Part 27 (1/2)
”ID!” Reyes barked.
”On my belt, left side.”
She stepped closer and lifted his coat hem, then let the coat go and plucked the star from his belt, then stepped backward in an extension of the same motion. There was a long silence-ten seconds, going on forty-five minutes-while she studied it. Finally, she said, ”Relax.” She holstered her gun and handed back his star. ”Why didn't you identify yourself as a police officer?”
”I wasn't on police business.”
Neither Reyes nor he could think of anything to say, and there was a long, uncomfortable silence. Anticlimax.
The moment ended when a white-s.h.i.+rted cop charged out of the back. A sergeant. ”What's going on?” he asked Reyes.
”Just a little misunderstanding.”
”What was that about a gun?”
”Detective Thinnes is armed.”
The sergeant looked from Reyes to Thinnes to Rob, then shrugged and went back where'd he come from.
Reyes let her breath out with exaggerated care. ”I guess I can save the sermon.”
Thinnes glanced at Rob, who looked like the survivor of some major disaster. Served him right. ”Yeah,” he told Reyes. ”Sorry.”
She must've have given Rob the word before Thinnes got there, because she nodded and said, ”'Bye, Rob.”
Rob's good-bye sounded like a small, scared child's.
The only time he'd ever hit the kid was accidentally, while trying to teach him how to defend himself against bullies. Thinnes had been hit as a kid and raised to believe hitting was a parent's right. But when Rob was small, he'd been afraid to hit him, afraid he'd hurt him. And Rhonda'd been opposed. As the boy grew older, Thinnes discovered he didn't need to hit him for discipline. Rob had him on such a pedestal that a simple ”No!” would almost send him into a depression.
And seeing the horrifying results, in his job, of parental discipline gone haywire made Thinnes come to accept the idea that parents shouldn't hit their kids. Ever.
But there were times you'd like to. Like now.
As they walked out of the Safety Center, Rob said, ”I'm sorry!”
”Hmpf.”
”Aren't you going to say anything?”
Thinnes stopped. ”What's to say? You know better than this.”
”She could've shot you!”
”She didn't. Don't worry about it. And don't say anything about it to anybody.”
”Don't you even want to know why?”
”Why?”
”Forget it.”
Thinnes didn't push. Sooner or later, Rob would tell him. ”Why didn't you call your mother?”
”I did. They said she was gone to a meeting and wouldn't be back for the rest of the day.” He started walking again, stopping when he got to the car. He looked in. ”Where's Toby?”
”Who's Toby?”
”Our dog.”
”We don't...You mean the one I brought home yesterday? The one Animal Control was supposed to pick up today?”
”Yes.” Rob seemed almost afraid to say it.
”Maybe you'd better start talking.”
”I heard you call them. And after you went up to bed, I called them back and said they didn't need to come after all. I used redial.”
”I see. How long did you think it would be before I found out?”
Rob looked at him out of the corner of his eye; Thinnes could see the wheels turning.
”Not long. Just until you asked me what I want for Christmas.”
”What do you want for Christmas?”
”Toby.”
”What about your mother?”
”She's cool.” Thinnes waited. ”She said, 'Ask your dad.'”
Thinnes sighed. ”I can't promise anything. Technically, he belongs to West's nephew, but I'll see what I can do. Go wait in the car.”
Thinnes walked back into the Safety Center, up to the window. ”What's the procedure for bonding out a dog?”
Fifty-Four.
Ordinarily, Animal Control would take the dog to the pound, where it would be adopted or ga.s.sed. Then it wouldn't be a problem for the police. But Thinnes wanted the dog-G.o.d knew Rob asked him for little enough. And he wanted it without compromising any case he'd make in the future against Elvis Hale. If Evanger had been around, Thinnes would have asked him what to do about the situation. He'd have been helpful. Rossi wouldn't be. So Thinnes asked the ASA who was hanging around the felony review office.
He was a new guy. ”Jesus,” he said, ”That's property law-not my bailiwick. You're Thinnes, aren't you? They warned me about you.”
Thinnes was beginning to wonder who ”they” were.
When Abner West's building super didn't return three calls, Thinnes decided he'd have to resolve things face-to-face.
”Have you been able to contact West's nephew?” he asked the super when the man opened the door. He could see him thinking about how to answer and added, ”Just tell me the truth,” before he could think of a plausible lie.