press, or even Cameron, for that matter. Now he’d been told to bring a seasoned police reporter in for a private meet. Nick knew Joel would not only be nervous about what might be said, but also pissed if he had to explain to the rest of the media types who would be howling if word got out of such an exclusive.
While Nick was passing his driver’s license and newspaper I.D. through the bulletproof glass at the admittance office, he said, “So, you gonna give me a clue here as to what’s going on, Joel?”
“I can’t say that I even have a clue,” Cameron said, still not looking Nick in the eye. “If Hargrave wanted to leak something to you, Nick, he should’ve just called you on the phone like the rest of your sources do.”
Yeah, Nick thought, Cameron’s pissed.
When the officers inside the security fishbowl passed a temporary I.D. back at Nick, he clipped the badge onto his shirt pocket, listened for the electronic click of the lock on the adjoining door and then followed Cameron into the main offices. They immediately took a right and got onto an escalator rolling up to the second floor. When did they start putting escalators into police headquarters? Nick thought as they rose. The world, my man, has changed.
At the end of a hallway that Nick knew led to the executive offices, Cameron stopped and hesitated at a door just shy of the double entrance to the sheriff’s own suite. He carefully knocked twice and then entered, again holding open the door so that Nick would have to walk through first. Nick quickly recognized the room as the conference area where he had once conducted an interview with the sheriff during an election year. Nick had always hated politics, but, as the senior police reporter, it was in his job description to cover the sheriff’s race. The only redeeming aspect was that the assignment only had to be done once every four years.
The room was dominated by a long, polished maple conference table and at the other end sat Hargrave and a sheriff’s lieutenant Nick recognized as head of special operations. Against the wall behind them stood a middle-aged man whom Nick judged to be a lawyer by the cut of his suit and tie. He had a file opened in his hands and did not look up as they entered, never a good sign, Nick thought. It was Cameron’s job to make introductions.
“Gentlemen,” he began, a slight catch in his throat. “Mr. Mullins is here as requested. Mr. Mullins, this is Lieutenant Steve Canfield.”
Canfield stood up as Nick worked his way down the length of the table on the side opposite Hargrave and offered his hand.
“I believe we’ve met,” he said, “at one news conference or another.”
Nick had had few dealings with Canfield but respected him. He had started as a street cop and rose to be commander of the department’s SWAT operations and then implemented the first community policing program as a captain in a rough neighborhood in the northwest section of the county.
“It was actually during a training exercise at the abandoned Margate hospital when you were running SWAT, sir,” Nick said, shaking the lieutenant’s hand. “Probably four, five years ago when I was putting together a magazine piece.”
“Yes, I think you’re right,” he said and then sat.
Nick detected a movement from the mystery man when he had mentioned the SWAT exercise. The man had slightly lowered his file and Nick caught his eyes peering at him over the top edge of the paperwork.
“And you know Detective Hargrave,” Cameron said, “who you met the other day.”
Hargrave nodded but did not look up from his hands, which were clasped and resting on the table before him. Nick extended his own hand but, instead of presenting a handshake, turned his palm up to show the indentations that were still visible from its time pressed into the stones on the roof of the diagnostic center.
“Yesterday, in fact,” Nick said and then withdrew the hand.
“OK, please,” Lieutenant Canfield quickly said. “Fellas, let’s sit and talk about some concerns.”
As they pulled out chairs, Nick could see Cameron’s uneasiness as he cut his eyes from the lieutenant to the man still standing at the wall. Canfield picked up on the mood of the room.
“Guys, this is Agent Fitzgerald, who is an observer from a, uh, federal agency who will be sitting in.”
Fitzgerald raised his eyes again and nodded. Hargrave stared at his hands. Cameron said