Trial by Fire (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 6)

by Linsey Lanier

  Relieved to finally get to the purpose of his visit, Parker discreetly explained what had happened to Miranda fifteen years ago, the cold case they were working on in Chicago, the suspect Adam Tannenburg, and the strange visit he’d found in the prison logs.

  He did not mention the visitor was Miranda’s ex-husband.

  Wolak puffed on his pipe as he listened, thick brows knit together. “What did you say the visitor’s name was again?”

  “Leon Groth.”

  “A cop, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Out of Oak Park.”

  Parker hadn’t mentioned that. “Yes.”

  Slowly Wolak nodded. “I started out on the Oak Park force. I remember him. A real gem of a guy.” Wolak’s sarcasm was as thick as his smoke.

  Parker’s pulse quickened. He’d found a man who had actually known Groth? This was more than he’d expected.

  “You didn’t care for him?” he asked, holding his anticipation in check.

  Wolak blew a circle of smoke into the air and grimaced. “Never liked the man. He was one of those types who always had to prove how tough he was. All the time complaining about his wife. How she’d never listen to him. How she sassed him. How he always had to show her who was man of the house. A real man doesn’t need to do that.”

  How true. Parker wondered what sort of details Groth had shared with his fellow officers about the beatings he’d given Miranda. The thought sickened him.

  He sat forward. “Officer Wolak, do you recall Groth’s visit to Adam Tannenburg on February first of that year?”

  Wolak put his pipe in a tray on the side table and sat up in the recliner. “Actually, now that I think about it, I do.”

  Parker waited for him to say more.

  “Tannenburg was kind of a big guy, right?” He gestured with both hands to indicate broad shoulders.

  “According to one witness, that’s correct.”

  “Shaggy blond hair. Young. Couldn’t have been older than twenty. Came from a well-to-do family.”

  Parker was impressed. “That’s right. You have an excellent memory.”

  Wolak waved a dismissive hand. “I always prided myself on keeping up with those in my charge. But this Tannenburg, he was different. Hard to forget. He’d been brought in for questioning a few weeks before.”

  Parker nodded. “A month and a half before. About the Sutherland case.”

  Wolak leaned back in the recliner, began rocking again as if it helped him see the past more clearly. “Right. About the house fire. They let him go.”

  Again Parker nodded.

  “Then they brought him in a second time.”

  “In February.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What was it for that time?”

  Wolak stopped rocking, leaned forward with his arms on his knees and stared out the living room window at the remains of the sunset.

  He shook his head. “Don’t recall that. But it was right after the Super Bowl so I know it was February. I remember seeing Groth in the waiting room that night. I asked him what he was doing in my neck of the woods.”

  Parker felt a muscle in his jaw tighten. “What did he say?”

  Wolak reached for his pipe and took another puff. “Groth told me he had the goods on Tannenburg. Could put him away for a long time. That if Tannenburg got out it would be only by his mercy. I thought he was blowing smoke up my ass.” He chuckled wryly at his own pun as smoke circled his head.

  Again Parker waited.

  “But then, the next day Tannenburg was released, and I thought must have been something to what Groth said. He was pretty well connected with certain folk, if you catch my drift.”

  Parker clenched the padded leather on the arm of the couch. “Do you mean Groth was blackmailing Tannenburg?”

  “That’s the impression I got.” He shook his head. “Don’t know how that sonofabitch pulled that one off. But like I said, he had connections.”

  “Officer Wolak, information is missing from the log on Tannenburg. I saw the record myself in the prison archives this afternoon. All that’s there is a note of his incarceration and the date and time of Groth’s visit.”

  Wolak chuckled bitterly. “I’m surprised you found that much. Groth probably had them leave it in the file for leverage on the guy. In case he ever went back on whatever Groth wanted from him.”

  Parker felt a punch in his gut. It was Groth who’d had the details on Tannenburg removed from the records? He hadn’t realized the piece of excrement had been so powerful.

  “You really believe Groth did that and got Tannenburg released?”

  “Sure do. I think that bastard made some kind of deal with the guy in exchange for his release.”

  Parker’s mind raced. “How could Groth do that unless Tannenburg was truly guilty of something?”

  Wolak shrugged. “He probably was.”

  A police officer has proof of a prisoner’s crime and he gets him released? Why? What did Groth get out of this? “Do you know what it was? Did it have anything to do with the Sutherland case?”

  Wolak stared out the window another moment then shook his head. “I don’t know. But from the hints Groth gave me that night he was definitely pulling the strings. Sorry I don’t have anything more concrete. But I do have pretty good cop instincts.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Parker said.

  But where did that leave him? With more questions than answers. He wasn’t getting anywhere either on the Sutherland case or in finding the man who attacked his wife so many years ago.

  The two men sat in silence for a long while, mulling over the information while the sun set and the pipe smoke circled in the air.

  Then at last Wolak spoke again. “Now I remember what Tannenburg was brought in for.”

  Parker tensed as he asked the obvious question. “What was the charge?”

  Wolak’s face went hard and cold. “Sexual assault. Adam Tannenburg was a damn rapist.”

  ###

  Parker drove back to the airport in more distress than when he’d arrived. His thoughts raced madly in his head.

