Crisis Shot Read online

  There was no sprawling metropolis here like you saw on approach to LA, miles even before you got close to the airport. She saw what she thought had to be Medford, with a ribbon of highway running through it that must be Interstate 5. Tess felt herself calm somewhat. If this was to be her exile, at least it was a beautiful place.

  The airport was simple to navigate, small, compact, and Tess was in her rental car less than thirty-five minutes after she disembarked.

  Checking her watch, she realized that if she drove straight to Rogue’s Hollow, and it only took forty minutes, she’d be two hours early. Despite the enchantment she’d felt viewing the valley from the air, she didn’t feel like sightseeing. It was cold even though the sun was out, only puffy clouds dotting the sky now—bone-chilling cold, a shock to her Southern California constitution. Firing up the heater, she decided she had time for an early lunch and a visit to the county sheriff’s department.

  Rogue’s Hollow was in Jackson County. She’d done a little research, curious about the organizations she’d be working with and around. It had been astonishing to her how large an area so few officers were responsible to cover. But, she had to remind herself, the population they served was so much less than LA County.

  A sheriff’s deputy might be able to help give her perspective.

  She found a restaurant off Interstate 5 called Elmer’s and picked at a salad. While she ate, several friends texted her good luck wishes. Jeannie had been sad at the thought of Tess moving so far away, but she understood.

  “I know being a cop is more than just a job for you,” she’d said when she dropped Tess off at the airport. “But I’ll miss you so much, it’s not funny.”

  “You can always come visit.”

  Tess tried not to think about life without her close friends a short drive away. It was hard enough to visualize life without LBPD. She found the sheriff’s department easily, off Highway 62, the same highway that would take her to Rogue’s Hollow.

  She parked and got out of her car about the same time a tall, good-looking blond deputy stepped out of the station.

  Tess caught his eye and saw confusion, then recognition, then confusion again.

  He stopped his progress to his car, hooked a thumb in his belt, and said, “Uh, hello, can I help you?”

  Tess stepped up onto the sidewalk. She was barely five-six and generally had to look up to everyone; it was no different with this deputy. His name badge said S. Logan.

  “Sure, Deputy Logan.” She held her hand out. “Tess O’Rourke.”

  He gripped her hand in a firm, warm handshake. “I thought I recognized you. Steve Logan.”

  “You recognized me?” Caught off guard a bit, Tess stiffened. But she’d been all over the news for weeks; didn’t it make sense that anyone who wasn’t living in a cave would recognize her?

  “Yeah, we’ve been watching everything going on down south.” He shook his head. “Sorry things got so sketchy for you there. You did a great job. Should be hailed as a hero, not as . . . well, what they’re saying.”

  “Thank you.” Tess felt her face redden. Sometimes it was harder to take a compliment than a criticism.

  He seemed to sense her hesitation. “What brings you up to our neck of the woods?”

  She explained about the interview.

  “Oh, Rogue’s Hollow. That’s right; they’re short a chief. They actually hired a guy from Grants Pass for the job last month, but he dropped dead before he could be sworn in.”

  “Oh” was all Tess could manage with this info and an awkward second passed before Logan cleared his throat and continued.

  “I’m sure you’d make a great chief. It’s a quaint place, has its own vibe. The sheriff isn’t in, if you wanted to talk to him.”

  “No.” Tess checked her watch. “I just had a few minutes to kill and was hoping to find out the pressing issues in this county from the street level, and a little bit about mutual aid.”

  He smiled. “I’d be happy to answer any questions. I don’t make it up to the Hollow often, as much because it’s quiet there as because I’m usually assigned to White City.” He motioned to a bench. “I’d take you inside, but they’re painting and the fumes will knock you out.”

  Tess had noticed the utility truck, the ladders, and the paint. “That’s okay. I only have a few minutes.” She shoved cold hands into her jacket pockets and sat next to Logan, glad the bench was in the sun, the familiar creaking of his leather comforting. He was one of those men who exuded testosterone, a masculine presence, something Tess was used to and knew had its positives and negatives. They were the hard chargers, but they could also be the hotheads.

