An awkward silence ensues. I’m trying to think of a way to end the call, when he broaches the one subject I’d wanted to avoid. “Before you leave,” he says after a moment. “I’ve been meaning to call you about Bradford. I mean, about the charges.”

“Auggie—”

“He’s a minor . . . a good kid with his whole life ahead of him.”

“Everything’s already been turned over to the county attorney. You know that.”

“You could . . . pull the charges.”

“ ‘Pull the charges’?” Incredulity rings in my voice; this is nervy even for Auggie. “We caught him with drug paraphernalia and an ounce of pot. He slugged one of my officers. T.J. had to get stitches, Auggie. There’s no undoing that.”

“There were extenuating circumstances. Bradford was upset about—”

I don’t know Bradford Brock, but I read the police report. The so-called good kid had enough marijuana on his person to supply the high school potheads for a month. The blood test that came back confirmed that he was high on methamphetamines, as well.

“Stress over a high school government exam isn’t considered extenuating circumstances,” I tell him.

“Look, I’m finding it difficult to believe my son had an entire ounce of marijuana on him. Perhaps T.J. . . . overreacted. Maybe you could . . . correct his report. At least with regard to the amount of pot.”

The conversation has taken a path I have no desire to tread. Uneasiness presses down on me. “I don’t think we should go there, Auggie.”

“I have to go there. He’s my son.” He sighs. “Come on, Kate. Work with me here.”

“What, exactly, are you asking me to do?”

“Nothing that doesn’t happen every day.” He pauses. “Come on. Reports get lost. Evidence gets lost. It happens all the time. It would mean the world to me and my wife if you could make this go away.”

“You’re asking me to cross a line, Auggie.”

“Kate, I’m desperate. This situation has been a nightmare. If Bradford is tried as an adult and convicted, these charges could ruin his life. He’ll have a record.”

That’s when I realize this is an argument I’m doomed to lose. Auggie Brock is, indirectly, my boss. But he’s also a father, and I know better than most that blood always trumps lesser loyalties, which include right and wrong.

“For God’s sake, Catherine is going to have a breakdown over this. You should have called me instead of arresting him! Why didn’t you let me take care of it?”

“Take care of it?” I take a deep breath, close my eyes briefly, remind myself Auggie is a good man who’s been placed in an untenable situation by someone he loves. “I’m going to pretend we never had this conversation.”

The line goes dead before I finish.