Called In For A Meeting

It was maybe a week later that my parole officer called me in for a face-to-face.
Technically it was with the squirrelly little fuck whose name I can never remember, but there was no great surprise when Davis collected me at the front desk and ushered me towards the interview room. The squirrelly little fuck was watching from his desk, and did start to rise, but froze at a quick look & aggressive head-shake from Davis.
In the room, he dropped a pile of folders on the table & dropped himself into the chair, then sat there, staring at me.
A new version of the long silent look; I can wait, I got nothing but time.
He squinted at me. “Who are you?”
That was a new one.
“Uhhhh, … “ I gestured to the folder with my name and photo on the front. “Are you … feeling OK, Mister Davis?”
He shook his head vigorously & blinked a few times, then grunted and opened the folder.
“This meeting is to inform you that we’ve performed an assessment, and we’re satisfied with both your current situation and with your progress.” He waved a document at me which presumably said something about that, but as it was facing him, I decided to take his word for it. Never piss off a grumpy parole officer if you can avoid it.
“We’ve performed background checks on the people at your place of work, and are satisfied that they do not pose a risk to your rehabilitation. We are also satisfied that you’re avoiding contact with former criminal associates.”
I managed to keep a politely neutral demeanor while screaming internally. How the hell did Trevor Lake, a man who quite literally does not exist, pass a background check?
“I’ve been taken … Your case will be handled by your assigned parole officer from now on; You’ve been re-assessed into a lower-risk category.”
“That’s good to hear.” I chanced a smile, and caught a frown; Clearly the wrong move. “You don’t seem very happy about this though?”
Ever have one of those moments where you pick up on something just a bit too late?
This was one of those.
This wasn’t an ‘I decided’, this was a ‘Someone above me decided’, and Davis got told what to do.
I got another very long look, followed by a very deep sigh.
“You, I have no issue with.” He closed the folder and pulled out a much thinner one under it, holding it up to reveal Lake’s photo & name. “Mister Lake I officially have no issue with, as he is a law-abiding citizen.”
There are times when your very best look of confusion is required, and this was one of them.
“I’m … Not sure I follow here. If there’s no problem, then, … Well, what’s the problem?”
He held my gaze for a moment, then placed the folder gently back on the pile.
“I guess there isn’t one.” Davis pushed the folders into a neater pile. “Every instinct I have tells me that Trevor Lake is as dodgy as hell, but the records say otherwise, and I can’t prove otherwise, and the direction from on high is to wind up the investigation.”
He stood and picked up the folders.
“Even if I think it’s a bad idea” He continued as he gestured towards the door.
We made a quick detour past his desk on the way through the office, to drop off the folders & for me to get his card, and were heading for the front desk when he asked;
“How’d you & Lake meet anyway?”
“Years go, in the lockup.”
He stopped dead.
Shit.
“Mister Lake has never been incarcerated, or even arrested.” He did his long pause thing until it was clear that I was politely waiting for him to continue. “How’d you meet him in a lockup?”
Shit shit shit shit shit.
OK, minimal possible lies, no embroidering. Keep it simple. Downgrade, but keep it plausible.
“It was one of those temporary drunk tank things they set up for New Years Eve; A ‘sober up in here or we’ll arrest you and throw you somewhere worse’ sort of thing?”
He wants to find a hole in the story. Try to keep it light.
“I’d had a few too many, he’d had a few too many, and a couple of guys who’d had a whole lot too many decided they didn’t like his face.”
Slow nodding from Davis. “And so you, … Talked them out of it?” He offered.
Ha! Nice try Senior Parole Officer Davis. I’ve fallen for one trap today, but I’m not going for two.
“Have you seen my record?” I tried a palms wide ‘come on, be realistic’ gesture, which seemed to go OK. “I’m not the persuasive type.”
Davis gave me the ‘go on’ gesture.
“I waited until they were looming over him and hit them while their backs were turned. Propped them against a bench to sleep it off.”
That got a smile.
“Yeah, that’s more your approach.” He nodded. “Where’d this happen?”
“Some town with a beach.” I shrugged in response to the start of a Look. “Probably started with a ‘W’, and that doesn’t really narrow it down, but that’s all I remember. It was years ago, and I was drunk.”
Slow nodding, and an even slower gesture towards the exit. We started walking.
“Were you in the habit of being a drunken Good Samaritan at the time?”
That one made me laugh.
“No, not really. Wouldn’t have even noticed it if the drunk next to me hadn’t pointed him out, but they did, so …” I shrugged. “Couldn’t sit there and watch someone get the shit kicked out of them for being a drunk teenager, and it’s not like the cops watching the place would have noticed in time.”
Finally we made it to the lobby.
“Well,” Davis held out a hand. “Stay out of trouble.”
Is this another trick?
“Absolutely. Thanks, Mister Davis.” I shook the hand, smiled, and headed for the stairs. Don’t want to give him the chance to decide to jump in the lift at the last moment.
I could feel his eyes on my back the whole way across the lobby.

Walking out of the building and into the sun, I managed not to look back; Too scared that I’d see Davis watching from a window or something, so I just kept walking down the hill in the general direction of away.
If I’d not been so worried about Davis, I might have noticed the thing I missed in that interview, but … I didn’t. Lake eventually figured it out, far too late for either of us to do anything about it.
And we didn’t figure out the other thing I missed until years later.