  What was Deputy Logan? she wondered as he filled her in on the basics of law enforcement in the Rogue Valley.

  –––

  “Thank you, Commander O’Rourke, for flying up here for this interview.” Mayor Doug Dixon welcomed Tess, and he seemed warm and sincere, which helped beat out the last remaining butterflies.

  This wasn’t a grand jury; this was a small city council looking for a qualified and committed police chief. Tess was certain she fit the bill.

  There were four city council members, and thankfully Tess didn’t have to memorize their names; they all had nameplates on the dais in front of her: Casey Reno, Adeline Getz, Cole Markarov, Forest Wild, and the mayor in the center.

  First came the easy part: they asked her for an opening statement and she told them the truth—she’d wanted to be a cop all her life and eventually the chief of a department. Law enforcement was an important part of any community because quality of life was important. If people didn’t feel safe where they lived, there was no quality of life.

  The question and answer was the hard part. Cole Markarov in particular was antagonistic. Casey Reno was less so, but Tess didn’t think the woman was on her side. Forest Wild didn’t ask any questions, but he listened, and Councilwoman Getz asked about her knowledge of budgets. But Markarov made the biggest impression.

  “You were just on trial for a serious crime; is that why you want to leave Long Beach?”

  “Technically I was never on trial. No charges were filed—”

  “You sat before a grand jury, correct?”

  “The grand jury makes a recommendation as to whether an indictment is warranted. They found no wrongdoing on my part, no reason for an indictment to be issued. Additionally, I was cleared by a district attorney’s shooting team.”

  “But they investigated this horrible shooting? This boy, what was he? Fourteen?”

  Mayor Dixon interrupted, “Cole, we agreed the topic of this interview is her ability to work here in Rogue’s Hollow; we’re not rehashing the past.”

  They went back and forth for a few minutes, and Tess knew that Markarov did not want to hire her. What about the rest?

  As they finished, the last question asked came from Casey Reno. “Tell us honestly, why do you want to leave Long Beach?”

  Tess took a deep breath. She could only give an honest answer to that question and hope that it flew.

  “Mrs. Reno, in all honesty, the reason is the shooting. While I am certain I did nothing wrong, the controversy surrounding the incident makes it impossible for me to do my job effectively.”

  “What makes you think it will be any different here?”

  “I can only hope that people here will examine the facts and not be swayed by emotional rhetoric.”

  Tess was in her car, driving back to the airport a few minutes later. The negatives of the interview were tap-dancing in her brain and she felt crushed by a growing pessimism about her situation.

  7

  Pastor Oliver Macpherson sat back and listened to the debate bouncing around him. Rogue’s Hollow urgently needed a new police chief. The city had hired one several weeks ago, but he died of a massive heart attack before being sworn in. In the scramble for a qualified replacement, the city council had narrowed down the list to one name—a controversial name—and so the debate raged. He’d sat in on the
city council process many a time, but this was a first for him, the process to select a police chief. Oliver wanted to hear all sides, vowing to stay quiet unless asked and to help give the highlighted application impartial consideration.

  The applicant had flown in for an interview. Oliver hadn’t been asked to sit in on that, but he’d been told that she’d acquitted herself quite well. According to Addie Getz, the woman answered every question thrown at her solidly, even antagonistic questions, and gave good, logical, thought-out answers. According to Mayor Douglas Dixon, it was the interview that sold him.

  “Professional, thoughtful, experienced—just what we need,” he’d said to open this meeting. And the debate had started there, mostly between Dixon and Councilman Markarov.

  Cole Markarov, local bed-and-breakfast owner, was one who’d asked hostile questions at the interview, and he was probably the most animated member of the council at this meeting. He didn’t want to hire the woman, and that didn’t surprise Oliver. The council’s first choice had been Cole’s friend and he’d pushed hard for his hire. Oliver didn’t think any replacement would satisfy Cole and especially not a woman. Cole didn’t think any woman was up for the position of police chief, an opinion he’d voiced often.

