrogations. Intelligence collection and analysis. Developing intel to give to the spec ops guys, and believe me, you don’t even want to know what they did with it.” She paused smiling, now giving a wink of her own. “Let’s just say it was probably a little worse than memorizing an eye chart and more along the lines of forcing a guy to suck on a pistol barrel.”

Ben laughed. “So you’re like that group of clowns who took the pictures of naked guys in pyramids? The dog collar thing?”

Tia feigned insult. “Oh, hell no. That juvenile shit was a bunch of army jail guards. Dumb-ass rednecks on a power trip. No, my team was a little more sophisticated than that and a whole bunch more imaginative, you might say. Most of the time we kept it civil, but if we didn’t, we damn sure kept it out of the papers. But hey, the stakes were high. Lots of lives on the line.” She took a long pull from her beer. “Like they say, war is hell.”

There was a long silence between them, but it felt comfortable and appropriate. Tia broke it.

“So how do you do it? I mean, after working in a place like Oakland, how can you stand it around here?”

“You’re asking me? Sounds like you had some adjustments to make yourself.” Tia waited while Ben seemed to give more thought to the question. “Alex and I both grew up here. We know this town. Here, we’re connected. In Oakland, I felt like a mercenary or something. Cops need to be invested, otherwise we’re just hired guns and it’s easy to lose perspective.”

Tia nodded in understanding. “I hear ya, but a bunch of our guys grew up in Newberg and still don’t give a rat’s ass. Like McKenzie, for one, and I don’t get a great feel from Jorgensen. I don’t give a shit if he is the new chief.”

“Screw McKenzie, and it’s really not about who runs the show.” Ben gave Tia a long look and spoke more seriously. “As far as the average shit-bag crook is concerned, it’s not our job to go around handing out any kind of street justice. I’m not proud of what I did. Hell, it got me run out of a good department, and rightfully so. I can see how that kind of shit might fly in a combat zone but not in our line of work. Not in police work. Not Oakland, not here. Nowhere.”

Tia felt her respect for the man grow. She flashed back to the desert and the times she wondered if maybe her team jumped to a few conclusions. Some interrogations lasted for hours, if not days. Frustration reached a breaking point, and the rule book was tossed aside. But unlike the city of Oakland, there was no one there to yell foul. The faces of men young and old alike began to pass through her mind until Ben’s voice refocused her on the present.

“Anyway, I like the idea of being a cop where I grew up. I feel good about it. You should too.”

Tia looked to her boss and saw that his eyes had turned to the house. She followed his gaze and saw Alex at the kitchen window looking back at Ben, uneasiness on her face. Tia wondered how much of a mark the whole Oakland experience had left. The story had been news even in Wisconsin; she couldn’t imagine what it was like in Oakland. It probably tested the relationship, no doubt about that. Tia looked on as Ben smiled at his wife, and felt certain these two were together for the long haul.

Tia turned her attention to the darkening evening sky. The temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees in the last hour.

“I should probably be hitting the road, Sarge.”

Ben stood and extended his hand to pull Tia from her chair.

“I don’t think so. You drank four of those. That means you’re camping here.”

“I’m fine. I’ll just be careful driving home.”

“Nope. There’s a nice room over the garage. Key is under the mat. Bed, TV, shower, whatever you need. Pull the door shut when you leave in the morning.”

“Really, I’m fine—”

Ben cut her off. “Bullshit, you’re fine. At your weight, with four brews you’re about a point one three, so forget it. You’re not driving until tomorrow.”

Humbled, Tia gave in. “Yes, sir. I appreciate the concern and hospitality.”

As she reached the garage, Tia turned back one last time. She looked through the kitchen window where Alex was busy at the sink, washing dishes. Ben came into view, then stopped behind her and looped his arms around his wife’s waist. Alex settled into his embrace, then wiped her eyes with the back of a soapy hand.

