“We don’t know squat,” Bobby said.
Bobby had been in favor of arresting Scottie immediately. Honsa had talked him out of it. “We have two teams on him,” Honsa said. “He’s not going anywhere.” Again, he used the threat to Victoria’s safety to keep Bobby in his place.
“We know that Scottie is lying,” I said.
“You don’t know,” Karen insisted. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see his face. You were waiting in the car when I spoke to him. He could be telling the truth.”
“Why are you still here?” Bobby asked.
“He was contrite, he was apologetic,” Karen said. “I believe he was legitimately afraid that I would violate him. When I told him I’d give him one last chance, he nearly cried.”
Wouldn’t you? my inner voice asked even as I wondered how it was possible that a woman who did what Karen did for a living could retain such a rosy outlook. “You said that Scottie told you he went to his girl-friend’s for a quick visit after work,” I reminded her. “He said he fell asleep. He said that when he woke up he first called the halfway house and then reported there as soon as he could.”
“That’s right.”
“He said the girlfriend was Joley Waddell. Did you see Scottie when we were at her place?”
“Maybe he was sleeping in the bedroom. Maybe Joley didn’t say anything for fear that he’d get into trouble. Or maybe she was embarrassed that we caught them together.”
“Maybe you’ve lost touch with reality,” Bobby said. “Ninety minutes’ leeway before he has to report in—I never heard of anything so ridiculous. Parolees in halfway houses are supposed to be treated like they are incarcerated. No leeway at all.”
“Those are the rules—”
“Then why weren’t you following the rules?”
“Because they’re men, not animals,” Karen said. “Besides, you don’t even know for sure that Scottie had anything to do with the kidnapping. You heard a voice on the phone. A voice that was disguised. You’re just guessing.”
“Ms. Studder,” Honsa said. His voice, as always, was in neutral. “Did you contact Ms. Waddell to confirm Thomforde’s story?”
“I didn’t. Roger did.”
“He’s the facility’s administrator?”
“Roger Colfax, yes.”
“Did Ms. Waddell confirm Thomforde’s story?”
“Yes.”
“She said that Thomforde had been with her?”
“Yes.”
“All evening?”
“I know it looks bad, but there could be a perfectly reasonable explanation.”
“Jeezus,” Bobby said.
“Did Mr. Colfax believe Ms. Waddell?” Honsa asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you contradict her story?”
“No. You said—you said before that you wanted to give Scottie the illusion of space. You wanted him to think he was still in control. So I told him I was satisfied for now, but that we’d discuss the matter again, later.”
Honsa smiled his reassuring smile at her. “That was excellent work, Ms. Studder. Thank you.” To the rest of us, he said, “If McKenzie is correct, and Mrs. Thomforde managed to contact her son, managed to tell Scottie that McKenzie and Ms. Studder were searching for him, Thomforde has to believe that McKenzie suspects him. But he must also believe that the police and the FBI aren’t involved. If he thought we were, I think he would run. What other choice would he have? But he hasn’t. Which means he thinks he’s safe. So now we can watch, just as we had hoped.”
“It’s possible,” Harry said, “that Mrs. Thomforde didn’t contact her son. That this is all part of the plan. Thomforde kidnaps Victoria, makes sure she’s secure for the evening, and then returns to the halfway house to avoid being violated, to avoid having anyone look for him.”
“Then why not return at seven when he was expected?” asked the tech agent. “He already had the girl. His partner could have made sure she was secured for the evening.”
“We don’t know the partner’s situation,” Honsa said. He was doing what he said he wouldn’t—brainstorming in front of the victim’s family. Yet I doubted either Bobby or Shelby would have had it any other way. “Perhaps he’s on parole as well. Perhaps the conditions of his parole are more stringent and carefully monitored.”
If Karen felt a jab at that last remark, she didn’t show it.
“They left Victoria alone, didn’t they?” Shelby said. “They chained her up and locked her up and left her alone. She’s all alone.”
She didn’t have a reason to make that assumption, but who was going to argue with her? Not me.
“They won’t do anything to endanger her,” said Honsa. “They need Victoria…” He nearly added “alive and unharmed,” yet edited himself. The words hung in the air just the same.
“She’s alone,” Shelby said. She gripped Bobby’s hand so tightly that his fingers turned white. He didn’t so much as grimace.
“Did you check the prison records?” I asked.
“Yes,” Harry said. He slid a computer printout across the table to me. “The staff at Stillwater has no recollection of a prisoner called T-Man or Mr. T. This is a list of everyone with a first or last name starting with the letter T who’s been released in the past twelve months. Lieutenant Dunston checked the names that he recognized.”
I studied the list. Bobby had checked eight names with a red pen. I could add nothing. It had been a while since I arrested anyone.
“One thing, though,” I said. “I think you should tap the phones at the halfway house, Mrs. Thomforde’s house, and Joley Waddell’s house.”
“Already taken care of,” said the tech agent.
“I think you should put Tommy Thomforde under surveillance as well,” I added.
Bobby leaned forward. “Why?” he said.
“He just went through a messy divorce. He needs money. Plus, he’s been working out, and, well, his name does begin with a T.”
