And There He Kept Her (Ben Packard #1)(29)
“I heard the girls’ bathroom story from Ron Callahan yesterday. Was he in any trouble before that?”
“Not at all,” Overby said.
“Who else in this school is dealing?”
Overby sat up taller. She buried her chin in her throat, and her head twitched like a pigeon’s. “I beg your pardon. You make it sound like the school is just a front for the Chinese opium den I’m running in the basement.”
Packard held up his hands. “I didn’t mean to imply that at all. It sounds to me like Jesse made a rookie mistake—he sold on school grounds, someone narked on him, and he almost got caught. I’m just wondering… If he’s the new guy, who’s training him? Who did he take over for?”
“I’m not naive. I know there are drugs in this town, and I know students are using them. We both know about the Wilson girl who overdosed at the start of the school year. But where the drugs are coming from? And who? I honestly don’t know.”
“No suspicions? No rumors?”
Overby looked like she was thinking, like she was about to speak, but then she shook her head. “No. Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“I don’t have a name to give you. I’m sorry.”
Packard told her about the phone records and the pattern of calls to and from Jesse’s burner. “I’m going to come back after lunch with a list of names who’ve called him most recently. I want you to tell me which ones are students, and which ones you’re most surprised to see on the list. Then we’ll call them to the office and have a chat, one-on-one.”
“What about notifying their parents first? What if they want a lawyer present?”
“Nobody’s being charged with anything. Nobody’s going to need a lawyer. Whether they’ve bought or used drugs is the least of what I’m interested in.”
Overby looked dubious. “You already have a pretty good suspicion that Jesse sells drugs. So what are you hoping to find out by questioning the other students?”
“Anything. Anything at all.”
***
A green minivan with Sandy Lake Gazette printed on the side pulled into the parking lot as Packard was backing away from the school. Ray Hanson leaned out of the minivan’s window and waved at Packard to get his attention. Packard stopped reluctantly.
“Detective,” Ray said. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know. What’s going on with you?”
Ray was wearing a thin blue windbreaker with a white VFW logo on the front. He had a graying beard, thick lenses in oversized wire frames, and a bald spot on the back of his head. Ray was owner, publisher, and editor of the Sandy Lake Gazette. If you called it a newspaper you’d be half-right. It was little more than an ad rag filled with syndicated content, a community calendar, and high-school sports scores. Ray Hanson was no journalist.
“One of my delivery girls says two of her classmates are missing. One of ’em is Tom and Susan Wheeler’s daughter. Is that why you’re here?”
Packard stared straight ahead. “Nope.”
“Who’s the other kid? My girl didn’t know his name for sure. Are they together?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ray.”
Ray scoffed. “So what are you doing here then?”
“Playing Officer Friendly. Stay in school, kids. Don’t do drugs.”
“Bullshit. That’s Ron Callahan’s job. You know, all I have to do is call my source in the department to find out what’s really going on.”
Packard’s dislike for Ray Hanson was warranted. Ray used his paper as a lever for or against you, depending on what you would or wouldn’t do for him. After Packard was appointed acting sheriff, Ray had approached him about writing a monthly crime column for the Gazette. (“I can’t pay you, of course, but think of it as a public service to the community.”) When Packard passed, the next issue of the Gazette contained an unsigned editorial accusing the county board of making a mistake by allowing the newest member of the sheriff’s department to be appointed acting sheriff while Stan Shaw sought treatment for his cancer.
“Let me tell you something, Ray. Your source in the department is Kelly, and she doesn’t tell you anything I haven’t told her to tell you.”
“You’re wrong. It’s not just Kelly. Besides, the community deserves to know—”
“Ray, when I have something to tell the community, I’m going to reach out to a real newspaper, not one whose front page is entirely covered by an ad for used cars.”
Packard took his foot off the brake and put up his window. In his side mirror, he saw Ray leaning out of his car, his mouth still moving as the SUV left him behind. Packard smiled. Pissing off Ray Hanson was one of the perks of the job he enjoyed the most.
***
As much as he wanted to, Packard couldn’t ignore the rest of his responsibilities and just focus on the whereabouts of Jesse Crawford and Jenny Wheeler. He drove out to Lake Redwing and posted a foreclosure notice on a luxury cabin whose out-of-town owners had stopped making mortgage payments. He peered through a narrow window alongside the door into a large room with cathedral ceilings built from yellow knotty-pine logs. All the furniture was gone. A vacuum cleaner with its cord unspooled looked like a lonely robot that had had an accident.