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“Oh?” Olivia sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts.
“Officer Pauley is pressing those charges.”
“Assault and battery are off the table. Clearly, Mickey was already damaged goods, and clearly, Mr. Crushed was defensive, not offensive.”
“That was an initial charge,” Wannamaker said.
“You agree the evidence shows that Mickey arrived already battered. And that it was Mickey who broke the glass on my door. Mr. Crushed did not approach my home.”
“Correct. There’s trespassing and dognapping still on the table.” Wannamaker clarified. “Officer Pauley said it’s his house and his dog. He presented pictures of his title that he accessed on his phone, and there were pictures of him and the dog.”
“Interesting.” She dug her phone from her purse. “Sorry, let’s go back,” Olivia said, scrolling through her files. “What is Mickey charged with?”
“Nothing. We let him go.”
“Of course,” Olivia sighed. She’d found the correct file; she just needed the right paragraph to share. Skimming over the words, she said, “So you let him go. Before I got here. Before I could weigh in?”
“We did.”
She looked up. “You sent the officer to my office. It was an extra step. Was this a courtesy because of my job?” Olivia asked the detective.
“It was.”
“And yet, knowing I was on my way here. You didn’t wait. I’m assuming that it was Mickey’s badge that let him head out that door. You are aware, aren’t you, of the percentage of domestic abusers that are employed by the police?”
Wannamaker cleared his throat.
“And you didn’t want to ask me what my thoughts were. Detective, that’s a choice you might want to reconsider in the future.” She drew in a long breath.
Olivia needed to keep her demeanor professional no matter how much she wanted to yell at Wannamaker for his stupidity. “What did Mr. Crushed say through all of this?”
“Nothing, ma’am. He lawyered up and was silent.”
Brilliant. And disciplined. That was exactly what everyone should do around the police—keep their mouths shut.
Olivia stretched out to pass her phone to the detective. He accepted it, looking down to see what she had for him. “While it is true that Mickey Pauley is on the title, we have a separation agreement. When I moved out two years ago, we stipulated that I wouldn’t go to what had been our marital house where he lives. And he would have no access to our jointly held rental house that I made my home. It’s in the agreement and signed by the judge. I can also point out where he kept his cats, and I took my dog. There is no joint custody of the pets. That’s a class five felony to try to take my dog, and I am pressing charges against Mickey Pauley.” She planted her hands on the table, fingers splayed wide as she pushed her anger onto the surface. “He knowingly made false statements to the police. I’m sure you will want to bring charges. He was trespassing on my property.” Olivia fought to keep her tone even and calm. She thought she was pulling off the charade of Ice Queen. “I want to press charges. He was breaking into my home. I want to press charges.” She lifted her hand to stab a stiff finger onto the table for emphasis, punctuating each word as she said, “He was there with malice after a threatening phone call to me.” She sat back and crossed her arms under her breasts, hard eyes on Wannamaker so he knew this wasn’t a soft ask and he could just shuffle the paperwork off to the side. “I want a restraining order.”
“You can get me a copy of this file?” Wannamaker slid Olivia’s phone along the table until it was back within her reach.
“Sure, but it’s filed with the court, and you have easy access to that,” Olivia said, lifting her phone and wiggling it at Covington. “If you need this, I can make it available to you. Just let me know.”
“Thank you,” Covington said.
They just let Mickey go, unfathomable.
Olivia turned back to Wannamaker with a glare just this side of pugnacious indignation. “Mr. Crushed has permission to be on my property and to invite my dog to his house. I want him released from custody, and all charges dropped. I am the only one under present legal circumstances with any right to determine who has access to that property and my dog.”
Wannamaker hefted himself tiredly to his feet and shuffled out of the room. “Hang on.”
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
Olivia turned to Covington. “I’m sorry about all of this. How did Nutsbe even know that Mickey was breaking in?”
“He heard a motorcycle and said that you’d been bothered by the noise circling the neighborhood late at night for over a week now.”
“That’s true,” Olivia said slowly. Were Mickey and his riding pals out trying to wear her down? Mickey knew she was a light sleeper. And that going without sleep wore on her.
