The house was obviously home to small children, but it seemed clean. And someone was an artist. Mac walked over to a watercolor and admired it. “This is good,” he said. “Yours?”
“Yes, it’s my hobby,” she said, self-depreciating.
Mac shook his head. “It should be more than a hobby,” he said seriously, moving onto another one. He opened his wallet and pulled out a business card. On the back of it he wrote his aunt’s name and telephone number. He pulled out his phone. “Do you mind if I take a picture of a few? My aunt is an art professor at the U. She’s always looking for artists who deserve notice.”
He looked over his shoulder, and the woman looked like she was trying not to cry. “Whoa,” he said with alarm. “I won’t if you don’t want me to! I didn’t mean to upset you.”
She shook her head. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “It’s just... no one’s ever said anything like that before.”
Mac looked at Angie for confirmation. Angie nodded, and she reached over and squeezed Carole’s hand. “He doesn’t say things like that if they aren’t true,” she said gently. “They are good.”
Mac took a couple of shots, and sent them to Lindy with a short explanation. He gave his business card to Carole Jorgensen. “Follow up and email her, or call her,” he said. “Truly. I’ve seen her do this before.”
The woman nodded, and the drew in a ragged breath and found a sense of composure. “So, you saw my husband at his finest, did you?”
Angie laughed, and even Mac had to grin.
“It looked to me like he’s selling guns and porn out the front door, and probably drugs — meth? — out the back. He’s on edge, and he shot at a deputy. He’s making threats. So why didn’t the sheriff put him in jail?” Mac asked.
She sighed. “I threw him out when he started selling drugs. As if the guns and porn weren’t bad enough. He always thought there had to be a faster, easier way to make money, you know? And we’ve got two preschoolers, so child-care costs mean I wouldn’t make much if I worked. Unless he took on some child care, which God forbid, you know? So now he’s a loose cannon, and he’s drinking on top of it all. So those papers? A restraining order and a court date. He’s fighting the divorce. Who does that these days?”
Mac patiently listened to her rant. He didn’t blame her for ranting. Not at all.
“City police, the ones you’d call for enforcing the restraining order?” Angie asked.
Carole nodded. “Not Sheriff Norton. He won’t do a blasted thing to help a woman who needs help. That’s why he was sounding sympathetic. He is sympathetic. And he’s also so pro-guns he won’t bust my husband even when he shoots at a deputy.”
“You heard about that before we got here,” Mac observed.
She laughed. “Small town,” she repeated. “The deputy is married to a high school friend. He called me to tell me the papers were served. But then he told me what happened. He was shook up.”
“Don’t blame him,” Mac said. “Did he think your husband was truly aiming at him or was he firing in their direction to get them to leave?”
“He said it came close. Scared them all back. They called Norton, not expecting much, but that’s what you do, right?”
“Norton got the papers served, but he didn’t even scold him for shooting,” Mac said.
Carole sighed. “Norton follows the law, the law as he sees it. So, he’d serve the papers, because the courts ordered it. But he believes the Constitution allows a man to shoot his guns in his defense. And trespassing is grounds, I guess, even if it’s a cop.”
Mac frowned. “You got family you can go to?” he asked. He wasn’t usually much of an activist when he was reporting. Tell the story, let people figure out what they should do. But he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“I want to move down to Marysville,” she said. “But Lucas filed a motion — I guess that’s what it was — that I shouldn’t be able to leave the county with the kids until the divorce and custody is final. That’s what this next court date is for. He scares me, no lie, but I don’t think he’d harm the kids. So, we stay quiet and in town.”
Mac nodded. “So, is this a pattern? Norton takes the husband’s side? Leaves the wives to fend for themselves?”
She rocked her hand indicating more or less. “It got worse after his own divorce. Do you know about that?”
“She’s on our interview list,” Mac said. “Bad?”
Carole nodded. “So bad, it was the talk of the town for months. And it happened during his last re-election campaign. She finds out he’s cheating — he’s known for chasing women — and his mistress is pregnant. Can you imagine? His opponent for sheriff is a lawyer in town. And she hires him to represent her in the divorce.”
Mac grinned. Had to admire a woman who knew how to get even.
“The attorney lost the race; no one expected him to win,” she continued. She was smiling too. “But he took Norton to the cleaners in court. Aired all the dirty laundry. Called the pregnant mistress as a witness. It was glorious.”
“So, what two years ago?”
“Nearly three,” she agreed. “Only problem is Anne, his ex, wants to leave town now, and he won’t let her go. Says the shared custody agreement means she can’t leave, because his work hours are erratic and prevent him from going to Seattle for his time with the boys.”
“Is he the one that’s giving your husband ideas?” Mac asked.
She frowned. “They’ve got some kind of wilderness survival club going,” she said. “Lucas changed a bit after he started going. He was never a good man, and I made a mistake when
