Cleansed by Death

by Catherine Finger

  Fifteen minutes later, I pointed my pickup truck west and north, waiting for the heat to kick in as I shivered in the frigid morning air. I put my portable coffee mug down only long enough to find acceptable tunes on the radio. It was just past 8:00 a.m., and the drive time would easily be cut down by a third because of the early hour and the breezy feel of Saturday morning traffic.

  Perfect day to cruise up north to see my people. I would not let family members know about this quick trip; it’d take what little spare energy I had to fill Georgi and Cliff in on this new chapter of my life’s story. That part of the visit would not be pleasant but, at the same time, it’d be nice to get it over with.

  Past Waukegan, sparse traffic on I-94 North toward Milwaukee freed my thoughts to wander. Given Cal “Nomad” Terry’s capture, and the hunch that he was likely the Mentor Sister Serial Killer, all movement on the manhunt had come to a standstill. But were the Mentor Sister Serial Killer and Terry the same person?

  I didn’t buy it. It was all too lucky and tidy. Was the killer really behind bars? And the unthinkable: if Cal Terry wasn’t our killer, did the real killer already have another woman?

  Another woman. I snorted. Images of Del floated out next to me, demanding my attention. I pushed them as far to the back of the truck as possible, but they crept right back into the front seat with me. One of the last times I had traveled this stretch of highway, Del had been with me.

  The window was barely open, letting in some of the glacial air to help keep me awake. I drove over the Wisconsin state line shortly after 8:30 a.m., shaking my head to dislodge the bad memories of Del and our ‘accident.’ I was on a new road now—safe, away from him, and heading toward my homeland that recalled simple days spent riding horses, skipping school, and cruising the lake with my buds.

  The night Georgi and I watched from the bleachers as Cliff made school history with the winning touchdown, clenching the conference title. That was the moment Georgi turned to me and swore she’d marry him one day. And I was by her side at the altar two years later when she did. Nineteen years old and right out of high school. I thought she was crazy, but I still stood beside her, both of us dressed in our finery, holding bouquets carefully crafted by one of her cousins. And now, years later, theirs was the happiest, strongest union around.

  A few hours later, I slowed down to take the ramp to Highway 33 at a reasonable speed, turning right at the stop sign. Passing through the Narrows between Baraboo and Portage, I surveyed the stark beauty of the Baraboo Bluffs flanking either side of the two-lane road. I’d spent many fine days horseback riding up and down those steep, rocky hills. They were a key part of the center of my life, my world.

  Soon I would park at the hundred-year-old Victorian frame house on Fourth Street that Georgi and Cliff had called home since their wedding day. They’d bought the house from Cliff’s grandmother, one month at a time. I had thought it confining and old and horribly small-townish. Now it seemed like paradise. Were there any new touches and additions they had created together? How had they decorated for the holidays?

  Georgi’s decorator eye, teamed with Cliff’s fine craftsmanship and attention to detail, had transformed the little house into a highly sought-after retreat. Over the years, they’d turned down offers that could fund small countries.

  Cliff must have been on the lookout as I parked on the street in front of their lovely home. He opened the front door as I climbed the first step of the front porch. A brass bugle nestled in fresh greenery adorned the front door. Georgi had also hung bugles of different sizes, artfully entwined in long-needled swags, along the porch railing and from the eaves on the low-slung roof. White lights ran the length of the garland, decked with large, red bows, along with clusters of red berries between the bugles and bows. As Cliff opened the door wider, Georgi hustled in the background, locking their two large Labrador retrievers in the kitchen and then grabbing two leather coats.

  “Hey, Jo! You look amazing!” Georgi’s hug melted me. We skipped down the stairs while Cliff locked the front door and trailed behind us toward my extended cab truck.

  “Nice ride. Can I drive?” Cliff zipped his coat and headed into the street toward the driver’s side.