  “A woman doesn’t have the judgment to lead,” he’d said.

  “She killed a fourteen-year-old, for heaven’s sake,” he said now, throwing his hands up dramatically.

  “A fourteen-year-old who looked thirty and was trying to take another officer’s gun.” Mayor Dixon continued to lobby for the applicant and stand up for her, which surprised Oliver a bit. Doug generally had an aversion to controversy, and controversy was written all over this woman. He wondered if there was an ulterior motive and then stopped himself. Doug needed to be given the benefit of the doubt. He’d said the woman would be an asset to the town; Oliver should take him at his word.

  “So she says,” Cole huffed. “There’s no video of the incident; she could say anything.”

  “Doug,” Casey Reno, owner of Rogue’s Hollow Bookstore and Notions, spoke up.

  Oliver leaned forward; he respected Casey as a thoughtful person and valued her opinion.

  “I know this woman is qualified. She’d probably have no trouble running our small department. But as much as it pains me to admit it, I’ll have to agree with Cole. She could have snowed us in the interview, told us what we want to hear. All the press she’s gotten, none of it is good. According to the local paper in Long Beach, even before the shooting, she had a reputation for cockiness, for bending the rules.”

  Oliver didn’t miss the look of triumph Cole shot the mayor. Raising an eyebrow, he sat back. It wasn’t looking good. Rogue’s Hollow had simple—some said outdated—bylaws. Between the mayor and the four council members, the applicant needed a simple majority vote to be hired, but if two were solidly against, and so far only the mayor was solidly for, the math was tight. As Casey noted, she was more qualified than their first pick had been, overqualified, really. She’d run a police division in a large department, supervising around 150 officers plus another ten civilian employees. Here in Rogue’s Hollow, she’d be supervising eight officers plus three civilians.

  “If she really was a problem before the shooting, why wasn’t she fired?” Dixon asked. “How could she rise to such a high rank?”

  Oliver thought that was an interesting point. With all the bad press she’d gotten, if this woman were a proven problem employee, any city would have been justified in her firing. She hadn’t been fired, but according to Addie, during the interview, when asked why she wanted to leave, she seemed honest in stating, “The controversy surrounding the incident makes it impossible for me to do my job effectively.”

  While Dixon pleaded his case to Casey, highlighting another truth that the woman never had an officially documented negative performance review, Oliver turned his attention to the last two council members: Addie Getz, co-owner of Rogue’s Hollow Inn and Suites, and Forest Wild, owner of the gas station and auto repair shop that bore his name, Wild Automotive. They were studying her résumé and hadn’t said much.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance,” Oliver’s wife, Anna, had said that morning over breakfast. “I have a feeling about the woman. I believe she’ll be a good fit here.” Anna’s prayer group had been praying for a new chief ever since the old one retired nearly a year ago.

  “Perhaps,” Oliver had said with a nod, happy Anna was engaged and smiling after the last round of chemo. “But she might need some divine intervention. You’d have to have been in a coma to not hear or read about how bad this shooting looks.”

  Anna reached across and patted his hand. “Now, Ollie, we both know things can get distorted when politics are involved. She was never charged with a crime. My heart tells me she’s okay. A little grace is called for now. Pray for the council, that they give her a fair chance. She deserves at least that.”

  He smiled and put his hand over hers. “I will. I do trust your feelings more than I would ever trust a news article.”

  Oliver was not a member of the council. He attended meetings only to offer the opening prayer and guidance if requested. Because the council sought to be transparent, this was a public debate. The other non–council members in the room were some people with business interests in the area: the mayor’s brother, Roger, the manager of the market in town, and his wife, Helen; Bart Dover, manager of a local organic farm; Beto Acosta, CEO of a large, valley-wide home security company called Platinum Security Systems, or PSS; Pete Horning, owner of the Hollow Grind, a local coffee shop; Gwen Owens, the city treasurer; Arthur Goding, a local gadfly who sat in on every meeting; and a group of people Oliver knew were interested in changing Rogue’s Hollow’s policy on cannabis sales. Oliver couldn’t tell what their thoughts were. Arthur was playing on his phone, and the others were simply listening.

