And relieved.
“Did you allow a fellow deputy to go alone to a crowded bar to question a potentially violent suspect?” Mona asks.
“I didn’t approve of the approach he was taking.” Henricks’s words might be confident, but his tone makes it sound like he’s drawing breath through a straw.
“The approach? Are you saying Deputy Prescott was planning a violent act, or considering planting evidence?”
“No . . . No, I mean . . .”
“OK, then. Talk to me about this approach you didn’t approve of.”
“He seemed upset. I wanted him to calm down.”
“So in order to ensure calm, you let him go by himself to the Gold Mine?”
The silence inside the station is so thick Luke feels like he’s drowning in it.
“It’s a yes or no question, Henricks,” Mona says quietly.
“Yes.”
“Give me your gun and your badge.”
“You’re firing me?”
“You’re under review. You essentially left a fellow officer in a crowd situation with a potentially violent suspect. That’s unacceptable and you know it.”
As Henricks stares at her, his tongue makes a lump under his bottom lip. His nostrils are flaring like he just ate hot sauce.
Then, slowly—too slowly for Luke’s liking—Henricks detaches his gun holster from his belt and sets it on the empty desk behind Mona. Luke breathes easier once the man’s set the gun down. Then, as he starts unfastening his badge, Henricks says, “I quit.”
“I accept your resignation.” Mona collects the gun and badge as Henricks brushes past Luke.
All eyes are on the shamed deputy as he steps through the half gate next to the dispatch desk. Luke doubts the man will leave without getting the last word.
Henricks spins to face them.
“This is the best goddamn thing to happen to this town since . . . ever. And everyone in here’s acting like it’s the end of the world just because it gave us more work to do. Well, I’m done. I’m done pretending like we gotta turn this whole place into Sunday school or turn back the clock to when we’re nothing but a couple horse farms and a shitty diner and an army fort that got smaller every damn year. We’re going to drive these people away, we keep acting like this.”
“If we don’t let them all beat up their girlfriends, you mean?” Luke asks.
“Fuck you, Prescott. Nobody wanted you back here anyway. Your mother’s dead and your brother’s a criminal. No wonder the best you can do is a serial killer’s daughter.”
“Get out, Henricks,” Mona shouts.
But when Luke says, “Who’s us?” his quiet tone surprises everyone into silence.
“What?” Henricks finally asks.
“You said, don’t come after us. Who’s us, Henricks?”
The man’s face reddens and his lips part, but nothing comes out.
“Maybe I am a little quick tempered for a cop,” Luke says, “but you sure as hell don’t have the temperament to be on the take, loose lips.”
Henricks mutters the word bullshit under his breath several times as he storms out of the station. Luke figures the fact that he couldn’t once say the word while looking anyplace other than the floor is a sign the only bullshit being slung was coming from Henricks.
21
It takes three phone calls to establish that no one matching Lacey Shannon’s description has walked into the new late-night urgent care in town or any of the nearby hospitals. That means she’s either gone back to Trailer City or left town altogether, and right now, Mona doesn’t want Luke investigating either possibility.
Instead, she wants them to sit in her office with the door closed while they both try to catch their first deep breath in five months.
So far, that coveted deep breath is proving elusive. Having Jordy Clements locked in a cell close by does give Luke a newfound sense of control, but he wouldn’t call it relaxing.
“I think I’m going to turn into one of those sheriffs who keeps a flask in my desk like on TV,” Mona says.
“That’s not your style,” Luke says.
“Says who?”
“You barely drink.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll start.” After a moment, she says, “I’m going to have to call the county to replace Henricks.”
“Fine.”
“And maybe get some more people in general.”
“Or we could have a jobs fair like everybody else is doing.”
“What fine specimens is that going to bring to the surface during this golden moment for Altamira?”
“I don’t know. Not everybody who’s rolled into town is a bad apple.”
“You really think Clements is paying people off?”
“I think we’ve got prostitutes for the first time. Saw one giving up belly button shots at the Gold Mine earlier.”
“I’m not hearing anything about shakedowns, or organized crime.”
“Me neither, but still.”
“Why don’t you get out while the going’s good?” Mona asks.
“What?”
“The old Meadows apartment building close to you’s still for sale. Price goes up every week, but nobody’s touching it yet because it’s right by where they’re going to start blasting. See if you can get a loan and, presto, once the tunnel’s done, you’ll be in the real estate business.”