  I laughed and tossed him the keys. Georgi headed toward the back, shaking her head and carping at her husband. I relaxed in the passenger seat, thoroughly enjoying Cliff’s pleasure as he drove the few short blocks to The Good Eats Café. Bracing against the wind as we crossed the parking lot, we grabbed hands as we jumped over the curb and ran under the awning to the café door. We huddled inside the tiny vestibule, behind a short line.

  “Good grief, guys. I haven’t been here for at least a hundred years. I can’t believe how much this place has changed. It’s so elegant now.”

  Cliff pulled off his gloves. “New owners. Put all kinds of money into it. Probably losing a ton of dough. Gotta have some pretty deep pockets is all I can figure.”

  The place was packed. These were the sounds of my hometown. I smiled and looked around the room, studying the patrons. Most of them looked vaguely familiar.

  Georgi brushed off the back of Cliff’s jacket with one of her mittens. “You don’t know that, Cliff. They might be doing just fine. In fact, I’ve heard they’re way past breaking even. There’s even talk of expanding. Might buy the store next door since the electric shop is gone. It’s been on the market for nearly a year now.”

  A large man in a chef’s apron appeared out of a swinging door on the right and motioned to the hostess, who immediately seated us in the one empty booth, raising the ire of the others waiting in line before us. Cliff and the man in white nodded warmly to each other.

  The waitress filled Cliff’s cup with hot coffee and placed a small glass of orange juice in front of Georgi. I turned up my own coffee cup and smiled my thanks as she filled it.

  “Good to see you again, Miss Jo.”

  I looked into her eyes but I wasn’t coming up with a name. Vague images of a slender runner dashed through my mind’s eye as she darted off to the counter. “Georgi, who—”

  “That’s Timke’s little sister.”

  “That’s Timke’s little sister? Boy, are we getting old. She was what, about five years behind us? I remember you babysitting her and us coming over to clean out the fridge every now and then.”

  “Yeah. And I got blamed!”

  “You’ve made up for it nicely though, dear.” Cliff gave her a sideways hug as he spoke, limiting her ability to slug him in the shoulder.

  “Anyway, since when has this place gone all yuppie haven on us? What’s with the brass railings and ferns?” I looked around at the nouveau design, shaking my head.

  “Hey. That may be true about the ferns and all, but you really have to give ’em credit for restoring the ceilings, floors, and wood trim in this place.” Cliff snapped open his napkin, placing silverware on either side of his plate.

  “Okay, I’ll give you the ceilings. They’re good looking, but who does tin ceilings? I came here for a little breakfast and a lot of gossip. You’re supposed to take my mind off my woes. One more line about the décor, and I’m going to have to talk about the Mentor Sister Serial Killer just to change the subject.”

  “Jo, please—” Georgi’s voice rose. She never understood how I could look at dead bodies and not faint. She couldn’t even watch police shows on TV.

  “Sorry.” I opened up a creamer and doctored my coffee. There I went again, ruining a perfectly good morning. I needed to downshift into small talk. “Order the country skillet and a bottomless cup of coffee for me, Georgi, would you please? I’m going to go to the girls’ room to splash some cold water on my face and then come back and start this conversation over.”

  I winked, slid out of the booth, and headed to the back. Maybe Nick had an update for me. I slid my phone out of my back pocket and sent him a quick text before stepping into the bathroom.

  ANY NEWS?

  I was examining my bangs when my phone buzzed. Less than nin
ety seconds. Not bad. My neck stiffened at his one-word response.

  Yes.

  Oh, no, please don’t let there be another one. It buzzed again while I was compiling a response.

  You’re beautiful, and I miss you. Hurry home.

  I blew out a belly full of air and shook my head, already texting my response.

  Idiot.

  I rejoined my friends. “So, did I miss anything?”

  Apparently, I had. Their faces reddened, and they lurched into silence as I slid in the booth.

  “What? Spit it out.” I cupped my hands around my mug and waited.

  Cliff must’ve been the designated talker. “Jo, it ain’t right. It just ain’t right.”

  Georgi grasped my hand after the food arrived. “You know I’ve had your back all your life, and I’m riding with you through this storm, too. I just wish there was something we could do for you. Is there anything you need, anything at all?”

