Deadly Stillwater

As they walked in the front door, Mac immediately noted the massive number of cops, active and retired, ready to help at a moment’s notice. The mere number of people present spoke volumes about Charlie Flanagan. In many big cities, there’s separation between the chief and the force, but not in St. Paul. The chief started as a beat cop in the city, moved up to detective, chief of detectives, and, ultimately, chief, where he’d been for the last nine years. He was one of them. Charlie Flanagan never morphed into a police politician. He wasn’t the police chief; he was the chief of the police. He was a cop and always thought of himself that way. Charlie Flanagan always had the force’s back and supported his men without fail, even when it wasn’t the most politically prudent thing to do. The most recent example of the chief’s support was the recent cop shooting and resulting manhunt. The chief never once wavered in his support of his men, Mac and Rock in particular, despite the media and political pressure. However, the support of his men didn’t come without a price – it meant strained relations with the mayor, a politician tiring of trying to keep his chief of police in line.

Peters spotted Mac and Lich’s arrival and quickly pulled them aside into a small side room. The update finished with their trip to north Minneapolis.

“So Boone was a washout?”

“Waste of time,” Lich answered.

“Okay, I need to tell you boys something, and you’re not going to like it,” Peters said. “With the chief indisposed at the moment, the mayor’s put the FBI, and Burton in particular, in charge of this thing.”

“What the fuck?” Mac railed.

“Political hack,” Lich raged.

“I agree with you both,” Peters answered, holding his hands up. “I agree with you, believe me. The mayor’s issue is that he doesn’t want us getting out of control. He’s falling back on the cop shooting and the involvement of you, Rock and Riles. You’re the chief’s boys and he figures you’ll tear the city up to find Carrie.”

“Goddamn right,” Mac growled.

“Well, that’s what the mayor’s worried about Mac. He wants you corralled.”

“How so?”

“If you don’t follow Burton’s lead on this, you’ll be off the case. Frankly, if the mayor had his way, you boys would be off it completely already.”

“I’m half surprised we’re not,” Lich muttered.

“You’re not because the chief raised holy fuckin’ hell,” Peters answered. “And Burton told the mayor he wants you working it, that you guys are too good to waste on the sidelines. He told the mayor you’d work it anyway, so he’d just as soon have you on his side. So the chief has your back and Burton wants you on it. So play nice and we’re good here.”

“Nice of Burton to do that,” Lich said. “Maybe he’s not too bad a guy after all.”

“So far, so good with him. He’s killing all my FBI stereotypes,” Mac said in agreement and then changed directions. “How’s the chief doing?”

“Let’s go see him,” Peters answered, waving them to follow. He led them up the open staircase to the second floor and then the chief’s home office at the back corner of the house. Formerly a bedroom for one of the Flanagan kids, now grown, the room was converted into a well appointed home office with a large mahogany desk and high-backed leather chairs. The chief stood behind the desk, hands in his pockets, slumped shoulders, staring out the window and Mac felt a lump in his throat and his chest tighten.

Charlie Flanagan was like a father to Mac, and Mac like a son to the chief. The chief was with Mac when Mac’s father was killed in a freak hunting accident. Mac was close to his mother and three sisters. But after his father’s death, Mac became part of the Flanagan family and the chief was his father figure. He spoke with the chief about things a young man sought guidance from a father about. It was the chief who was at Mac’s college and law-school graduations, leading the cheers at college hockey games, providing advice on getting married, buying homes or investing money. Mac was close to the chief’s sons and his daughter, his baby girl Carrie. She was twelve years younger than him, but he looked upon her like a little sister. Mac went to her high school events, attended her graduation, and checked out her boyfriends, making sure they were worthy of his adopted little sister. While Mac liked Lyman and had met Shannon a few times, with Carrie and the chief now involved, it had become all too personal. Mac exhaled, steadied himself, and put on his stone game face. He didn’t want the chief to see him as anything other than ready to go.

The office was full. Burton, Duffy, and the mayor quietly chatted in one group, while Riley, Rock, and a few others talked in another. All were waiting for the phone to ring, for the inevitable call to come. Hearing new people entering, the chief turned around. Mac sucked in a breath as the chief slowly approached and gave him a hug, pulled him close and whispered in his ear.

“You do whatever it takes, you understand? Whatever it takes.”