Snitch Page 5

  “Maybe you two should call for backup,” said Capps.

  Jesse pushed Capps out the back door. The bright midday sun made everyone squint. Jesse handed Capps over to another officer and glanced back at Dozer, who was trying to get Brandi out the door without having to heave her over his shoulder like a potato sack. Once outside, he promptly stuffed her into the back of a patrol car.

  “Read them their rights,” Jesse said to the officers standing by their cars. “You might want to emphasize that ‘remain silent’ part to the chick.” Ron pulled a turkey sandwich, an apple, and a baggie full of chips out of a paper sack. It had been a long morning. He had spent the first half narrowing the list of people he wanted to interview for the task force and the second half reviewing the case files. One pattern caught his attention: several of the stolen cars were minivans, some of them later models.

  Someone knocked on his door. He looked up to see a young woman wearing a uniform and a serious expression. “Sergeant Yeager?”

  “Yes?”

  She walked toward him and stuck out her hand. “Mack Hazard.”

  Ron stood and shook her hand. “Hello. Good to meet you.” He offered her a seat next to his desk. Gates had told him this woman would be on the team, and he was curious about what prompted her insistence. He figured he might as well put her through the interview process. He pulled her file from the stack and opened it.

  “Says here that you worked three years in patrol in Boulder City.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “And then you transferred here, still working in patrol.”

  “That’s right.”

  Ron scanned the file again. Although she was certainly a reliable officer and had even been involved in a hostage situation, he didn’t see anything that screamed UC. Ron studied her. She was average build, had shoulder-length blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, and didn’t seem to be wearing a stitch of makeup. “So, Mackenzie—”

  “Mack, sir, if you don’t mind.”

  “You don’t go by Mackenzie?”

  “Not since I could talk and voice my opinion about it.”

  Ron smiled. Okay, so she was opinionated. And, judging by her body language, also trying to make a good impression. “Tell me about yourself.”

  “I love police work, and I love God. I’m a Christian, and I don’t make any apologies for it.”

  “Huh.” Ron looked down at the folder.

  “If that makes you uncomfortable, sir, I’m sorry. But you told me to tell you about myself, and that’s me.”

  Ron closed the folder and threaded his fingers together, thinking about the episode with Pastor Kyle. “Very funny. You almost got me.”

  Her expression didn’t budge.

  Ron cracked a smile. “Let me guess. You want to pray for me.”

  The young woman looked puzzled. “Well, sir, if that’s what it takes for me to get on this team, I’d be happy to. I’ve been praying about it every day, but I will admit it’s been difficult. I want to do this so badly, I’m having a hard time asking God for his will.”

  “Come on,” Ron said. “I’m onto you.” Ron glanced to his doorway and back to Mack. The police department had a long history of practical jokes. The jokes were often what made the days and nights bearable. Ron himself had been responsible for so many practical jokes they’d nicknamed him Jester. “Gates was in on this, wasn’t she? Nan must have told her about our pastor coming over to pray for me. It’s funny. Really. I get it now, so you can stop pretending. But I have to ask, are you really Officer Hazard, or did they hire you to act like her? Are you an actress?”

  “I did work for many years as a clown.”

  Ron couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “A clown, good one.” He looked at her file picture. It did look an awful lot like the woman sitting across from him. “Nan has got to be in on this.”

  “Who is Nan?”

  “So what were your instructions?”

  “Um … I was told that you wanted to speak to me and that I should come by your office as soon as possible.”

  “Come on, drop the act.”

  “What act?”

  “Let’s just get this over with. Go ahead. Pray for me.”

  “Sir, the last time I did that, I nearly got fired. So you’re going to have to give me explicit permission.”

  Ron felt like he was going to start laughing all over again. He looked at her, but she remained seated. “Right. Permission. Okay, permission granted. Get over here and lay hands on me. And make it a good one.”

  “Sir,” she said, “you do understand—God does all the work, not me.”

  Ron couldn’t hold it together anymore and started laughing uncontrollably. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed this hard. He waved the girl over. If this really was Officer Hazard, she was one heck of a prankster, which meant she was most likely going to make a really good UC officer. As she walked to the other side of his desk, Ron stopped her and grabbed her hands, flipping them over to look at the palms. He’d once fallen prey to Jimmy Whatts’s red-dye prank. Jimmy would walk by and give you a friendly pat on the cheek or neck, leaving a bright red handprint that you would only notice if you happened to look in the mirror. He got away with this four or five times before he became Hands-Off Jimmy, and no one allowed him to touch them.

  “Hands off, sir.”

  Ron dropped her hands and cleared his throat. “Oh, uh … sorry.”

  “I’ve done a lot of praying, but not once has anyone ever examined my hands.” A suspicious eyebrow popped up.

  Ron sighed. The joke had definitely run its course. “Make sure you pray about my midlife crisis.”

  “No offense, sir, but I think you’re a ways past the ‘mid.’ But I will ask God to heal your leg.”

  “Okay …” This was getting less funny by the second.

