John Gilstrap - Damage Control

Something clicked in Gail’s head. That was a big change of heart in a very short time. Was Harriett looking for a reason to be alone with Gail? If so, was that good news or bad news? The most dangerous threats are the ones you don’t anticipate.

“She’s not going to be happy,” Volpe said.

Gail was about to say that she’d be a lot happier than these two would be if she arrested them, but she caught a look from Harriett that made her swallow the words. Besides, she didn’t have the power to arrest anyone.

“I’ve got this, Paul,” Harriett said. “You can go back downstairs.”

Volpe didn’t like it. “You sure?”

“You almost started a gunfight,” Harriett said. “Nobody needs this to escalate. It’s between Sheriff McLain and Dr. Mitchell now. I’m stepping out of the middle.”

Volpe actually looked to Gail for support-an effort that lasted only a second.

“It’s not a security issue, Paul,” Harriett said, sealing the deal. “Let me do my job. You go back downstairs and do yours.”

That final comment felt to Gail like a throw-down, leading her to believe that these two had a past.

No one said anything for about ten seconds as the situation evolved into an uncomfortable standoff. Harriett wouldn’t even give Volpe the tiny victory of walking away from him. Instead, she waited while he rang for the elevator and disappeared behind the closing doors. At least the car came quickly.

When they were alone in the lobby, Harriett turned to Gail. “Okay, what’s going on around here?” Her tone was more plea than demand. “Why is everyone so crazy?”

Gail’s stomach flipped, but she covered it. “What do you mean?”

“You’re a cop,” Harriett said. “And you’re here. Please don’t play games. I’m scared.”

Jonathan Grave often said that life was one big poker game. Now, Gail had to play her hand carefully. “I’m here to help, Ms. Burke. But you must understand that my business is with Reverend Mitchell. I’m happy to listen to you and answer the questions I’m able to, but I can only be but so forthcoming.”

That sounded really good, she thought.

“Something terrible has happened in Dr. Mitchell’s life,” Harriett said. “I don’t know what it is, but it’s affecting everything. She looks terrible. She’s stopped taking any visitors. She’s positively gray.”

“Perhaps it’s the sex scandal,” Gail offered. Cops were all about advocating for the devil.

“No. That was an embarrassment and a distraction. I was here for that. That was never as big a deal as the media made it out to be.”

Gail scowled. She was a minister who had sex with a seventeen-year-old boy. How was it possible to make a big enough deal about that?

“Please don’t judge,” Harriett said.

So much for Gail’s poker face.

“You don’t begin to understand the pressures that Reverend Mitchell is under.”

“I’m not here about any of that,” Gail said. Just speaking of this stuff made her feel like she needed a shower.

“I understand,” Harriett said. “This new thing. I have no idea what it’s about but I know it’s bad. It’s tearing her apart.”

Gail’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her jacket and looked at the number. Fisherman’s Cove. “Excuse me,” she said to Harriett. She turned away and pressed the connect button. “Hello?”

“Are you alone?” It was Venice, and there was urgency in her tone.

“No.”

“Oh.” Disappointment. “If you can extricate yourself from Jackie Mitchell, we have better leads for you to follow.”

“That’s not possible,” Gail spoke harshly, as if confronting a subordinate. She hoped that Venice would be able to read between the lines.

“Quickly, then,” Venice said. She relayed the news about the Georgens and the Cantrells. “We were thinking that it might be better to build from the bottom up instead of starting at the top.”

“I’ve got it,” Gail said. She clicked off, staying in character even as her mind raced for the best way to go. Fact was, she was already here. While a direct confrontation with the head of the snake would likely result in a fusillade of denials, it was sometimes helpful for an adversary to know that you knew they were up to no good.

On the other hand, you only got one shot at a first drink from the well. If Jackie Mitchell outmaneuvered Gail and got the upper hand, Mitchell could get the first shot at the Georgens and Cantrells, causing them to clam up forever.

Gail decided to play the hand she’d been dealt. “Sorry about that,” she said, turning back to Harriett. “What do you suspect the problem with Dr. Mitchell might be?”

“I have no idea.”

“Now who’s playing games?” Gail accused. “You engineered this opportunity to be alone with me. People who ‘have no idea’ don’t do that.”

Harriett took three steps over to the little sofa that sat along the wall opposite the elevator doors and sat down heavily. “I only screen the phone calls, you know? I don’t listen to them.”

Gail sensed that she was supposed to know what Harriett was talking about. “Except sometimes,” she helped.

Harriett tried to look wounded, but in reality looked like she’d been caught in the act.

“You brought it up, Ms. Burke,” Gail said.

Harriett inhaled deeply to prepare herself. “I’ve only done it a couple of times. When I thought that Dr. Mitchell might get taken advantage of. You can tell from the tone in some people’s voices. She can be so trusting sometimes. Naive, even. That’s actually how she got involved with that boy. He swore to her that he was eighteen.”

“Again, I don’t care about that,” Gail said. “What did you hear on the phone calls?”

“There were a couple. It started with this creepy guy named Abrams. He had a thick New England accent, and just gave me the creeps. He had a scariness about him.”

Gail’s heart skipped. She’d dealt with a similar malevolent presence in the past. That name wasn’t Abrams, though.

“Do you know him?” Harriett asked.

Great intuition, Gail thought. “I don’t think I know anyone by that name.”

Harriett didn’t look like she bought the answer a hundred percent, but she didn’t pursue it. “Well, Abrams would call on behalf of Mr. Hainsley, a major contributor to the Crystal Palace. He would talk to Dr. Mitchell and arrange off-site meetings.”

“Where?”

“All over Scottsdale. Always in a public place.”

“How many meetings?”

“A lot. Ten or twelve, I’d guess.”

“And who is Mr. Abrams?”

“I have no idea. Dr. Mitchell never mentioned him, and since I wasn’t supposed to be listening, I couldn’t bring it up.” She dropped her voice by half. “Thing is, Dr. Mitchell always said yes to the meetings.”

“That’s significant?”

“Sheriff McLain, Dr. Mitchell runs an empire, okay? You have no idea how many moving parts there are, how hard she works. If she didn’t say no to people-frequently-she’d never have time for anything. It would all fall apart.”

Gail waited for the rest.

“She didn’t just say yes, okay? She dropped everything, like right now, to jump through hoops for him. She’d be gone for a couple of hours, and when she got back, it was like she’d sold a part of her soul. Whatever it was, it was eating her alive. I hated seeing that. She deserves better.”

“You must have some idea of what’s going on,” Gail said.

Harriett started to say something, but checked herself. She geared up again, and again stopped. This time, the silence prevailed.

“Does it have something to do with the kidnappings in Mexico?” Gail fired the question like a weapon.

“You know?” Harriett gasped.