Tia wondered if what she saw on Alex’s face was grief or joy. Feeling vaguely like a Peeping Tom, Tia turned away and let the Sawyers have their moment.

TWENTY-ONE

“She seems like a nice gal. But you forgot to mention she’s a stone fox.”

Ben and Alex lay side by side in bed, sharing the last beer of the day. The weather had grown cold and the wind had picked up. The forecast called for temperatures to drop thirty degrees in the next twenty-fours and the weatherman had threatened snow. Winter had returned, at least for a while, but some warmth had found its way into the Sawyer home. Alex propped herself up on one elbow, dressed only in one of Ben’s sleeveless workout jerseys, and took a long taste. Ben could see from her neck clear down to her navel and thought that she still had the body of a coed athlete.

“You’re right.” Ben laughed. “I mean you’re right, she’s a nice gal and a good cop. Most of us turn into real assholes after a few years, even in little old Newberg. But not Tia.”

“I know a cop who’s been around a lot longer than that and he’s still a pretty neat guy.”

“You’re biased.”

“Course I am. I love the guy.” Alex fell against her husband and stayed there.

They still hadn’t talked about the episode in the coffee shop from the day before. At this point, they could probably get away with pretending the whole thing had never happened, but neither of them had ever been good at that.

“Benny, you know that, don’t you? That I love you?” She pulled back to look at him. “All we’ve been through, I couldn’t love anyone else.”

“I know.” Ben knew what his wife was getting at. “I’m sorry about what happened—the thing with Louis yesterday. I acted like an idiot. But I swear it was like that time in high school. Remember? Our senior year when we broke up for a few days?”

“That was your idea, pal. Seems like I remember you had a rep as the big jock. Thought you’d sow some wild oats or something.”

Ben dismissed the comment. “Whatever. I just remember it was all over the school by lunch, and guys were falling all over themselves to step in. Couple of ’em were friends of mine.”

Alex laughed at his interpretation of the memory, but Ben was serious.

“Really. I had that same feeling the other day, that I was losing you. I hated that feeling when we were in high school and I hated it even more yesterday.” Ben said, looking straight into her eyes. “We’ve been through a lot, and I guess we’re hanging in there. But I don’t think I could survive losing you, I really don’t.”

She kissed her husband softly on the face. “The one thing you never have to worry about is losing me. Ever.”

She kissed him on the mouth and he responded, kissing her hard and pulling her close. His hands explored freely over her body. Alex climbed on top of him and smiled. She sat up straight and straddled his chest. She balanced herself, resting the fingertips of one hand lightly on his skin, then tilted her head back and drained the last of the beer. She set the bottle aside and pulled off her shirt. Their gazes locked.

They were a little clumsy. It had been a while. But for the better part of the next two hours, husband and wife enjoyed an affection that they had never shared with anyone else, and that they knew with an absolute certainty they never would.

TWENTY-TWO

The black Crown Vic entered the deserted county park just as the sun disappeared below the horizon. McKenzie got out of his own car and made his approach, surveying the parking lot one last time. It was empty. The Crown Vic slowed to a stop. The limousine tint on all four windows left McKenzie feeling unsettled and determined not to show it.
He’s gotta be alone.

Better be. This was a private matter. McKenzie gripped the gun in his coat pocket and waited.

A moment later Jorgensen emerged, and McKenzie forgot all his apprehension as he took in the chief’s appearance. He felt like a slob, standing there in his jeans, T-shirt, and denim jacket while the big man was dressed to the nines in a tailored suit, looking like a page from a big-and-tall mail-order catalog.

“Any sign of him yet?” Jorgensen asked, scanning McKenzie from head to toe. His gaze settled on McKenzie’s hand buried in his pocket.

“All quiet, Chief. Maybe he checked things out and decided to give it a pass. Would kind of make sense, considering the circumstances. Or hell, who knows. Maybe it is all just some wild-ass coincidence.”

“Seems unlikely.”