  Ron sat still as she prayed for him. He kept expecting her to start cracking up, but she didn’t. Her prayer was short, to the point, and twice mentioned his “later-life crisis.” Then she returned to her seat.

  “May we continue with the interview?” she asked.

  Ron stared at her, bewildered. He’d known lots of good pranks, but this seemed more like an epic. He was about to tell her this when he noticed Captain Gates standing in the doorway.

  “Sergeant Yeager, I need to see you outside for a moment.”

  Ron stood, grabbed his cane, and walked out into the hallway.

  “Were you in on this?” Ron asked her.

  “What?”

  “The joke.”

  “What joke?”

  Ron glanced toward his office door. “Is that Mackenzie Hazard in there?”

  “That’s what I wanted to speak to you about. She’s … I don’t know how to say this delicately, so I’ll just say it. She’s very religious.”

  “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “I thought I should forewarn you. She’s an excellent police officer, but the whole religious thing could be a lot to manage.”

  Ron’s smile faded.

  “What’s wrong? You’re religious, aren’t you?”

  “I am, but—”

  “Did you see the report on the convenience store robbery? She saved a hostage.”

  “Her file looked good, but she doesn’t have any undercover experience.”

  “She has a lot of potential. She’ll be a good addition to the team.” Gates studied him. “Don’t tell me you’ve never worked with a female undercover officer before.”

  “I have. Just not a former clown.”

  “If the worst thing she has in her record is a clown background, more power to her, you know? Let me know when you’ve got your team assembled. We’ve almost got a location ready where you can set up your operation.”

  Ron watched Gates disappear around the corner. He took a deep breath and walked back into his office. Mack Hazard sat right where he had left her. But she was hunched over, and her hands were clasped together. Was she praying again?

  Wh
en he cleared his throat, she sat upright. “Yes sir?”

  “Sorry about the interruption,” Ron said as he made his way back to the desk. “Now, lets get back to your file, here.”

  “All right.” She stared intently at him.

  “Look,” Ron said. “About that crisis thing … I was just joking. I’m not really having a life crisis.”

  For the first time, he saw her smile. “And I guess that cane is just a prop too?”

  Chapter 7

  Jesse walked into the Henderson police station. It was after five and the office was nearly empty, just the way he liked it.

  He went upstairs to Greer’s office. He knew the chaplain liked to stay later than most, and this was the best time to find him.

  Greer sat at his desk, reading his Bible. His office was a peaceful place—a slice of paradise in the middle of nonstop chaos.

  As usual, Chaplain Greer didn’t notice Jesse standing in his doorway until Jesse said, “Hello, Chaplain!” Jesse laughed as the chaplain picked his Bible up off the floor. “Surprised you, didn’t I?”

  “Yes,” Chaplain Greer said. “Just like you do every time.” He offered a small smile.

  “It’s just too hard to resist.” Jesse plopped down in the leather chair. “I had a weird day.”

  The chaplain set his Bible on the desk and took a deep breath. “Jesse, I am always here for you if you need me. But we’ve talked about this before. I’m not a priest. You don’t have to confess things to me.”

  “You’re not my priest. You’re my good-luck charm.”

  Chaplain Greer shook his head. “Jesse, we’ve been over this. I thought you were working on your superstitions.”

  “I am. Most don’t seem to be doing much good, like the dry ice in my bathtub. And the rabbit’s foot. I’ve outgrown that one, but you are the exception. Ever since the day you prayed for me at the hospital, not one bad guy has pulled a gun on me. And there’s that one other little detail—that I didn’t die.”

  “But like I’ve told you before—”

  “Chaplain Greer, I appreciate your humility. I really do. The police department could use more people like you. God knows there are enough egos around here to warrant a second building. But you and I both know there’s something unique between us. I have to tell you what happened to me today.”

  Chaplain Greer glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to deliver a care package to the Samson house. His wife had triplets.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  “All right.” Chaplain Greer took out his stopwatch. “You’ve got ten minutes. Just remember, no matter how much you tell me about your sin, it’s God who forgives, not me.”

  “I know, I know. So I’m doing a deal this morning, and it goes down as planned, except for the girlfriend.”

  “What about her?”

  “Turns out she was my prom date.”

  “Prom date?”

  “Back in high school.”

  “What a coincidence. Listen, I need to get going—”

  “Wait, there’s more. We arrest her because she’s got cocaine in her purse, right? So then she starts yelling at me and tells me I was a lousy prom date.”

  Chaplain Greer leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Jesse, this is nothing compared to last week when you lost your temper and punched a hole through the wall. And the week before that when you cussed out your superior. I’m not sure being a lousy prom date actually qualifies as a sin.”

  “Well, having to arrest her just makes things worse.”

  “That can certainly dampen a date.”

  “I mean today. I had to arrest her today.”

  “Okay … so what’s the problem, exactly?”

  “You’ve been talking a lot about forgiveness. Maybe I should say I’m sorry.”

  “Maybe she was just angry that you were arresting her.”

  “I thought of that, but … I really was a lousy prom date.”

