The Poacher's Son (Mike Bowditch 1)

you turned eigh teen? Is that it?”
    Once again her face was distorted with anger—it happened in a heartbeat—but this time her eyes shined with tears. “Who are you to judge my life? You didn’t grow up with a bunch of disgusting creeps calling you names. Jack’s the only real man I’ve ever known.”
    It made sense that my dad wanted to protect her, but did she really need protecting, or was Brenda Dean a lot wilier than she let on? “So what you’re saying is that Pelletier and Truman conspired to kill Jonathan Shipman and Deputy Brodeur and frame my dad.”
    “Yes.”
    “Why didn’t you tell Detective Soctomah this story?”
    “It’s not a story.”
    “Why didn’t you tell him?”
    “He wouldn’t have believed me. Besides, Jack told me not to. They’d just cover it up, he said. If I told you, maybe you could convince the cops to look into it, being a warden and all.”
    Not for long, I thought. Not the way things were going.
    She looked up, her eyes still shining. She was genuinely gorgeous, I thought, when the hardness passed from her expression. Under the circumstances, it made me uncomfortable to find her so attractive.
    “You’ve got to do something,” she said. “I’m afraid the cops are going to kill him if they get the chance.”
    “Not if he gives himself up. He told me he was in Canada. Did he ever take you anywhere remote up in Quebec, someplace he might use as a hideout?”
    “No,” she said with such firmness I suspected she was lying.
    “All right,” I said. “There’s just one more thing I don’t understand. If Pelletier nearly raped you, why did you stay there at the camp, working for him all these years? It doesn’t make sense.”
    She shrugged. “Where else would I go? Rum Pond’s the only home I’ve ever had since my mom died. Besides, with Jack I felt safe. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me anymore.”
    I was still trying to pro cess that remark when I heard the echoing sound of footsteps coming quickly along the hall. The door opened behind me. Menario stood there, his face aglow. “Hey, Bowditch. Your sergeant is on the phone, and she’s ripshit. How come you didn’t tell us you were suspended?”

 
     
    22
     
    I followed Menario back up the creaking stairs to the clerk’s office. In the corner of the room, Charley Stevens was perched on a desk, sipping from a styrofoam cup of hot coffee, of all things. Soctomah, brow furrowed with annoyance, was holding a wireless phone to his ear. “He’s here,” he said to the person on the other end. He handed me the phone. It was slick from his sweaty hand.
    “Kathy?” I said.
    “You stupid piece of shit.”
    “I guess I deserve that.”
    “You are officially suspended. Appeal it with your union rep, if you want, but as of this moment you are prohibited from acting in any capacity as a warden until further notice.” The static on the line told me she was using her cell.
    “How did you track me down?”
    “I went over to your house and when you weren’t there, I called Sarah. She didn’t know where you were, so I figured maybe you’d mixed yourself up with the hom i cide investigation again.” She was quiet for a moment. “Jesus Christ, Mike. What the hell’s happened to you?”
    “It’s my dad, Kathy. I have to do this.”
    “So you’re just flushing your career down the shitter?”
    “That’s for the lieutenant to decide.”
    “Don’t put this on Malcomb. He was just going to send you to a counselor, give you time to get your head together. I can’t believe you would just blow him off like that.”
    I didn’t have an answer that would satisfy her, so I didn’t bother responding. “So what happens now?”
    “I’m driving up there.”
    “What? Why?”
    “Because I’m your friend as well as your supervisor, and I’m not going to let you do this to yourself. You’re a good warden, or at least you used to be. Besides, I’ve invested too much time training you. You’ll plead temporary insanity to Malcomb. Maybe we can still get you off with a suspension.”
    I listened to my sergeant with mixed emotions. On the one hand I felt like I didn’t deserve the support she was giving me. On the other, I resented her meddling in my personal life. “You spoke with Sarah?”
    “Yeah, and she’s even more pissed with you than I am, if that’s possible.”
    “You shouldn’t have called her.”
    “Cry me a river. I’m on the road now. I should be there in a few hours. If you’re not