Always the man of few words,
McKenzie thought. Easier to defend or deny in the future. McKenzie knew no such caution.

“If Harlan Lee does come to town, Chief, it ain’t going to be a problem for you. I’ll take care of it, just like Chippewa Falls. And don’t worry. You’ll be a hundred percent off the radar.”

“I’m not worried about Harlan Lee,” Jorgensen said. “I’m worried about all the bullshit that can come out of the sort of ruckus he might raise. Somebody plays a game of connect the dots, that could lead to problems.”

“Here’s how I see it, Chief. This Petite guy? He don’t have a clue. And Lipinski? He went six feet under with a toe tag that said child molester. Not a soul outside of family even took notice. But if Harlan Lee shows up here, that’ll be the end of it. He’ll be chum for the pikes and sturgeon in Lake Winnebago.”

“That’s a bold statement, Doyle. Seems to me this fella is on a mission. I’m not sure he’ll be easily dissuaded.”

“No worries, Chief. I got eyes on the street. A convict of his pedigree will stand out. Just a matter of paying attention and knowing what to look for. Leave it to me.”

Jorgensen leaned against his car.

“If it’s all the same to you, Doyle, I’d like to take a few precautions.”

“What you got in mind, Chief?”

“I pulled our local case file regarding Mr. Lee. I want you to make sure there’s no other paperwork out there. Computer entries, evidence files, all that stuff—I want it purged. If anybody notices what you’re doing, tell them it’s related to a joint task force narcotics investigation. Need to know only.

“I called up to Florence County. Scott Jamison is the sheriff up there these days. He’s all over it. Says it’ll be like Harlan Lee never set foot in Florence County. I’d like to think I could get the same assurance from you.”

“Seems like you’re going through a lot of trouble here, Chief. If you’re worried about old Lars Norgaard, I can look out for him. I figure—”

“The hell with Norgaard,” Jorgensen said with more emotion in his voice than McKenzie was used to hearing. “Lars can sink or swim on his own.”

“Okay, then I guess I gotta ask what’s the big deal? You seem to be puttin’ a lot of energy into this. For what?”

Jorgensen looked off into the distance. “You let me worry about my motives. Just make sure that nobody can walk in and pull this boy’s name off some old, dusty shelf in the PD. You hear me?”

“I’ll take care of it, Chief.”

“See to it. Don’t miss anything.”

“You got it, boss,” McKenzie said. “Chances are Harlan’s had his fill. Give him a week and I’ll bet we find him tucked away in that shack of his up in Florence. He’ll be easy enough to deal with.”

Jorgensen opened the driver’s door of his car and tucked himself into the leather upholstery.

“You know, Doyle, Sawyer warned me about you. Says you talk a good game.” Jorgensen paused, sizing the man up. “But I’ll be judging you and your future prospects based on results.”

Doyle watched as the black sedan pulled away, leaving him alone in the parking lot. He couldn’t help but think back to his days as an independent freelancer. Not as profitable but a whole lot less stress.

TWENTY-THREE

Harlan approached from behind. The old man was facing the setting sun. The daughter had left, and based on his observations during the past few days, Harlan figured it would be at least ten minutes before an orderly showed up to wheel the man back to his room.

The sunroom stood empty accept for his target, who sat with eyes closed, dozing and grunting to himself. Sure not the man he once was. Not the man he was last time they had run across each other. Harlan took one last look over his shoulder, then closed in. He pushed the wheelchair toward the most secluded part of the room. The sudden movement made the old man jerk, and his raspy breath immediately grew heavy.

“If memory serves, you were a bit spryer back in the day, weren’t ya?”

The old man cocked his head, and Harlan could see Lars struggling to turn, but his body wasn’t cooperating.

“You probably can’t even wipe your own ass, huh? Somebody’s gotta spoon-feed ya and all that sorta bullshit. Hell, I guess you’d welcome a bullet in the head right about now, wouldn’t ya? I’m here to tell ya it won’t go that easy.”