  Chaplain Greer slid his Bible into his briefcase. “Jesse, as much as I’d like to continue with this, I really do need to go visit the Samsons. They already have three kids. This makes six. These are the sort of people who need a chaplain.”

  “Do you think I should apologize?”

  “Did you ask God?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Proms aren’t my area of expertise.” He stood and reached out to shake Jesse’s hand. “I’m sure you’ll know what to do.”

  “Why won’t you tell me what to do? You always tell me what to do.”

  “Jesse, I really do have a great deal of patience. And I am happy that you are concerned with the moral choices you make. But you have to believe me when I say I had nothing to do with the fact that you made it through that shooting. A lot of people were praying for you. Not just me. The person you need to be thanking is God.”

  Jesse followed the chaplain out of his office. “What good is having a chaplain if he doesn’t help you through things?”

  “I am helping you, Jesse. I promise. I’m helping you by not helping you.”

  He watched Chaplain Greer walk down the stairs and out of sight as his cell phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Lunden?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Jackie Taylor from property crimes in Las Vegas calling on behalf of Sergeant Ron Yeager. He would like you to come by his office this afternoon.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I’m just supposed to ask if you could come by, anytime after three o’clock.”

  “Sure. Fine.”

  “Thank you. I’ll tell Sergeant Yeager you’ll be there.”

  Jesse slid his phone into his pocket. He’d be there. But first he had an appointment with a former prom date.

  Laura waved Ron in. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine. I’ve got a couple of guys coming in this afternoon and one tomorrow.”

  “Good.”

  “I wanted to ask you about these reports. I’ve been reviewing them all morning. Something struck me as strange.”

  Laura set down the papers she’d been holding. “What?”

  “There’s definitely been a spike in auto theft over the past eight months. But there’s an interesting pattern emerging about the kinds of cars that are being stolen.”

  “What about them?”

  “Some don’t fit the profile. Look at this. On the third week of September, three minivans were stolen.”

  “You know you’ve got a problem when minivans are being stolen,” Laura said, grinning.

  “Yeah, I guess,” Ron said. Laura could practically see the wheels turning in his head. “It just seems odd.”

  “The task force was approved in large part because this is starting to affect the middle and upper class. That’s how I had to sell it. But if it doesn’t play well in the press, then it doesn’t play.”

  “I’ve never worked in property crimes. Maybe minivans are a hot item.”

  “They do have those flip-down televisions.”

  “Right.” Ron smiled. “Your dad hated television, didn’t he? He always had his nose in a book. Does he still enjoy reading?”

  Although she prided herself on a good poker face, Laura knew she was horrible at hiding her emotions when it came to her dad. “Dad and I haven’t really … We don’t speak.”

  Ron apparetly needed to brush up on his poker face as well. “Really?”

  “We had a falling out a while back.”

  She could tell Ron wanted to know more. “He didn’t want me going into police work. He was adamant. But that’s all I ever wanted to do. I guess we just don’t understand each other. He’s a stubborn man, and that’s what made him so good at what he did.” She paused. “If there’s nothing else, I need to get back to my work.”

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I want permission to train my team the way I want, with nobody else in the middle of this. We’ve got limited time and a lot
of work to do.”

  Laura nodded, but she was suppressing a smile. Ron Yeager was going to serve his purpose well, and he didn’t even know everything there was to know about that purpose.

  Jesse waited in front of a Plexiglas window for Brandi Brown with the same nervous jitters he had before prom. The last time he’d seen her, she was a petite brunette with a kind smile and a passion for partying. Now she was a blonde, and there wasn’t much kindness in her smile. Then again, she had been arrested by the guy who dumped her for a redhead with a fake ID.

  The door opened and the guard brought Brandi to her seat. Bewilderment and anger flipped back and forth across her face. She picked up the phone when Jesse did.

  “Brandi, you’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

  “Well, I’m not wondering about whether or not my hair looks good in an updo.” She leaned forward. “Mason is a liar. He planted that stuff on me.”

  Jesse studied her drawn face and sunken eyes, trying to find anything resembling the girl he knew from high school. Life had done a good job of beating her down.

  “Look,” she said. “Yeah, I use. Not all the time. I’m trying to get off of it, you know? And I’ve been doing good. I work at the bar. I hold down a job. I have weak moments. But not very often. Mason is the user. You gotta believe me.”

  Jesse had rehearsed what he was going to say all the way to the jail, but now that she was sitting there hoping to get a favor from him, it seemed incredibly awkward, not to mention irrelevant.

  “Brandi, the fact that you were there was a … We didn’t realize you were connected with Mason other than working at the bar. But that’s not why I’m here. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for ditching you at prom.”

  Brandi looked at Jesse as if he’d suddenly morphed into a monkey.

  He continued. “Look, back in high school I was a real jerk. I was just out to party and be an idiot. I’m sorry if I hurt you that night. I really am.”

  “That was, like, a decade ago.”

  “I know.”

  “You came all the way here to tell me you’re sorry for … for … Wait a minute. I thought you got the stomach flu.”

  Jesse looked down. So that was the lie he couldn’t remember. He knew he’d come up with something. Not very original.