  There was also an off-duty Jackson County sheriff’s deputy in attendance, Steve Logan. He didn’t live in Rogue’s Hollow but in Shady Cove. Oliver had spoken to him earlier, and he’d said he was simply interested in seeing how the process worked.

  Earlier, when the debate started, a couple of Rogue’s Hollow officers had been in the back of the room, listening. But they were forced to leave when Tilly Dover, a local homeless woman and Bart’s sister—Oliver noted how Bart ignored her completely—had disrupted the meeting.

  Tilly was a tortured soul Anna and Oliver had tried often to help. She’d been in and out of jail for the last few months, only recently returning to town. Instead of being happy about her release, she’d been uncharacteristically angry about something and profane, but Oliver couldn’t understand what she was going on about. When she’d started throwing things, Cole jumped in before Mayor Dixon did and asked the officers to escort her out. Since they hadn’t returned, Oliver guessed the poor girl had been arrested again. Tilly battled mental illness as well as drug addiction, and at times, like this morning, she seemed beyond help.

  While Oliver considered everyone in attendance, he noted that so far, no one had inquired about their opinions concerning the applicant. What would Oliver say if they asked him?

  Keeping Anna’s remarks in his mind, he prayed quietly for guidance. Was this California cop worth a shot?

  “It’s time to put this to a vote,” Dixon said, crossing his arms. “We’ve been without a police chief for eight months; that’s too long. This woman has miles more experience than the next applicant on the list. She can start right away.”

  “That’s another thing.” Cole ground his teeth, faced scrunched in disbelief. “What makes you think that if she does come, she’ll even stay? She’ll be bored out of her mind in two weeks.”

  “We know where you stand, Cole.” Dixon shot him a look of pure impatience. “That’s one nay.” With an exaggerated turn of the head, he looked at Casey. “Casey?”

  She rubbed her forehead and Oliver saw the struggle in her face.

  “I can’t get past ‘fourteen-year-old boy.’ My dau
ghter is fourteen, for heaven’s sake. Afraid I’m a nay as well.”

  Dixon looked disappointed but he moved on. “Forest?”

  Forest tugged on his beard, the perpetual twinkle in his eye making Oliver smile. He’d never known Forest to be down or unhappy about anything.

  “I say give her a chance. Aye.”

  Cole grunted.

  “Addie? You’re the tiebreaker.”

  “That I am.” She drew in a deep breath and looked at Oliver. “Pastor Mac, do you have a feeling one way or another?”

  “He’s not a voting member,” Cole groused.

  “I just want to know what he thinks. You’ve had your say, Cole.”

  Oliver stifled a smile; sometimes Cole was more transparent than a four-year-old. “I’m inclined to offer a little grace here,” he said, injecting Anna’s sentiment. “I think she deserves a shot.”

  Addie considered him for a moment. They went way back. She’d been on the church committee that hired Oliver eighteen years ago. Her nephew was the newest hire on the Rogue’s Hollow police force. But she had a mind of her own, and he knew she’d only agree with him if she were partway there already.

  Addie nodded. “Okay. Well, I liked her at the interview. Struck me as sharp as a tack. I’m an aye.”

  Dixon beamed. “The ayes have it. We have a new police chief.”

  Oliver noted that the decision made Beto Acosta happy. His business was home security. He’d been tight with the last chief and was pro law enforcement.

  The cannabis people huddled for a discussion. Oliver wondered if they thought maybe a top cop from California would be more tolerant of the idea of pot shops in town. Just about everyone prepared to leave.

  “If she takes the job,” Cole sneered as he stood, sour grapes obvious.

  Dixon ignored him and motioned to Gwen, who also doubled as their scribe, to enter everything into the record. “The letter offering her the position will go out in the morning.”

  As they closed out the council meeting and stood to leave, Oliver wrote down the woman’s name, Tess O’Rourke, in his journal and promised to pray for her. If the divided council was any indication, if she did take the job, she was going to need a lot of prayer.