At the other end a paper-piled desk, a computer, file cabinets. The man standing behind the desk, talking into a telephone, was tall—taller than Cecil. His clothes were thrift-shop stuff, like everyone else’s at Tomorrow House. Pushed back on his shaven head was a baseball cap with the lettering Boss. When he saw Dave, he gave him a quick pro forma smile, and stepped around behind the desk. Now Dave could read the message on his T-shirt. Don’t Ask Me. You Are The Answer. He hung up the phone and shook Dave’s hand.
“Mr. Brandstetter?” He waved at a stiff varnished chair. “Sit down, please. What can I do for you?”
Both men sat down. Dave said:
“I know what you told the police about Rachel. But you didn’t say anything about Cricket Shales. He was a drug dealer, I gather he was a user.” He glanced around. “Saving people from drugs is your life work, right? Didn’t you know Shales?”
“Only what Rachel told me,” Jordan Vickers said. “I would have helped him if I could, but it was too late then. He was already in police custody, awaiting trial.” Vickers spoke with precision, shaping his phrases. “Rachel I was able to do something for.”
“So I’m told. You became more than her counselor. You became her lover. You’re funded in part by the county. You hold a position of trust.” He pointed at a framed certificate on the wall. “Was your behavior ethical?”
Vickers shrugged coldly. “It was natural. And I don’t see that it concerns you.”
“She came here after finding Shales’s body near her apartment,” Dave said. “Asked you for advice. You advised her to go to the police. She refused.” Again he looked around him. “Where did she come, exactly? To that door—the back door?”
“Yes. She didn’t want to encounter anyone else. She knew where I sleep. She came to that door and knocked till I woke up.”
“When had you gone to bed?” Dave said.
Vickers scowled. “What difference does it make?”
“Did you know Shales had been released from prison?”
“What? Why—yes, no. No, I didn’t.”
“Wasn’t Rachel afraid of Cricket? Wouldn’t it have been a natural thing on your part to keep tabs on him so as to protect her from meeting him again? You certainly couldn’t have thought he’d help her rehabilitation.”
“Mr. Brandstetter.” Vickers opened both long hands above the heaped desk. “I have twenty lives to look after here. Everyone in my care gets every minute of attention I can give them. It’s me and them against a world of parole, welfare, bail bonds, prosecutors, police and sheriffs, and enough red tape to wrap up the known universe. No, I didn’t know Cricket Shales had been released from prison.”
“When did you go to bed that night?”
Vickers sighed impatiently. “I don’t remember. I’ve tried to train myself to quit work at midnight, no matter how much unfinished business remains. I’m getting better at it. No choice. I’ll be no use to anybody if I get sick.”
“When you go to bed, who takes over? Do you alert some member of your staff?”
“My only staff are people in the program. They live here. Our rule is lights out at ten,” Vickers said. “No. I’m the only one up late. The telephones are back here. One is by my bed. There’s also a very loud bell”—he pointed over the office door—“the kind they ring in school hallways, to wake me if someone in trouble comes to the front door.”
“So there’s no witness to when you went to bed.”
“What do I need with a witness?” Vickers scowled. “What are you implying?”
“When did Rachel arrive? Cricket died at midnight. The little boy she kidnapped says she drove around ‘a long time.’ He must have said he was hungry. She stopped and bought him a chili dog and an orange soda. Then she stopped again, somewhere, and put him into the trunk of her car. She told him she had to talk to somebody. That would be you—right?”
“I don’t understand about the
“Mr. Brandstetter?” He waved at a stiff varnished chair. “Sit down, please. What can I do for you?”
Both men sat down. Dave said:
“I know what you told the police about Rachel. But you didn’t say anything about Cricket Shales. He was a drug dealer, I gather he was a user.” He glanced around. “Saving people from drugs is your life work, right? Didn’t you know Shales?”
“Only what Rachel told me,” Jordan Vickers said. “I would have helped him if I could, but it was too late then. He was already in police custody, awaiting trial.” Vickers spoke with precision, shaping his phrases. “Rachel I was able to do something for.”
“So I’m told. You became more than her counselor. You became her lover. You’re funded in part by the county. You hold a position of trust.” He pointed at a framed certificate on the wall. “Was your behavior ethical?”
Vickers shrugged coldly. “It was natural. And I don’t see that it concerns you.”
“She came here after finding Shales’s body near her apartment,” Dave said. “Asked you for advice. You advised her to go to the police. She refused.” Again he looked around him. “Where did she come, exactly? To that door—the back door?”
“Yes. She didn’t want to encounter anyone else. She knew where I sleep. She came to that door and knocked till I woke up.”
“When had you gone to bed?” Dave said.
Vickers scowled. “What difference does it make?”
“Did you know Shales had been released from prison?”
“What? Why—yes, no. No, I didn’t.”
“Wasn’t Rachel afraid of Cricket? Wouldn’t it have been a natural thing on your part to keep tabs on him so as to protect her from meeting him again? You certainly couldn’t have thought he’d help her rehabilitation.”
“Mr. Brandstetter.” Vickers opened both long hands above the heaped desk. “I have twenty lives to look after here. Everyone in my care gets every minute of attention I can give them. It’s me and them against a world of parole, welfare, bail bonds, prosecutors, police and sheriffs, and enough red tape to wrap up the known universe. No, I didn’t know Cricket Shales had been released from prison.”
“When did you go to bed that night?”
Vickers sighed impatiently. “I don’t remember. I’ve tried to train myself to quit work at midnight, no matter how much unfinished business remains. I’m getting better at it. No choice. I’ll be no use to anybody if I get sick.”
“When you go to bed, who takes over? Do you alert some member of your staff?”
“My only staff are people in the program. They live here. Our rule is lights out at ten,” Vickers said. “No. I’m the only one up late. The telephones are back here. One is by my bed. There’s also a very loud bell”—he pointed over the office door—“the kind they ring in school hallways, to wake me if someone in trouble comes to the front door.”
“So there’s no witness to when you went to bed.”
“What do I need with a witness?” Vickers scowled. “What are you implying?”
“When did Rachel arrive? Cricket died at midnight. The little boy she kidnapped says she drove around ‘a long time.’ He must have said he was hungry. She stopped and bought him a chili dog and an orange soda. Then she stopped again, somewhere, and put him into the trunk of her car. She told him she had to talk to somebody. That would be you—right?”
“I don’t understand about the
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