Page 39 of Head Room (Caught Dead in Wyoming #15)

“It started with that photo of you guys at lunch at Haber House—”

“What photo?” Diana asked.

“How’d you get it?” I asked.

Mike raised a hand. “I shared it with Jennifer. Needham sent copies of ones Stella took. Didn’t you get them, Elizabeth?”

I did, which I confirmed with a nod.

With impatience for our explanations, Jennifer said, “Sent it to that guy I know with the same software we’ll use on the quilts. It’s designed as some really lit facial recognition and—”

“Why?” Mike asked. “You knew who was in the photo.”

“I knew. He didn’t. He’s always looking for photos that challenge his software with lesser-known people — no offense, but that table wasn’t exactly hot commodities.”

“Hey,” Mike objected.

Diana chuckled.

I felt philosophical. Being a hot commodity hadn’t been nearly as satisfying a period of my life as now was.

“Anyway, it’s not you guys. Well, his software did ID you all — even Needham.

I figured Orson Jardine would snag because of his quitting recently.

His resignation letter is all over the place.

Mike and Elizabeth popped up because this algo loves TV.

I keep telling him he needs to weight social media more. ”

“Gee, thanks,” I muttered, not as philosophical about that.

“So, this guy’s facial recognition algorithm worked on them, but—”

Jennifer interrupted Diana. “It’s not them that matter—”

Both Mike and I said, “Gee, thanks,” this time.

“—It’s the guy in the background.”

That stopped our grumbling.

“What guy in the background?” Diana asked for all of us.

“Guy in a white shirt and jeans—” Since that’s what all three of the guys at our table had worn, that didn’t help much. “—and sitting with a blonde woman in a cowboy hat. Though why she was wearing it at lunch . . .”

Mike and I shared a look. His autograph-seeker.

“Who is the guy in the background?” Count on Diana to stick with the through-line.

“Kyle Quetcher,” Jennifer said.

“That means nothing—” Mike looked around. “—to any of us.”

“That’s because you guys don’t hang out in the right areas of the Internet.”

“That’s what we have you for.” He grinned.

Jennifer tried to scowl, but didn’t quite pull it off. “Good thing you do. He’s a cop — was a cop — who got kicked out of his department in South Carolina for bad stuff. I just sent a link for a video about him.”

It was billed as an analysis of a “Chickensh** Cop.” The guy did a brief intro, then showed footage from a TV station’s report on a police officer being fired and decertified for multiple infractions.

Apparently, the final straw was taunting a woman driver, saying he was scared of her — trying to invoke officer safety to justify his actions while he dragged her out of her car and slammed her to the ground, as he repeatedly shouted Boo hoo hoo.

Mike said it well — and far more succinctly than the analyzer — when he said, “Class act,” with vinegar-laced sarcasm.

“That’s awful,” Diana said.

“Oh, there’s worse and that’s from a quick search,” Jennifer said. “I’ll compile the information for you — dates and places and names — for what I’ve found so far and see what else we come up with. My friend’s using his software to see if we can pick up more through facial recognition.”

Mike said, “What I want to know is what he was doing in Sherman, Wyoming. Sure hope it was passing through on his way to Yellowstone with his charming mom.”

“Why are you frowning, Elizabeth?” Diana asked.

“I don’t think Mike’s hope is going to come true. There’s reason to believe this guy is applying for a job at the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department.”

* * * *

“What?” Diana demanded. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know. I said reason to believe.

I saw him at the sheriff’s department the day before yesterday and it sure looked like he was getting ready to take a written test, under the watchful eyes of Deputy Ferrante.

That’s one point. The next day was the lunch and he told the woman he called Mom he had to go for an interview.

That’s a second point. With his background—? ”

“Have you told Russ? Or Shelton?”

We all knew that was a reflexive demand on Diana’s part, looking out for her honey, the sheriff.

“How could she tell anyone? We just heard this from Jennifer,” Mike pointed out.

“Of course, of course. Sorry. But now—”

“I don’t know,” I cut in, “we don’t know anything. We have to report this out before—”

“This is not a story, Elizabeth. It’s—”

“It could be,” Mike inserted.

“—about the welfare of our community.”

“Not yet it’s not. He’s not hired.” I held up my hands, to slow us all down, myself included.

I waited a beat before continuing.

“No offense to Jennifer’s friend, but we don’t know how reliable this software is. First move is to see if these two people are one and the same. Not to mention, if we jump now and there’s nothing to this, whatever credibility we might have with the Cottonwood County Sheriff’s Department—”

Very tactful on my part naming no names, such as Conrad and Shelton.

“—will be gone, possibly irretrievably. Our first step has to be what it always is. To find out. To find out what we can. Whatever we can. And to have multiple, reliable sources.”

Diana streamed out a breath.

For a while now, she’d walked the narrow line between her loyalties so expertly that maybe even she forgot what a challenge it presented. No wonder she needed a breath.

“You’re right. But—” She looked from me to Mike and back. “—we go to the sheriff’s department before running any story. And if they’re about to offer this guy a job, we warn them before they do.”

“We can’t necessarily know they’re about to offer him a job,” he objected.

“I’ll take responsibility for making sure we know that,” she said. “All of us take responsibility for the rest.”

She got no argument.

“Tell us what else you know about the guy, Jennifer,” I said.

“It’s a good story. But the local coverage .

. .” She shook her head. “Like I said, he was decertified. That came out when the little town where he worked found out they were being fined by the certifying agency along with late fees, all out of their already tight budget. First, Kyle Quetcher’s certification was suspended because his firearms qualification wasn’t filed in time.

“Then, they said the police chief let him work alone, even though uncertified officers aren’t allowed to work alone.

When the certifying agency found out, the police chief ignored the notification.

When the second notification came, with a late fee, he tried to talk the agency into letting it pass.

He never even told the town council. But they found out and then it hit the fan.

“But what the stories didn’t mention is the police chief was his uncle. Well, he’s still Kyle Quetcher’s uncle, but he’s no longer the police chief. I’m checking to see if there’s a connection to Wyoming.”

“You said they said he worked alone — the certifying agency. Were they right?” Diana asked.

“Oh, yeah, and that’s when the videos were taken. Couple people recorded interactions with him, plus his own dashcam — the idiot. A couple videos when he was with another officer weren’t nearly as bad. Not what any police academy would teach, but better than when he was on his own.”

“Like what?” Mike asked.

“I can send you more videos. Mocking citizens, yelling at them, bullying them, pushing them around physically. One guy he twisted his arm — hard — for no reason.”

“So he was a lousy cop on top of everything else.”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely lousy.”