What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(68)

“Would it work?”

“Depends on the bribe.”

“Salumi.”

“Not on the diet.”

Tracy’s shoulders sagged. “Hot sopressata or meatball?”

Melton held out his hand. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I don’t want to contribute to your delinquency.”

“Sopressata,” he said, motioning with his hand for Tracy to hand it over. “I’ll eat a salad for dinner. I’m beginning to feel like a damn rabbit.”

Tracy handed Melton the hot sopressata sandwich and sat in the chair across his desk. They opened the wraps and dug in. Melton took a bite and made a face like he’d died and gone to heaven. “My God, I’ve missed food.”

They caught up on private lives and talked shop. Tracy told Melton about Dan’s home project.

“Maybe it’s a midlife crisis,” he said.

“Trying to get his mind off a tough case,” she said. “Lost a client to suicide.”

She told Melton all of Daniella’s latest tricks and abilities, though she knew Melton had seen it all before. He had six daughters. Five were married. The youngest, Patricia, was working in Brazil.

“She’s gay,” Melton said in between bites of his sandwich. “She called us in the middle of the night to let her mother and me know.

Woke me from a sound sleep. I thought someone had died. I was relieved.”

“How did Linda take it?”

“She told Patricia we’d known for years and to call her back at a reasonable hour. I asked Linda why, if she knew, she’d never shared this news with me. She said it was Patricia’s decision when to tell us.”

“You didn’t know?”

“Suspected. Didn’t know.”

“You good with it?”

“Absolutely. My aspirations for her are no different than for my other five daughters. I hope she pursues what she’s passionate about, finds someone to share that passion who makes her happy, and together they can be a family.”

The pleasantries aside, they got down to the reason for Tracy’s visit. Melton told her he had extracted DNA samples from two of the three cases she had sent over and was continuing work on the third, which was more problematic, but with the improvements in DNA processing, he remained confident they’d get a sample.

“Thanks, Mike. I needed this.”

“You sound like you’re back working under Nolasco. Who do you have to answer to? Aren’t you a team of one?”

“Chief Weber has taken an interest.”

“In cold cases?” He made a face like he didn’t believe it.

“Seems she should have enough on her plate.”

“Annual battle with city council for funding is coming up. I think she’s worried the cases in Curry Canyon are losing their bloom. This might be the most important council meeting SPD has ever had.”

“They won’t defund,” Melton said. “They’ll talk a good game about things like sending social workers into domestic disputes, but not one of those social workers is going in without an officer, and as soon as everyone realizes that downtown Seattle is now a graveyard, the way it was in the 1980s, and homicides and gun violence are up, the pendulum will swing back the other direction. It always does. Money talks, and tourism is going to take a huge hit.”

“Anyway,” Tracy said, wrapping up half her sandwich. “The three cases should be enough to appease her.”

“Something else bothering you? You don’t seem your normal self. No engaging me in battle with your gift of repartee?”

Melton could read people, likely because being a dad to so many children gave him a sixth sense.

“I’m working another case and it’s becoming more and more clear that some bad things happened at a very high level of the department, and possibly the government. I just found out two people I know and respect might have been involved.”

“And you’re worried that pursuing the case might jeopardize their careers?”

“I don’t have all the facts, but it definitely looks to be headed down that road.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Melton lifted the paper in which his sandwich had come and carefully tilted it toward the garbage can so as not to have crumbs cascading on his keyboard. Then he wadded the paper and dropped it in the pail. “Here’s the thing I’ve come to learn about my job. You can decide if you can relate or not.”

“Okay.”

“I get requests from people like you to run this test and that test, to analyze this and that, compare this thing with that thing. What I decide will impact someone’s life, maybe even an entire family. It might send a father or a mother to prison. It may cost them their jobs. Any number of things. But the consequences aren’t because I did my job. In very rare circumstances do I become vindictive. Most of the time I’m just doing what I get paid to do. The consequences are because of the actions a person chose to take, whatever that person’s reason or justification. The consequences lie with them. Not me. You know who told me that?”

“Who?”

“Cerrabone.”

“Rick?”

“After he got a conviction, then sought and obtained a death sentence. It would be a hard thing to stomach if you couldn’t separate the outcome from the job. You just do your job, Tracy, and the chips will fall where they fall. You get me?”