Turning, she shined light in the back of the Explorer. Then she exited the front, got into the back. Nothing there. Not even a gum wrapper.
Writing in her notebook, she stopped, leaned back, and cursed herself. She should have thoroughly investigated the car at the scene of the accident. The terrible weather, the removal of the body, knowing she and Rick had to call on Charlene: All those pressing matters had clouded her judgment.
Wedging her torso through the gap between the front bucket seats, she shined the light all over the passenger seat, looking for anything, a thread, a bit of wool from a sweater. If a clue was there, she missed it, but the forensic team would find it. She knew she had to call them in.
Cooper fell back into the rear seat, put her hand to her forehead. Then she got out, climbed into her squad car. The vehicles to be worked on or which were to be towed off sat in a lower lot behind the dealership. Rows of new vehicles not yet prepped were also at this location. The Vavilovs’ lower lot had been plowed, but a thin veil of snow again covered everything.
Driving up the rise to the dealership office, Cooper composed herself. No point in letting anger at herself further cloud her judgment. She parked to the side, walked into the big showroom, smiling at the receptionist.
“Might I see Mrs. Vavilov for a moment? I know she’s busy. I’ll be quick.”
The young lady, nicely turned out for her job of meeting the public, smiled and picked up the phone. She spoke to Charlene for a second, then looked up at Deputy Cooper. “Go right in.”
Charlene stood up as the uniformed officer walked in. She liked Cooper. “Deputy, please sit down.”
“Mrs. Vavilov, I won’t take much of your time. I would just like to ask you to keep Pete’s Explorer here.”
“Of course. Can I help you with anything else? Would you like to see the invoice on it or have information about the four-wheel-drive capacities? Even four-wheel drive will slide off the highway.”
“No, but thank you. I’d like a forensic team to go over the SUV.”
A concerned look shadowed Charlene’s face. “Of course. Is there something—well, you may not be able to tell me.”
“I think we should have a closer look. I’m sorry to do this before Christmas.”
Charlene looked down at her expensive, comfortable shoes. “The holiday doesn’t really matter.”
“Again, Mrs. Vavilov, I apologize.”
“You’re doing what’s right. Would you like me to have the Explorer brought to the police station?”
“Oh, no. Just leave it on the lower lot. We don’t want to draw attention to this.”
“Thank you for that.” Charlene reached out her hand.
Cooper shook it, then left. She hated even more that she’d been sloppy. Back at HQ she sought out Rick in his office and told him what she’d noticed.
Pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket, the sheriff put it in his mouth but didn’t light up. You couldn’t smoke in a county building, but the taste of the nicotine soothed him.
“Dammit.”
“I’m sorry, boss,” Cooper said, taking a seat across from him at his desk.
“Hell, I missed it, too. It was a filthy night and, well—” He waved the cigarette, now plucked from his mouth.
“Let’s send a team to the accident site with rakes, whatever, to check the side of the road,” said Cooper. “You never know.”
“Right.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth.
“Guys like Pete are well placed to generate illegal profits. I’m not saying he did, but we should bear it in mind.”
“Overcharging for repairs can jack up a dealer’s profits.” Rick grunted. “Although I never heard of a complaint about that.”
“Contraband could come in with those huge tractor trailers carrying new vehicles. Boss, I don’t care what his death certificate says, I’m not buying a natural death.”
Rick stood up and stretched, as sitting at his paper-strewn desk caused backache. “His wife didn’t tell anyone about the missing fingers?”
“No.” Cooper quickly added, “We told her not to.”
Rick smiled, cracked his knuckles, cigarette still in his mouth, then sat back down. “Right, but did she ask you anything more about it?”
Cooper folded her hands over one knee. “I don’t believe she wants to think about that.”
Rick sighed. “Perhaps not, but we must.”
He twirled his cigarette, changing the subject. “I don’t mind going outside to smoke when the weather is cold, but it’s hell on a day like today.”
“It is.” She had long since given up trying to get him to stop, as had his wife.
“I’m glad you went over there. You’re a good officer.”
As Rick did not generally lavish his colleagues with compliments, Cooper simply replied, “Thank you.”
“Ever think about the nature of crime?” Rick asked, playing with his cigarette. “Lately, I’ve been getting a bit philosophical and have thought of this a lot. In any culture, in any century, there are folks who live outside the law, others who live inside the law but break it, subvert it. There will always be people motivated by profit, and there will always be people who kill because of rage, revenge, greed, or other motives.”
“Right.”
“But what is a crime here in Virginia is not necessarily a crime in—say, Pakistan, or maybe even a country closer to our own ways, perhaps Sweden?”
“I think about that, especially our drug laws.”
“Or laws about sex. There are still laws on the books in some of the original Thirteen Colonies that state you cannot kiss your wife in public on Sunday. It’s crazy.”
“This is Virginia. We confine ourselves to government-ordered probes for women seeking legal abortions.”
“We’re the laughingstock of the country. Jokes on late-night TV.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Now, child prostitution and other abuse of children motivates me. Smuggling people across our borders to work for nothing, that motivates me. Everyone reacts to a mass murderer. I understand that. I react to it, too, but, Coop, it’s the hidden crimes that irk me so: the hidden crimes by so-called respectable people, like keeping a maid from Asia who doesn’t speak English and not paying her. It may not be as riveting as murder, but exploitation like that drives me wild.”
“That I understand.”
Rick, calmer now, and he was a man who rarely had an outburst, said, “I’m a pretty conservative guy. I think most law enforcement people are. I believe there’s right and wrong, and maybe right and wrong is different in Cambodia than it is here, but I know what’s right and wrong in America. What I don’t know is why do we persist in what doesn’t work?”
“Like what?” asked Cooper. The sheriff was really on a tear now. Best to just sit back and listen.
“Like thinking evil can be talked away. Sure, you can understand evil. Maybe you can understand the motivation of someone who commits evil. But you can’t stop it. Only action stops it.”
“Isn’t that where we come in?” She half smiled.
“Yes, but lately I’ve been thinking that what we are really doing shields people from the failures of our society.”
Cooper didn’t have an answer for that, but her boss’s frustrations haunted her as she headed home from work. She decided to pull into Harry’s farm. The dog, the cats, the horses, Harry and Fair always made her feel better, even though sometimes she could just swat Harry for the dangerous risks her nosy neighbor sometimes took.
Tucker barked and Harry looked up as Cooper came through the kitchen door. “Perfect timing.”
“What?” The tall woman smiled as she rubbed her hands together. She’d sprinted from the car without wearing a coat.
“Chicken corn soup. Made a huge pot, and it’s fresh.”
Inhaling deeply, Cooper smiled.
Harry pointed to the chair. “Sit down and be my guinea pig. You can tell me if I need more chicken, more egg, or more fresh parsley. I don’t think I need more rice.”