  She held my gaze as I shook my head in response.

  “Well, is there anything new you want to talk about with either case?” She read the confusion in my eyes and smiled. “The case of the crazed murderer or the case of the crazy, rat infidel soon to be called your ex-husband.”

  I snorted. “Where do I even start? It’s all bad. It’s truly all bad. Del’s getting all my stuff and his girlfriend, and I’m being taken to the cleaners. End of story.” I’d told my woes to so many people in the past few days, I could recite them in my sleep. But it did take away my appetite. Not entirely a bad thing.

  “That ain’t right.” Cliff was indignant.

  “No, it ain’t. But it ain’t changing anytime soon, either. And I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m just trying to keep my eyes on the prize. Stay safe, sane, and available to Samantha, and keep putting one foot in front of the other. And then remember to wake up and keep doing it again the next day. But I’ll tell you this: I’m blessed in the middle of this storm. Don’t get me wrong. I hate everything that’s happening. It seems so surreal. But in those moments when it’s all going down in front of me, here’s what I see—you. Both of you and all my amazing friends. Warm and loving and present and everything I need, just when I need it. And what kind of crazy great news is that?” My heart opened wider as I recounted the truth of the blessings I’d experienced since my world turned upside down.

  “Nearly as crazy as having that terribly good-looking, Italian, FBI guy in your house, waiting on you hand and foot to hear Donna tell it.” Georgi held a fork in the air for emphasis. She stabbed it in my direction. “Aha! Your face is redder than Cliff’s shirt! What’s going on? Details, please.” She put the fork down and leaned in. Cliff rolled his eyes and concentrated on his skillet.

  “It’s not like that. We’re just friends. Colleagues really. He’s here on a case and helping me out at the same time. No big deal. Not a ‘thing.’ Not a ‘thing’ at all.” My voice had risen, but I couldn’t help myself. I was going for “natural” and ending up with excited half-shouts.

  “Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Cliff was back in the game now too. “You could do worse, Jo. Just sayin’. Looks to me like Del’s gone for good.”

  Georgi and I stared at him like a snake on the kitchen floor.

  “Cliff!” We shouted his name in unison. We startled ourselves and laughed a good long time. And we kept it up through the skillets, egg-whites and all.

  By the time we’d finished breakfast, it was nearly noon. Cliff wanted to head to the Farm and Fleet, while Georgi and I were seriously debating whether to take a quick cruise to Devil’s Lake. The lake won, and we dropped him off at home and headed out of town.

  Georgi angled herself toward me in the passenger seat. “Are you about ready to come back home? They don’t deserve you down there in Illinois. You’ve already got a great start with your rustic cabin on the lake. By the time you and all of us finish punching it up, it’s going to be a beautiful haven. What are you waiting for? Come home.”

  The roads had only been plowed once this morning, so I slowed to the speed limit as we hit Highway 113.

  “I wish. I don’t even know what home is anymore—a place of my own that isn’t the same without me. Home like you and Cliff have made for all these years in Baraboo. I don’t know where that is for me anymore.”

  The heavier brush signaled our arrival at Devil’s Lake State Park, and I drove toward the south shore, easily navigating the winding, asphalt road and sharp turns of Snake Hill. We made our way to the bottom of the country road that runs next to the picturesque lake. Waves crashed against the rocks on this brilliant, December afternoon, and we drank in the majesty of the scene. I’d asked Cliff to check on my cabin three days ago, so now Georgi and I could devote our few hours to the beauty of the terrain before us.

  Georgi pointed to a grove of trees with the hint of a path submerged between them. “Water’s pretty high again this year—been so much rain. You can still see signs of this fall’s flooding here and there. The walkway’s still covered in water.”

  “When did they put that in? I like it, but this isn’t exactly Atlantic City for crying out loud. What’s next? A roller coaster?” I glanced at Georgi and winked as I negotiated around the curves hugging the lake.

  “Are you still driving around with your head in the clouds, missing everything in front of you? This thing’s been functional for about two and a half years now. You always were looking for what might be up ahead. A new case just waiting around the bend.”

