Everybody Lies by L.J. Breedlove

Author:L.J. Breedlove
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alaska, police, Native Alaskans, environment, mystery, domestic violence victims
Publisher: L.J. Breedlove
Published: 2013-09-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Walking down the sidewalk toward his car, Kitka thought wistfully of Bruce Willis's version of cop life. Not that he got much of a chance to watch television shows — without a satellite dish there wasn't much reception. But he'd seen movies on video. God, sometimes he wished there was the kind of action in his life as there was in the movies. In real life it wasn't that way. Action was what the perp did to the victim. All too often, the cops were called in only to clean up the mess others had left. Police work was mostly talking to people. Asking them where they were, what did they see, what happened. Comparing one person's story to the next. Cross checking everything. Interspersed with talking with people was endless paperwork.

Kitka figured if he spent as much time rolling under gunfire, chasing after criminals, and wrestling people to the ground as TV cops did, he wouldn't have to work out every morning. He could count the number of times he'd been in a dangerous physical situation and for 15 years of police work, it wasn't a high number. Most of the time, those encounters had been with drunks: drunks who were driving when they shouldn't be, drunks who thought fighting was the way to end a perfect evening, drunks who... He sighed.

Kitka headed home. Lunch sounds good, he thought. And then phone calls.

When Kitka pulled up in front of his house, Candace Marshall and her trooper baby-sitter were sitting on the front porch looking at the mountain. Neither of them appeared to be talking. Kitka parked his car and walked around to the porch. "I'll take over from here, Sam. Thanks," he said to the trouper.

"Any time, Paul. And I mean that," said the young man as he stood up. "Good-bye, Ms. Marshall. It's been a pleasure."

She smiled at him, but still didn't speak. The trouper seemed to think the smile was payment enough as he blushed a bit and headed toward his car.

"Uneventful day?" Kitka asked, sitting down beside her.

"Peaceful," she said, her voice still hoarse. The fingerprinted bruises on her neck were dark and ugly.

"Did you get a chance to check out your apartment, yesterday?" he asked after a few moments of silence passed. "Could you tell if anything was missing?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Mary put it back together again for me. I didn't notice anything in particular, but I didn't go through much. Why?"

"The place was tossed pretty thoroughly," he pointed out. "Someone was looking for something. I wonder if they found it?"

She shrugged. "I didn't bring much with me, Lieutenant. I can't imagine what anyone would want with my few clothes and a couple of paperbacks."

"Paul," he said absently, and at her look, amplified, "My name is Paul."

"Dace."

"Not Candy."

Her mouth twisted into a wry smile. "I don't think I'll ever be that innocent young thing again. Candy is a name for an innocent."

Paul Kitka was quiet for a moment, absorbing the solace of the woods, the rustling wind, and the ever-present mountains.

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