“I think so. I think, like, unless it’s like disrupting a funeral or inciting a riot or something, disorderly conduct isn’t even a misdemeanor. Assault in the third degree – that is though...” She set the phone aside. “I bet they suspect him. I bet the cops went to the judge and told them they suspected him, figured they’d keep him in jail while they searched for physical evidence…”
Jessica appeared in the doorway. Lennox straightened up in his chair, like a child caught passing notes in class. Jessica paid him no mind and her eyes drilled into Bobbi. “The police are coming down to talk to you. I’ve asked to stay in the room.”
Bobbi was hopeful; maybe they were coming to tell her she was in the clear.
Jessica looked at the computer on Bobbi’s desk. “Frozen again?”
“Yeah. Just seized up.”
“Well, police are just talking to Trevor right now. As soon as they’re finished with him, he’s going to come around and see what the problem is. These friggin computers… I think they…” She trailed off, dropped her arms, and ducked a look into the hallway. Then she turned back to Bobbi and said, “Here they come.”
A moment later, Investigator Nelson stepped into the doorway.
“Good morning. Sorry to just barge in like this.”
Lennox wasted no time getting to his feet and excusing himself. He shot Bobbi a parting look, winked, and then he was gone.
* * *
“Can I come in?” Mike spoke like Jessica wasn’t there.
“Yes,” Bobbi said. “Have a seat.” Her nerves were rattling like a diesel engine.
He came into the room, smelling faintly of cologne, and sort of drifted into the chair where Lennox had been sitting, like he’d been in the room 100 times. Jessica was the one who seemed out of place. She closed the door and looked around, as if expecting someone to produce another chair out of thin air. Bobbi rarely saw people in her office, and when she did, not more than one at a time. Folding chairs in a hall closet would do the trick.
“You want me to…?” Bobbi started.
Jessica waved an impatient hand in the air. “Investigator Nelson has questions about your case, Roberta, the one that Harriet was taking care of on Thursday night.”
Mike had a file with him and slid out a packet of papers. “This is for you. As a records owner of your various cases, along with Mrs. Rankin, you can be released from confidentiality. At the moment this only applies to your discussions with me. A judge is overseeing this and will continue to oversee anything that may be introduced as evidence in the case.”
Bobbi took the papers he handed her and slowly sat back down. So much for being let off the hook.
“We’ll generate an affidavit from this,” Mike went on, “and you’ll sign it, and we’ll do that as we go. That’ll be how we handle the disclosures for now. Does all of this sound okay to you?”
Bobbi leafed through the papers, losing the concern for herself, instead thinking about the cases she’d been handling since she’d started working for DSS. Every person she dealt with in her line of work expected anonymity. What happened in this room, or out on a call, was confidential. It was true that cops were already privy to much – in many cases they were the ones who called Bobbi’s people. But in other instances there were no police, just caseworkers and supervisors and civilians looking to make things right for a child, or children.
“So you already know about Grayson Fuller,” she said. “His parents not having family in the area – and Gavin, the father, is in county jail…”
“Right,” Mike said. His eyes were kind, but insistent. “I need to know about your other cases.”
“How does that… Am I compelled here? By the court?” She lifted the papers from her lap. “I appreciate this, but… do I have some time to digest this?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t have much time to prepare you. I don’t need to tell you we’re trying to move quickly on this. To answer your question, this is not a writ. This is voluntary. We could compel you as time goes on, but we don’t want to.”
Bobbi glanced at Jessica, who looked like she was doing everything in her power to keep her mouth closed. For the first time, Bobbi felt a kinship with her supervisor. Jessica could be prickly, but she believed in confidentiality and was a strong advocate for her workers, and her own clients. She looked ready to explode all over the cop.
“Mike…” Bobbi began.
He raised his eyebrows, smiling faintly.
“… this puts me in a tough spot,” she finished.
“I know it does, and again, I’m sorry.” Instead of a suit, he was wearing jeans, a black V-neck T-shirt and a black sport coat. He was a cop, it seemed, who actually carried a little style. She didn’t know if that made him more trustworthy or not, or if it mattered. Probably not.
“I want to help,” she said. “Of course I do… I want to do everything I can. Is there another way, though? These people expect me to keep their lives private.”
“Exactly,” Jessica said in a burst. She needed to vent, or she was going to erupt.
Mike eased back in the chair, subtly nodding. He looked out the window a moment, like Lennox had. The yellow excavator was there, a small but impressive machine used to landscape the edges of the new parking lot. Then their eyes connected again. “Here’s what we can do,” Mike said. “Take that paperwork home, give yourself a chance to digest it, as you say. Go through your cases. Think about anyone who… who may have been particularly upset when they had their child taken, like the Fullers. Or even someone who just didn’t like getting a complaint against them, an investigation, whether it wound up indicated or not.”
“These are my cases…” The fear was back, crawling beneath her skin. “Is this because…?”
“They’re your cases, but Harriet was your supervisor and oversaw them. In some ways she’s more responsible for outcomes than you are, is that fair to say? Sometimes she makes a judgment call?” He glanced at Jessica, whose skin looked tight, and said, “Supervisors have to make some hard decisions, from what I can imagine. Maybe some life-changing decisions for certain people.” His gaze slid back to Bobbi. “We’re looking, too, at all the cases local police and state police have worked with your organization, any releases of information. We’re all just hoping something stands out. I’m not just asking you – I’m asking other caseworkers, too, so please don’t feel singled out.”
He rose to his feet and Bobbi suddenly felt guilty, like she’d been uncooperative. But she couldn’t help it. “What about her brother?”
Mike didn’t respond, just looked at her with the same gentleness in his eyes.
“You asked me over the weekend about her brothers.” Bobbi pointed to her phone on her desk. “And in today’s paper it shows in the police and fire calls that Steve Pritchard was arrested.”
“Yes, and charged.”
“But I, ah…” She glanced between Mike and Jessica, and she decided to let it go. Here she was concerned about her own sphere of privilege with clients, and Mike was a cop with an open case.
“We’re actively pursuing all leads at this time,” he said. “And at this point we haven’t ruled anything out.” He stopped before leaving the room. “I know how difficult this must be for you. I promise I’ll let you know more as soon as I can.” Then he nodded at Jessica, who stepped out of the way, and showed himself out.
Ten
He lay on his back, fingers interlaced behind his head, and tried to push them out of his mind. Their faces jeering, voices echoing in his head – get the fuck away.
He thought about the woods.
He’d always liked the woods and had memories of being among the trees as a child, reaching out as he trudged along, forming his hand into a claw to rake his nails over the moss covering the bark, ploughing ragged rows.
I was here.
Some people called the woods a cathedral.
But they were stupid people who took Instagram photos. The real woods were shitty; the real forest was tough, filled with biting insects and everything that slithered and growled. People romanticized shit they knew nothing about.
They had the wrong ideas. So many wrong ideas so much of the time. They were the blind men and women surrounding the elephant. Each one had a different guess what it was, but no one actually knew, no one understood eternity.