Widowmaker (Mike Bowditch #7)(72)

“About as well as you’d expect.”

He paused. “How are you doing?”

The reason I had called DeFord, I now realized, was in the hope that he would ask me that question.

“Not great.”

“You’ve had a hell of week, haven’t you?” he said quietly. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk with Deb Davies?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. Stacey was supposed to be on that chopper, but she was too sick to fly. It was dumb luck that saved her.”

The same way dumb luck had saved me from Carrie Michaud’s knife, I thought.

“I am not so sure,” DeFord said. “I am one of those people who believe things happen for a reason. We just don’t know what it is until later. Sometimes we never know. But we have to believe there was one. Otherwise, how do we keep going?”

I found myself chuckling.

“What did I say?” DeFord asked, sounding a little irked.

“No offense, but the Reverend Davies is in no danger of losing her job to you.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you laugh,” DeFord said, and I could detect a smile in his voice. “How are your shoulder and arm?”

“Healing.”

“Even with all the running around you’ve been doing up around Rangeley?”

The television flickered from a beer ad back to the game. “You heard about that?”

“Pulsifer told me.”

I should have figured he would rat me out. Damn him.

DeFord went on: “Gary said you’ve been assisting Jim Clegg with information about that missing sex offender.”

“His name is Adam Langstrom.”

“How do you know him?”

I took a moment to consider my words. “I don’t, really.”

DeFord had to mull over my unexpected answer. “So what made you take an interest in him?”

“Langstrom comes from a town where I lived when I was a kid. His background seemed so familiar to me. And I hadn’t been back in those mountains since my dad died.” None of these statements was an actual lie, strictly speaking. “I wanted something to keep my mind occupied, and crossword puzzles aren’t my thing. So I decided to drive up there.”

“Nearly dying is a traumatic experience. Everyone reacts differently to it. When I saw you in the hospital, I was worried about you.”

“Because of my history? I can’t say I blame you.”

The captain paused. “Am I going to receive a complaint about you? Is that why you’re calling?”

“What did Pulsifer say?”

“He said you’re a pain in the ass but a hell of a good investigator.”

“Really?”

“He said you’re wasting your talents, and I should assign you to the Wildlife Crimes Investigative Division.”

I was dumbfounded. Not in my wildest imaginings would I have expected Gary Pulsifer, of all people, to have vouched for me, especially after the way our day had started.

“I told him I agreed,” continued DeFord. “But if we’re going to get the colonel on board, you’re going to need to promise me something first.”

“Anything.”

“Stay out of trouble for a while.”

“I can’t do that, Captain. It doesn’t seem to be in my nature. But I won’t knowingly violate any rules or regulations.”

“Or laws? It would be helpful if you didn’t break any of those.” I sensed a smile in his voice again.

“Or laws,” I said.

He sighed. “I guess that will have to do.”

On the television, the New England Patriots had marched down the field to score a touchdown.

“There’s one more thing,” I added quickly.

He laughed. “There’s always one more thing with you.”

“I want to go back to work. It’s only ten stitches, and they’re healing fast. Can you clear me to return to duty?”

“You’ll need to see a doctor first.”

“But I really do feel fine.”

“And if the doctor agrees, you can discuss the matter with your sergeant. Good night, Mike. Don’t take this the wrong way, but this has been one of the more unusual conversations I have had in my career.”

When I hung up the phone, I realized the agitation I had felt before was gone. I no longer wanted to pull out my hair or scratch off my skin.

Using a package of frozen moose meat from the freezer, I made chili while I listened to the television in the next room. Even the obnoxious announcers no longer bothered me. The Patriots were moving on to the next round of the championships. It felt good to hear other people celebrating.

*

Stacey never called back that night, and I couldn’t say it surprised me. She had never been forced by her superiors to see a counselor in the aftermath of a fatality or a traumatic event. No one had ever encouraged her to give voice to her grief and guilt. As a result, she maintained her heart as a sort of Pandora’s box. Keep everything locked inside, and it will all be fine. The problem was that sooner or later, that box was going to open, and that was when her demons would come flying out.

All I knew for certain was that talking with Captain DeFord had helped me. I felt better for having asked for help.

Even so, the thought of having almost lost Stacey kept me awake late. My mind churned around and around, reliving those terrible minutes between my conversation with Charley, when I had feared she was dead, and the near coronary experience of having the phone ring and hearing her voice on the other end.