It had recently come to the authorities’ attention that the residents of Quail Hollow had been stealing resources from the city stores such as barriers, portable pumps, and other equipment. When one of the WYEP reporters exposed what they were doing, the Mayor had stepped in. She had changed the word stealing to “diverting,” as if that were any better. The rest of the city’s residents were enraged, but that hadn’t stopped Quail Hollow residents from “diverting” more and more resources to keep their homes from being flooded.
Chief Chitwood’s voice blared even louder from behind his door. “Those are public resources! They’re not for you rich assholes to take at your discretion. That’s right. They do belong to the city, and the city gets to say where they go and when. Who? The head of Emergency Services, that’s who. Oversight? I’m giving you the oversight right now. I’m telling you to return those barriers and the pumps and the rest of the supplies by the end of this week or I’m going to drag my people out of rescue boats to come and arrest the lot of you!”
There was a moment of silence. Then Chitwood hollered, “Don’t threaten me, son. I’ve been doing this job since you were in diapers. You can’t intimidate me. I’ve got a job to do!”
She heard his receiver slam down, and she scurried over to her desk. Gretchen had appeared, sitting at her own desk, riffling through the baked goods. “Chief’s at it again, is he? With the Quail Hollow folks?”
“Yeah,” Josie said. “I think that was Dutton. He broke out his ‘I’ve been doing this since you were in diapers’ line on him.”
Both women laughed. It was one of Chief Chitwood’s signature lines, one he used when he was most incensed. He was in his sixties, past retirement age, and well past caring about the politics that went with his job. Josie hadn’t agreed with his heavy-handed approach at first but now that she and her team had earned his respect, he backed them up consistently and they’d grown to accept him.
Josie handed Gretchen the yearbook. “I’ve been through this. Nothing jumped out at me. No missing girls.”
Gretchen popped a cookie in her mouth and paged through the book until she found Ray’s photo. “What about anyone Ray was friends with during that time?”
“You mean other girls? He wasn’t friends with many girls at that time. The two of us had a few friends, and I can flag them for you in the yearbook, but as far as I know, they’re all still alive and accounted for.”
Gretchen said, “Okay, we can do that. I think we should also look at the previous residents of the house. See if there’s anything there.”
Josie booted up her computer and brought up the database for property searches in the county. A few minutes later, she had a history of the house on Hempstead. “Looks like Calvin Plummer has owned this for decades.” She pulled up the search feature again and this time searched by his name. “He’s got six rental properties in Denton, plus his office and what looks like his permanent residence, which is—get this—in Quail Hollow Estates.”
Gretchen leaned back in her seat and raised a brow. “No kidding.”
Josie pulled up the house on Google maps and clicked on street view. “Yeah, but his is one of the original homes, not the newer ones. He was living there long before they turned it into Quail Hollow.”
“Wonder if he’s going to represent Quail Hollow Estates when Chitwood arrests them all,” Gretchen remarked.
Josie pulled up Plummer’s website. “I don’t think so. Looks like he does tax law.”
“Excuse me?” came an unfamiliar female voice from the stairwell.
Josie and Gretchen swiveled in their seats to see a young woman with long, auburn hair and pale skin standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a form-fitting skirt that rose high above her waistline; a white blouse tucked into it, accentuating her figure. The top few buttons of the blouse were open, revealing an expanse of pale skin. A long necklace sporting an amber-colored stone hung from her neck. In one hand, she carried a briefcase. She took a few tentative steps toward them, heels clicking on the tile, and looked at Josie. She smiled, and up close, Josie saw that she was strikingly beautiful, her eyes a blue so vivid they almost looked turquoise.
“You’re Josie Quinn,” she said.
Josie offered her a smile. “Can I help you?”
She offered her hand. Josie shook it. “Amber Watts,” she said. “I’m the new press liaison.”
Josie looked at Gretchen. For a moment, both of them went blank. Then Gretchen said, “Press liaison?”
“Yes,” Amber answered. “I’m here to facilitate and maintain communication between the police department and the public. I’ll also be working to enhance communication between the police department and the Mayor’s office.”
Gretchen said, “You give press conferences so we don’t have to.”
Amber gave a small laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Who hired you?” Josie said.
Innocently, Amber said, “Mayor Charleston.”
Josie suppressed a groan. Gretchen mumbled, “The Chief’s gonna love this.”
“What was that?” Amber asked, her expression uncertain.
“Nothing, nothing,” Josie said. “We just had no idea that a press liaison was being hired. You really need to talk to the Chief. Come on, I’ll show you to his office.”
Before Josie could lead her over, Bob Chitwood’s door swung open. He stepped out into the great room, wisps of his white hair floating over his scalp. His brown eyes darted around, taking in the three women.
“Quinn, Palmer. We need to talk about— Who the hell is this?”
Amber strode over to him and extended a hand. “Amber Watts,” she said. “The Mayor sent me over. I’m the police department’s new press liaison.”
For a long, pregnant moment, Chitwood stared at her. His face grew more ruddy by the second. Finally, he said, “Horseshit. We don’t need a press liaison. You’re a spy, is what you are. Go back to the Mayor and tell her she can pound sand.”
To her credit, Amber didn’t miss a beat. She gave him a megawatt smile, as if they were in on some joke together and said, “Chief, I know how this looks.”
He folded his arms over his chest and looked down his nose at her. “Do you?”
“I do,” she said easily. “With the Quail Hollow Scandal in the news and the conflict over city resources putting you and the Mayor at odds, it must seem as though she’s planting me here to keep an eye on you. I can assure you that’s not the case.”
“Can you? How is that?”
“I answered the job listing for a press liaison months ago. I interviewed for this position before the flooding even started,” she answered.
He pointed a finger at her. “More horseshit. The Mayor can’t hire people without telling me.”
“Well, sir, I’m afraid that’s something you’d have to take up with her. My job is not only to manage press briefings and other matters here in-house but also to coordinate between the police department and the Mayor’s office to be sure that both city departments are sending the same message to the public.”