  “Yeah, maybe.” The road led into the campground area. I slowed down as we drove through a deserted checkpoint.

  “Maybe that’s the gift behind this mess,” Georgi mused. “Ever wonder what else you might’ve missed with all your rushing through life?”

  A long sigh was my only answer, and she wisely changed topics before I stopped talking completely.

  “So, seriously. What are you gonna do now? Don’t be mad at me for saying this, but they’re looking for a sheriff here in Sauk County. You could come home to Baraboo. Be like a part-time job for you. You could be our first female sheriff. You’d be a regular rock star, and half your old buddies are on the county board. Got a good feeling you’d be a shoe-in.”

  “Uh-huh. Wanna walk around the lake? Maybe take a hike, seeing as how it’s turning into another one of these freakishly warm winter days?” I steered toward the parking area.

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  I eased into a spot near the beach, parking in a barely-plowed row with a half-dozen other cars. Most of them sported ski racks on the top. Wisconsin in the winter. I shut the truck off and turned to Georgi. “You’re not going to pull out a beer or anything, are you?”

  “That was your thing, if you remember right.”

  “Oh, yeah, good point. How ’bout we shut up and hike?”

  Georgi jumped out and closed the door. She took off ahead of me, walking toward the start of the path we’d hike. It took me a minute of rummaging around in the backseat to find my sturdiest pair of workout shoes and put them on. I had to move from a jog to a sprint to catch up with her. We walked the length of the parking lot in silence, side-by-side, until it was time to begin our ascent. She had chosen one of the most challenging trails. I needed to get out more.

  It took a little while for us to get back in sync. Once we did though, it was just like those perfect afternoons spent together in high school, matching long strides as we admired every hot boy in the park.

  Georgi and I scrambled upward, slipping and sliding along the icy and steep path, until we reached the top, just as the wind picked up. The view of the clouds rolling over the lake was breathtaking. We stood together to take it in, turning slowly to catch the beauty in all directions. She snapped a few pictures and handed me her cell phone. I had just stepped into a clearing to find the best possible vantage point. Oh no, I hadn’t checked my work cell lately.

  I whipped it out of my pocket. I’d missed seven calls and five texts from three different people.
It must’ve been ringing off the hook in the restaurant, but I couldn’t hear it because of the noise. This could not be good. I punched in my voice-mail code and played Nick’s message first.

  “Josie, call me back. Now.” The six that followed were from him, Gino, and Mitch. My stomach tightened into knots. Mitch’s message was next. She’d put it to me straight. And she did.

  “Chief, there’s no good way to say this. We’ve got trouble. Cal Terry’s on the loose. He broke out of jail sometime early this morning. We don’t know how he pulled it off, but we need to know where you are. Nick said you could be in danger.”

  I plopped hard on a smooth rock as I listened to the rest of the messages in silence. Georgi slipped over to my side, watching me take in the news, call-by-call. I looked up at her and shook my head, not yet able to speak. Instead, I glanced at the three strong bars showing on the phone’s face, and punched in Mitch’s number.

  “Mitch. What’s going on?”

  “Where are you right now, Chief?”

  “In Baraboo.”

  “Chief, you need to stay put. ViCAP matched Cal Terry’s prints on your Christmas card to the Mentor Sister Serial Killer. You could be in trouble. You’re not coming back to town for a while.”

  “That’s what you think. I’m on my way.”

  “You really can’t do that right now. It’s too dangerous. The feds are bringing in more manpower. Let us bring him in.”

  “I don’t care. I hear you. I get it. But you’re talking about my territory now. I’m not backing off. We’re tracking him down, and I’m leading the charge. I’ll see you at the station in two-and-a-half, three hours, max.” I ended the call, stuck the phone back into my pocket, and then looked up at my lifelong friend. I held out her phone for her.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  I switched into cop mode. “I can’t. I’ve got to go.”

  “Figured. You want me to call Cliff to come pick me up so you can leave from here?”