Chapter

Nate knew normally officers, especially rookies, were not often allowed to interrogate. They had lieutenants for that, since they were a little too small for detectives. But being the arresting officer had its perks, and Lieutenant Hilton helped him, doing most of the talking.

“So, how long have you been following Dove Babcock?”

“I want a deal,” the man said.

“Excuse me?”

“If you want a confession from me, I want a deal.”

“Please. This is the clearest case we’ve had in a while. Why would we give you a deal?”

“I can tell you who hired me,” the man said.

Lieutenant Hilton stopped his slow, perfunctory gait for a moment. “You were hired?”

“Of course. You think I did this for kicks?”

“As a matter of fact, I think you did.”

“How did I know her name?”

“Easy. You’re a stalker.”

“I’ll tell you who hired me, and I want probation.”

“Sure, probation after a few years in jail, maybe.”

“Fine. He’ll just hire someone else, though, and this will start all over.”

The chief opened the door. “O’Bannon, Hilton, I want to talk to you.”

Nate walked out, and Hilton followed.

“I think we should make the deal. Tell him six months jail time if we get a conviction.”

“Very well,” Hilton said, and walked back in. Nate followed. “Let’s hear it,” he said.

“For no jail time? I want it in writing.”

“It’s recorded. Six months jail time and three years’ probation, as well as a fine, on conviction.”

“On arrest.”

“No, on conviction.”

“I don’t want to be punished for your poor police work.”

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it. We can go to court. Between the stalking and the breaking and entering, you can get two years. Is that what you want? Because with how pervasive you’ve been being, we’d push for it.”

“Fine. I’ll take it. Officer Trevose.”

“What?”

“Officer Trevose. He hired me.”

“And why in the world would he do that?”

“She held his kid back a year.”

“It’s third grade.”

“I didn’t say it made sense. I just said I was doing my job.”

“Your job is to stalk people?”

“Hey, I don’t insult what you do for a living. I didn’t have a weapon, and I didn’t ever threaten her life. I just peeked in her window a few times.”

“In three different places.”

“How do you think I always knew where she was? The precinct wasn’t exactly quiet about it.”

“If this is some kind of joke, it isn’t going to help your case.”

“I’ve already been paid by him. Why would I joke?”

“Do you have any proof of this?” he asked.

“I recorded all our phone calls,” he answered.

Hilton looked at Nate. They both knew Officer Trevose. Nate didn’t know him well, but he did know he had a kid in the third grade, again. He didn’t know if he blamed Dove for that, but he supposed that wasn’t impossible. He didn’t like blaming a cop, but he didn’t see why the man would say he had phone calls if he didn’t, and he didn’t see how he could have phone calls without it being decisive. It only seemed to make sense.

“Well, a cop can take you to go get those conversations, and then we can make the arrest.”

“The recorder was in my pocket. It’s in evidence now.” he said. “I try to always be prepared for an arrest.”

“Go get it, O’Bannon,” Hilton said. Nate listened, and came back a moment later holding the evidence bag. Hilton pressed play through that.

“Hello?” the man said on the recording.

“She’s at the Rustic Motel now. Don’t go to her house till I tell you.”

“Roger,” he said, and hung up.

“I don’t know that that’s convicting,” Hilton said, but Nate thought it certainly didn’t look good.

“Listen to the first one,” the man said. Hilton skipped a couple of messages.

“Hello, is this Ice Tea?” Trevose said into the phone.

“This is he.”

“I have a job for you.”

“Who’s the target?”

“Dove Babcock, out on 332 King Street. Just some mild stalking. And maybe after a bit visit her at the school? I want her out of there.”

“Which school?”

“Ashford Falls Elementary, classroom 3.”

“You got it. You should know I don’t do weapons or threats.”

“Understood,” Trevose said. “I’m sending your initial payment to you now.”

“Then you’ll hear of it soon,” Ice Tea said. Then he hung up. Ice Tea in the real world said, “See?”

* * *

“What’s your real name, Ice Tea?” Nate asked.

“Brandon Stottlemeyer.”

“Well, Brandon, I think it’s time for us to talk to the DA,” Hilton said. Then he walked out of the room. Nate followed.

“Go, make the arrest, O’Bannon,” the chief said. Nate was surprised. Lieutenant Hilton was there, after all. He also realized he didn’t know what particularly Trevose had done wrong, even though he clearly had made a mistake.

“What for, chief?”

The chief seemed to flounder for a moment, then said, “Stalking.”

Nate nodded. He hoped such a charge could stick. He walked over to Trevose. “Hands behind your head, Trevose.”

“What?” the man asked with a laugh.

“Just do it,” Nate said, and his voice had the commanding presence he heard from other cops when they dealt with hardened criminals. Trevose listened. Nate grabbed his hands and pulled them back into the handcuffs. “Greyson Trevose, you’re under arrest for stalking. You have the right to remain silent.”