In the Ground (David Wolf Book 14)

Peer Review had been conducted within the department. Three-sixty, meaning three-hundred-sixty degrees, meant department heads rated their subordinates on performance, while staff rated their managers at the same time.
This time around the results had been anything but impressive. The data showed over ninety percent of deputies were sub-optimal at their jobs according to managers, and eighty percent of managers were failing abysmally at their own jobs according to their subordinates.
Sheriff Will MacLean had found the same numbers being reported over his last two years in office, but he’d written it off as fluke anomalies, ignoring the stats. Bullshit surveys, as Wilson had said he’d called them.
When Wolf had shown curiosity at the latest review results, Undersheriff Wilson had pointed out the drop-in performance closely matched a re-shuffling of much of the staff positions two and a half years ago. MacLean had put seven new managers into positions they’d never had before, and apparently now everyone in the entire department sucked at their jobs.
If Wolf’s time in the Army had shown him one thing, it was that if you didn’t trust the man next to you in battle, you might as well count yourself dead. As far as he was concerned, these numbers showed the department was a sinking ship.
Wolf sought Patterson’s and Wilson’s help finding the solution to the problem, and after a couple months of deliberation and outside counsel from Dr. Hawkwood and other experts, they came to the conclusion that leadership training across the board for managers and high-level staff was desperately needed.
The decision did not come lightly, as that would mean Wolf, Wilson, and Patterson would be among those taking classes. But if it meant the place’s morale lifted, if everyone trusted each other even half as much as they did now, Wolf counted it well worth the effort.
Or, at least, that was the plan.
Wolf turned around to find a ponderous Patterson.
“What’s Helms’s problem?” she asked. “You showed them the peer review results, right?”
“Yeah. But …”
“But what?”
“I might have pissed him off when I mentioned his roof repair budget was a hundred grand over, and that the construction firm he approved was suspiciously close to his family.”
“You said that?” She exhaled. “I thought our plan was for you to go in with your nice face.”
“He’s an asshole, what can I say?”
Patterson hopped to the couch and sat heavily. “If we don’t get anything approved by the council before MacLean’s back, you know he’s just going to take fifty-grand and upgrade his boat house up on Cold Lake.”
Wolf nodded. “That’s what they said. They want to get everything into the state in the next week, before MacLean gets back. Apparently we push back less than he used to.”
“Really.”
Wolf nodded.
“You know,” Patterson said, “Margaret says he’s changed. Apparently he’s all about fruit and vegetable juice now. And enemas or something? She says he’s calm.”
Wolf had heard the rumors and the vague explanation of MacLean’s recovery from the single phone conversation he’d had with the man that spring. “I’m not sure people like MacLean change. He beat advanced-stage pancreatic cancer. He’ll be coming in with more cocksure swagger than ever.”
“Who knows? Maybe he’ll be all for this training, too?”
Wolf raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t count on it. It would be tantamount to admitting he made a mistake with his hiring two years ago.”
She exhaled. “Yeah. You’re right. So…okay, tell the council we’ll start pushing back on other things unless they approve it. We need that in place, it’s an abomination that we’re not offering more support to our—”
Wolf held up a hand. “I know, I know. Listen, I think I misspoke…they’re on board with the fund, but the stipulation is that we give them an itemized list of what exactly the fund means, what’s going to be included, which positions get what training. And, of course, the cost of everything itemized out ‘to the last class’ as Helms put it. He wants a spreadsheet.”
Patterson upturned a hand. “Well, why didn’t you say that? That’s simple enough. We can get quotes from Hawkwood’s friend who does the training. We can check with another company or two. You just set up a spreadsheet, maybe type up a page report, no problem.” She snapped her fingers.
Wolf eyed the stacks of paper. Had they grown since they’d started talking?
She read his face. “When does the council need this itemized report by?”
“And the spreadsheet.”
“Right. And the spreadsheet.”
“By the end of today.”
“Geez.” She looked at the papers on his desk. “Okay. And when’s Wilson coming back again?”
“Five more days.”
“Five?” she asked, exasperated. “What’s he doing down there in Denver, anyway?”
“His father’s not doing too well.”
“Oh. Oh yeah, right.”
“The Denver PD offered him a job.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Are you serious?”
“Assistant Chief.”
“Wow.”
“He turned it down.” Wolf shrugged. “Maybe he’ll change his mind and won’t come back.”
She stood with her mouth open.
“I’m kidding.”
She sighed and thumbed through the papers on his desk, this time looking more carefully at individual layers in the stacks. Quickly, she began reconfiguring chunks of the papers into various piles. When she was done she held up a four-inch thick pile and flapped it at him. “Okay, listen. I’ll take these to take some stress off you and to make Charlotte and her staff a lot happier. The rest of this can wait a week for Wilson.” She studied the ream of paper in her hand. “Shouldn’t take me more than an hour at the most.”
“Thank you, Heather.” Wolf wondered how long it would have taken him. Probably the same hour of work, but spread out over a dozen hours, spread over five days. “When’s Lorber ready with his preliminary on Chris Oakley?”
“He’s finishing it now. We’re headed down to go over it with him at seven-thirty. The three men from Jackson Mine are coming. Should be enough time to debrief Lorber and be prepared for the interviews.” She flapped the papers again. “And you know it’s not that tough. You could set aside thirty minutes every morning, where you only do paperwork. That