Different Circles

“I’d suggest a shotgun,” said Stivick. “There is nothing in the world better for home defense than a 12-gauge pump action loaded with double-ought buck. The sound of you racking one in will scare off ninety-five percent of intruders. And, if worst comes to worst and you have to engage, you’ll hit anything you’re shooting at at close range and the rounds won’t go through a wall and kill someone in another room.”

“This is assuming that you are allowed to own a gun,” said Maxwell. “Do you have any felony convictions?”

“Convictions? No. I’ve been accused of various things here and there but have never even been convicted of speeding.”

They passed a look around but said nothing.

He took them to the garage next, turning on the lights and letting them see his BMW, Elsa’s Four-Runner, and Laura’s Volkswagen. The rest of the space in the garage was empty except for a small tool chest filled with hammers, screwdrivers, wrenches, and other things needed for simple household repair (which was inevitably done by Elsa).

“And that’s the tour, gentlemen,” he said as they headed back toward the living room and the foyer.

“What about upstairs?” asked Clark.

“There is no upstairs,” Jake said. “The house is one level only. My goal in building it here was not to be pretentious. There is an attic, however, and you are welcome to poke your heads up there to make sure I don’t have a tranny chained up inside.”

“Is it easy to access?” asked Stivick.

“It is,” Jake said. “It has one of those ring pull things with a ladder that comes down.”

“I suppose we should take a quick look,” Stivick said.

Jake led them back to the main hallway, which was where the access hatch was located. He opened it up and the ladder slid down. A light automatically came on up there when the ladder extended. Stivick climbed up enough to poke his head inside and see that there was nothing but the furnace, the air conditioning coils, insulation, and a few boxes of things like Christmas decorations and old clothes.

“Looks like an attic to me,” Stivick said, climbing back down.

Jake pushed the ladder back up and the hatch sealed once again. “All right then,” he said. “Are you satisfied that we are keeping no one here against his or her will?”

“Almost,” Stivick said. “I noticed when we pulled in that there is another structure here on the property. The house next to this one?”

“That is where the actual maid stays,” Jake said. “Her name is Elsa Tyler, I pay her for her services, she is from Nigeria originally, she is old enough to be my mother, and she is on Christmas vacation right now.”

“Do you mind if we take a quick look through that house as well?” Stivick asked.

“I cannot consent to that,” Jake said. “That is Elsa’s house, her private space. I have not been inside there since I did the final walk-through for closing on the property.”

“But you have a key to it, right?”

“I do, but, as I said, that is Elsa’s private residence and I cannot and will not give consent for you to enter it.”

“Perhaps you could call this Elsa person and obtain consent from her?” suggested Clark.

“I will not even ask her,” Jake said. “Searching her residence is not reasonable.”

“But if you were keeping someone captive, that would be the logical place to do it,” said Stivick.

“Really?” Jake said, raising his brows. “Keep an underage captive in a separate house where we can’t see what she is doing, where she could just wander off at will?”

“Again, Jake,” Stivick said, “I am not saying that I believe you are actually holding someone against their will here. I am just saying that I cannot, in good conscience, write in the report for the PIO that we have determined the accusation to be false unless I look inside that house as well.”

Jake sighed again. He did not get the impression that Stivick was trying to coerce him. He was just stating a fact. But that did not change his decision. Maybe, however, there was another way.

“I can’t let you search Elsa’s house,” he said. “But what if I were able to prove to you beyond a reasonable doubt that the email that all of this is based on is completely made up?”

“How would you do that?” Stivick asked.

Jake smiled. “Let’s go back to the office,” he said.

He led them back there and turned on the computer. While it was booting up, he explained the origin of the photograph in question, where it had originally been taken and under what circumstances, and how it had ended up circulating far and wide on email accounts and internet bulletin boards. He then opened up his inbox and showed them the original email that Ron the ramper had sent out, including all the photographs that had been attached to it.

“This certainly makes sense,” Stivick said after reviewing everything. “Can you send a copy of this email to the department’s inbox.”

“Sure,” Jake said. “What’s the address?”

Stivick recited it for him and told him to put “Original Jake Kingsley email” in the subject box.