Which was ridiculous.
But even now, remembering Dawes’s intensity in that moment got to her. It was strange to think that someone had come close to wiping that intensity out completely.
“I have as much against the guy as anyone else,” Gretchen said, “but if we put people away, they’re supposed to stay there, not wind up in a graveyard.”
“I know he’s everyone’s public enemy number one right now,” Martin said quietly, “but since he managed to get shish-kabobbed half-a-dozen ways while in protective custody, it’s safe to say the penitentiary at Stridmont’s not a good fit for him. He’s being moved all the way to Bergen, and as soon as possible.”
That was halfway across the country. “Just him, or do they have any other prisoners making the trip?”
“Just him.”
That made sense. Gretchen could just barely understand the rationale behind moving this particular prisoner over that kind of distance—the powers that be wanted to move Dawes as far away from trouble as possible. But it would be an insane drive to make for any other reason. And now she knew why Martin had pulled her out of the party, even if she still didn’t understand exactly what the big deal was.
“You want me to drive him,” she said easily. “Sure. I don’t mind long trips. I’m halfway through an audiobook of Moby Dick.”
She’d been halfway through it for the last six months, but she, like Ahab, had vowed to slay her white whale eventually.
“There’s something else, too,” Martin said. He took a deep breath. “I worked a job with him once, you know. A few years ago.”
She was stunned. “I had no idea.”
“I kept it quiet during his trial because—” He looked sheepish. “Because I played everything too close to the vest back then. And it made me uneasy, seeing him on the stand, looking guilty as sin, with that amount of evidence stacked up against him.”
It took a moment for the strange uncertainty on his face to sink in. And if she’d thought she was stunned before...
Gretchen said, “You don’t think he did it.”
“No, I do. I think. For a while, I tried not to, but I just don’t see any other way it all makes sense.”
“But?”
“But it’s hard for me to connect the things he’s done with the man I knew.”
“You only knew him for a few days,” Gretchen said gently. “And people have been wrong about that kind of thing before.”
“Sure, all the time. But I even thought about hiring him.”
That startled her. “He’s a shifter?”
“No, not as far as I know. But he seemed like the kind of guy who could be trusted to keep someone else’s secrets. That’s what I thought about him, anyway—and I’ve always thought of myself as a good judge of character.”
She’d always thought so too, which made his opinion of Cooper Dawes interesting to her. The evidence seemed so black-and-white, but on the other hand, she’d rarely known Martin to be wrong.
Martin continued, “I think he’s guilty because I can’t see another option, but I have to admit I’d like to. I was hoping that you could feel it out for me. Stridmont to Bergen’s a long drive. It’ll give you some time to get a feel for him.”
She could do that. It would be an interesting challenge. And besides, as improbable as it was, Gretchen had always liked prisoner transport. She was on the smaller side, and men—especially beefy guys with bad, violent habits—tended to underestimate her. There was something kind of satisfying about correcting them on that.
Plus, she liked to drive. She always had. Few things made her happier than the open road.
“Consider it done,” she said.
“Thank you. And you should take Keith with you. He needs the experience.”
Gretchen groaned.
“I know how he is,” Martin said gently. “But I think he’s just young. And a little sheltered. You were a rookie once too, Gretchen.”
“I was. And I never thought I knew the job better than everyone else just because I’d read the website more recently.” She glared at him. “You didn’t want to talk to him tonight either,” she added accusingly.