Bobby leaned back and Honsa and Harry glanced at each other as if they had all simultaneously flashed on the same idea that I had had— maybe it was Tommy’s voice on the phone, not Scottie’s. I didn’t believe it. Yet it was possible.
Honsa passed a look to the tech agent. The tech agent grabbed a handheld and left the room.
“What happens now?” Bobby asked.
“The hardest part,” said Honsa. “We wait.”
“Oh, God,” moaned Shelby.
“I’m optimistic,” Honsa said.
No one agreed or disagreed with him out loud, yet we all understood the possibility: Scottie learned we had been looking for him, panicked, killed Victoria, and returned to the halfway house to avoid detection. It was a fear too great to speak aloud.
“We’ll wait for the kidnappers to call,” Honsa said. He looked first at Shelby and then at Bobby as he spoke. “They will call. They will call tomorrow. As soon as it’s humanly possible, we will arrange to exchange the money for your daughter. Once your daughter is safely home, we will make sure these men pay for their crimes.”
“I don’t care if they pay or not,” Shelby said. “As long, as long…”
“I understand,” Honsa said.
“Do you have children, Agent Honsa?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s one of the reasons I do this job.”
I don’t know if she found comfort in that or not. She slowly rose from the table and, without speaking, left the room. After a few moments, Bobby followed her.
Karen and I left Shelby’s Place at the same time.
“I pray that the girl comes home safely,” she said. “I pray that no one gets hurt.”
“Me, too.”
My car was parked on the far side of Wilder, facing north. Her car was on the near side, facing south. As I passed her car, Karen said, “I am so wired, there’s no way I could possibly fall asleep. I really don’t want to be alone, anyway. McKenzie, will you have a drink with me? Or…” The “or” is what made me stop in the middle of the stree
t. “The way I feel right now, I could be talked into anything.”
“Anything?” I said.
“The way I feel—if you feel the same way…”
I thought about it. I gave it all of five seconds before I said, “I have to make a phone call.”
“Nina?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll wait.”
“No.”
Karen nodded as if a great truth had been revealed to her. “Before, you said that Nina would do until the real thing came along. She is the real thing, isn’t she?”
“As real as it gets.”
“Why didn’t you say so? Were you embarrassed?”
Good question. Nina and I had discussed the M-word on several occasions, only she had been there, done that, and had nothing to show for it except some extra bad memories and a lovely daughter, so marriage wasn’t on the agenda. Still, in essence we had pretty much vowed to forsake all others. Why I had a difficult time admitting that aloud was as much a mystery to me as it was to everyone else.
“I’m told I don’t express my feelings well,” I said.
“You should work on it.”
“I’ve been told that, too.”
Karen took several tentative steps toward me, paused. Her hand dipped inside her bag. For a moment, I had the irrational fear that she was reaching for her gun. Her hand came out with her wallet instead. “I’d really like to know what happens with that little girl,” she said. She took a card from her wallet. “Will you call me? Will you tell me what happens?” I took the card and put it in my pocket. “Or I could call you.”
There was that “or” again.
“I’ll call you,” I said.
I was on I-94, heading west toward the Highway 280 exit, driving with one hand while holding my cell phone to my ear with the other. Nina Truhler was asking questions and I was trying to answer as best I could. “Ohmigod,” she kept saying. “Oh. My. God!” As if saying it often and loud enough would convince him to intervene on Victoria’s behalf. Personally, I thought she was taking the Lord’s name in vain. God never intervenes. He leaves that to us mere mortals.
I had hoped that Nina would invite herself over to my house. Like Karen Studder, I felt the need for some TLC. Instead, Nina announced that she was going home early to check on her own daughter, Erica. I didn’t blame her a bit and told her so.
It wasn’t until we finished our conversation that my hands began to shake. To avoid a wreck, I took the Larpenteur Avenue exit off 280 and pulled into the rutted lot of the abandoned service station at the top of the ramp. I had Stacey Kent in the CD player; she was wrapping her cool, hip, girlish voice around some jazz standards. It took a half-dozen songs before I stopped trembling and another half dozen before I felt up to driving home. I might have broken down altogether except what good would that do?
10
It should have been cold and gray with a hard, wet wind that plucked at the heart—a morning to match my mood. Instead, it was one of those golden days that remind Minnesotans why they live here. The air was warm and clear, the sky a rich blue, and a light breeze made the leaves tremble with the promise of autumn.
I was in my backyard, drinking coffee, watching the ducks, trying to remember which one I had named Victoria. My muscles ached from lack of rest, and my stomach murmured uncomfortably. For some reason, when I don’t get a full night’s sleep, I feel nauseous until I’ve had something to eat. I didn’t feel up to facing a plate of eggs, so I drank my breakfast. Coffee and Jim Beam.
Several times I checked to make sure my cell phone was fully charged, several times I scrutinized my watch, several times I debated calling H. B. Sutton, all within a few minutes. I could have gone to Shelby and Bobby’s place, only I didn’t want to intrude. I might have claimed them as family, but their pain, their anguish, belonged to them alone. It was fueled by blood and couldn’t be shared.
