“So, what would you do?”
“I’d establish no gun zones that include schools. Strict gun safety regulations on who can own guns. Give courts the ability to block someone from having guns if they are deemed mentally unstable. Background checks,” he said. “I have guns. And I’m confident that I can pass any rule that’s established. And if I can’t? I’ll put my weapons in your lock box until I can.”
“And while they’re in my lock box, someone breaks into your house and beats up your family? Then what?”
“I’d hunt him down and make sure he couldn’t do it again,” Mac said, his eyes were cold. “Ask Howard Parker how that turned out.”
“Jesus, your editor know you interview like this?” Norton demanded with a laugh.
“Whatever it takes,” Mac said, noting that the John Wayne drawl was gone. “Let’s start over. What made you go into law enforcement, and how did you end up in Skagit County?”
Pete Norton was actually a California boy, turned out. He’d come up to Bellingham to go to college, majoring in criminal justice.
“How did you decided to come all the way up here for that?” Mac asked, curious. He was also a graduate of the university, but he didn’t think it drew many Californians.
“Baseball,” Norton said with a laugh. “They were willing to let me play baseball. Nice scholarship in fact. Baseball was my top priority in choosing a school.”
Mac grinned. “Got it,” he said. Before he went into the Marines, he was ranking school choices by football.
“Turned out I was lucky,” Norton continued. “Western Washington University suited me. I liked Bellingham. I liked the mountains. I didn’t even mind the rain. So, I graduated with a degree in criminal justice and looked for a job. To be honest? Becoming a cop wasn’t high on my list of jobs. I’m not sure what I thought you did with a criminal justice degree, but it finally registered that you’re supposed to become a cop somewhere. Bellingham has all the inexperienced cops they could possibly need, so I looked farther afield. Got on in Mount Vernon.”
He hesitated, then rolled his eyes. “And I married a local girl,” he said with a shrug. “We started having kids. I ‘settled down.’ When the former sheriff retired, I decided to run. And I was elected. Been re-elected once, up for election again in 2016.”
“Do you like it?” Mac asked. He didn’t completely buy the story, and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it sounded practiced? Like the voice thing?
“I do,” he said. “Oddly enough, because I didn’t set out with this job in mind. But I like taking care of people, and that’s what I do. I take care of my people, my county.”
He pulled over. “I want to check out this venue. Walk through, shake some hands,” he said. “You game?”
“I’d rather be shot,” Mac muttered, getting out of the car. “But sure. Angie needs tulip photos.”
Angie grinned at him. “He’s lying,” she said very softly as she got out of the car. Mac nodded. “Do not ditch me here, guys,” she warned. “I will make your lives a living hell if you do.”
Mac laughed. Norton didn’t.
“How is it to work with a woman like her?” Norton asked as they strolled through the crowd of people who were ogling the tulip beds around the farmhouse and barn. Kids were chasing each other. There were tables of ‘art’ set up for sale.
“Like her?” Mac asked.
“In your face, pushy,” Norton amplified.
Mac looked startled. “I don’t find her pushy at all,” he said slowly. “She’s very good at what she does. She doesn’t let people put her down or stop her from doing her job. But she’s very easy to be around. This is the first long shoot we’ve done together. But I couldn’t ask for someone better.”
“You don’t look like a man who lets himself be pussy-whipped,” Norton said. Then he stopped and smiled at an elderly lady he obviously knew. They chatted for a moment, while Mac studied him. He was oozing charm now, Mac observed, and a minute before he was poking at Mac about Angie? Who was this guy?
They walked on. “You work for a woman, too,” Norton picked up his line of questioning again. “That must be tough.”
Mac laughed. “Janet’s easily the best editor on the West Coast, and she’s got the awards to prove it,” he said. “She stands behind her reporters, fights for us with the bosses for better pay, and can edit the hell out of a story. She’s good people. You got something against women? I saw some female deputies.”
“Got to have some,” he said. “They are pretty good at handling domestic disputes or when kids are involved. And you have to keep an eye on the employment stats. But that’s not the same as working for one.”
“You’ve never worked for a woman?” Mac asked curiously. A painting caught his eye, and he stopped to look at it. He actually liked it. Tulips blooming against a dystopian background. It said something. He thought his aunt would like it, and he bought it. Birthday present. Score.
“Once. Hated it,” Norton admitted freely. “I like women.” He grinned, flashing a dimple. “And women like me. But that’s not the same thing as working for one. Or partnering with one.”
“Thought you were married?” Mac asked, puzzled by the direction of the conversation, but he was in no hurry to address gun rights and school shootings at a tulip farm.
“Was. We split up,” he said. “We’re fighting right now because she wants to move down to Seattle for work and take the kids. I won’t let her take my kids away from me like that.”
“Hardly a