I would have called Nina. Despite the late hours she keeps, she always rises early to help Erica get off to school. I could have caught her before she returned to bed. Only I was afraid of tying up the phone.
Eleven, H. B. had said. She’d transfer the money and call by 11 A.M. I studied my watch yet again. Three and a half hours to go. Two hundred and ten minutes. Twelve thousand, six hundred seconds. Sonuvabitch.
I convinced myself that the Dunstons would be anxious to hear from me—or at least the Feds would—so I drove over there. I parked in front of the house. It looked exactly as it had the day before. So did the park across the street, and I wondered briefly how that was possible. The kidnapping of Victoria was beyond terrible, yet the world had not changed because of it. Only Shelby’s world and Bobby’s world and my world had changed. I flashed on the lyrics of an old country-western ballad. Like Skeeter Davis, I couldn’t figure out why the sun kept on shining. It didn’t make a lot of sense to me.
I met Harry on the porch. He had changed clothes, so he must have gone home. For how long I couldn’t say.
“Anything?” he asked.
My cell phone was in my hand, and I held it up for him to see. “Any minute now,” I said. “Have you heard from the kidnappers?”
“No.”
“What about Scottie?”
“He left the halfway house at seven forty, walked to University, took the bus to Dale, walked the rest of the way to work, arrived ten minutes before it opened. He’s been there ever since. Our agents don’t believe he’s used a phone.”
“Terrific.”
Harry was holding a mug emblazoned with the logo of the Girl Scouts of America. “Fresh coffee inside,” he said. “Shelby made it.”
“How’s she holding up?”
“She’s…” Harry sighed as if he were disappointed he couldn’t find the right adjective to describe her. “Yesterday there were a couple of times when I thought we might lose her. Today… today she seems to be gathering strength. Bobby’s the one I’m worried about now. He’s burning so much fuel trying to keep it together, to maintain control. I have to think the tanks are getting close to empty.”
“What can I do?”
“A couple hours of sleep would make a big difference. He hasn’t been to bed yet.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I said.
I stepped inside the house and looked for Bobby. I couldn’t locate him, but I found Katie standing on the staircase. Damian Honsa and the tech agent both said, “Good morning,” from the dining room table. I blew them off when she waved me over.
“They kept me out of school,” Katie said.
“Probably a good idea,” I told her.
“I don’t mind missing school, only we have soccer practice afterward. I hate to miss that.”
“I understand.”
“Victoria won’t mind missing practice. She’s getting bored with soccer, I think. She’ll miss going to school, though. She likes school, I don’t know why. They gave her an award, you know.”
“I know.”
“Student of the quarter. Nobody had better grades. Nobody in the entire school. Even the eighth graders. I think it’s because Victoria likes to read. McKenzie?”
I brushed the hair out of her eyes.
“They keep telling me not to be afraid,” Katie said. “They say I should stay in my room as much as I can and keep out of the way and not be afraid because they’re going to get Victoria back and she’s going to be okay and I shouldn’t be afraid. McKenzie, are you afraid?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid, too.”
“I know.”
“Do I have to go back to my room?”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
“It’s just that I don’t want to wake Daddy.”
“Is your dad in your room?”
“He came in a little while ago to talk to me and he fell asleep.”
“Don’t wake him,” I said.
“Where should I go?”
“Have you had breakfast?”
Katie nodded. “I wasn’t hungry, but Mom made me eat a b
unch of waffles. Not the ones you put in the toaster. The real kind. Mom made waffles and eggs and sausage. I only ate the waffles. Do you think it would be all right if I went into Victoria’s room? I won’t touch anything. I just like sitting in there.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind.”
“I don’t know. Victoria got real mad the last time.”
“Times change.”
“I’m glad you’re afraid,” Katie said. “I tried hard not to be afraid, but I couldn’t help it. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” I said.
I found Shelby in the kitchen. She was washing a platter that she normally would have placed in the dishwasher.
“Hey,” I said.
“Good morning.” I rested my hands on her shoulders, and she lifted her cheek for me. I kissed it, and she said, “So, how are you holding up, McKenzie?
“As best I can.”
“Good. I need all my men to be strong today.”
All my men, my inner voice repeated.
“I expected you over an hour ago,” Shelby said.
“I didn’t want to get in the way.”
She stopped washing the plate and looked at me as if I were a tourist attraction, something odd and improbable that she had never seen before. “In the way?” she said. “You’re family, McKenzie. You were family long before you agreed to give us a million dollars.”
“Yeah, well, once we bring Victoria home I expect to get the money back.”
“Amen,” Shelby said. She finished washing her plate and set it on a rack to dry.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No.”
“You look better.”
“That’s because I’m holding it in. Like Bobby. If I start to let it out again, I’ll never stop.”
“Katie said you made waffles.”
“I made breakfast for everybody, including the FBI. It was the least I could do. Besides, it helped me keep my mind off of things. Are you hungry? I could make you an egg sandwich. With shredded cheese. And a couple slices of tomato. I know that’s one of your favorites.”
Madman on a Drum Page 10