  Adam Tannenburg was a rapist? Had he raped and killed Lydia Sutherland? If that was true why was Leon Groth trying to get him off? Parker thought about that. Groth hated women. Perhaps he thought all rapists should be set free to prey on them. But why this one? How did Groth even know the man? From police reports on the fire in a nearby neighborhood?

  He didn’t know the answers.

  All he knew was that Adam Tannenburg was a rapist. And Miranda was looking for him.

  He had to put an end to that. He had to make sure she never discovered the connection between Groth and Tannenburg.

  If she did it could destroy her.

  He thought of the vicious nightmares that had come back with a vengeance. She’d suffered from them so long. She put on a good front, shrugged them off. But he knew they tore at her, ate away at her very soul. They had started up again when he took her to Las Vegas, on their first case for Parker and Steele Consulting. Now they had gained momentum and were back in full force. And why?

  Because he had brought her into this business, whetted her appetite for finding killers. Because he had brought her back to the city where her real life nightmares had begun.

  In his mind he replayed her agony of the other day when she saw the place where she’d been attacked in Lawnfield Heights fifteen years ago. Her pain was so real he could taste it. He’d thought she would fall apart, break down on that wretched spot—all because he’d brought her back here.

  He had to rectify that. He had to protect her mind and her heart as well as her body.

  It was time to act.

  He forced himself to concentrate on his driving as he travelled the last few miles. When he turned onto the ramp for the airport he glanced at the clock on the controls. He had only a few minutes leeway to catch his nine o’clock flight. It would be after midnight before he was back in Chicago. Tomorrow he would wrap up the Sutherland case.
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  No matter where Miranda was in her progress, he’d tell Demarco they’d done all they could and were heading home.

  Their anniversary was the next day, after all. Demarco would understand.

  Miranda was a different story. But he would handle her. Somehow. He didn’t know how yet but he would.

  And he knew one other thing for certain.

  He was shutting down Parker and Steele Consulting for good. Even a cold case was too much for Miranda. She would protest, she would fight, but he’d be firm.

  They would leave Chicago as soon as they could, and when they got home he’d break the news to her. It wouldn’t be easy for her, but he’d help her through it. He could retire. They both could. Go somewhere where they wouldn’t have to think of killers and rapists. Somewhere peaceful where he could help her to heal.

  He was at the airport now. He dropped the car off, handed the keys to an attendant and hurried inside to his terminal. As he found his seat and buckled himself in, his mind went back to his lovely wife. His heart ached for her once again.

  How long would it take for Miranda to accept the inevitable? He didn’t know. But one thing he was absolutely certain of.

  Whether she liked it or not, Parker and Steele Consulting would be no more.

  Chapter Fifty

  In the dark the old Tannenburg estate in Evanston looked like a setting out of a horror movie.

  The streetlights cast flickering shadows against the tall brick columns turning them into eerie ghosts. Fireflies fluttered in the high grass around the place, and Miranda could have sworn she heard an owl hooting.

  Wasn’t this the part where the audience shouts, “Don’t go in there.”?

  Templeton pulled up behind a squad car already parked along the curb. “There he is. Right on time.”

  Actually it was half an hour later than the boyfriend with the dog had said, but it wasn’t as if she had someone waiting at home for her. Still feeling pissed over Parker’s disappearance Miranda got out of the car and followed Templeton over to the squad.

  The boyfriend must have been watching in the mirror because as soon as they neared the rear bumper he shot out of the car and leaned against it, arms folded as if trying to impress his lady.

  “Well, hello there, beautiful,” he grinned.

  Templeton grunted back. “I’m on duty here, O’Malley.”

  “Sorry.” Immediately the officer straightened and his face went serious.

  He was a plain looking guy with a flat freckled nose and curly red hair. He seemed young and green but he looked spiffy in his crisp black uniform with the badges on the shoulders.

  Templeton nodded her way. “This is the PI I told you about on the phone.”

  Miranda extended a hand to the officer. “Miranda Steele.”

  “Gary O’Malley. Good to meet you.”

  Miranda peered through the squad’s rear window. The dog was in the back seat. O’Malley opened the door and told the dog to get out.

  It obeyed.

  “This is Lucky,” the officer told her. “Say hello, Lucky.”

  Lucky was a beautiful black-and-brown German Shepherd with bright dark eyes and alert ears. He sat and held up a paw.

  Miranda couldn’t help grinning as she shook it. “Hi there, Lucky. We hope you’ll be lucky for us tonight.”

  The officer scratched the dog behind his ear. “I don’t know about that. This is kind of a tall order.”

  Miranda put a hand on her hip. “Why’s that?”

  “A fourteen year old case? The longest I’ve ever heard of a scent lasting is a few weeks.”

  And here Templeton had been so hopeful. If she didn’t know how badly the detective wanted to solve this case, Miranda would think this was just an excuse to see her boyfriend.

  Templeton gave the officer a punch on the arm. “Stop being such a wet blanket, Gary. There’s vegetation out there. It’s possible.”

  O’Malley shrugged. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”

  “We’ve got to try.” She turned to Miranda. “You still up for this?”

  “Of course.” The whole case had been full of slim chances. It wasn’t the time to stop because of this one.

  “I’ve got some equipment in the trunk.” O’Malley opened the back of the squad car and reached inside.

  A moment later he pulled out helmets with searchlights attached and work gloves.

  Miranda grinned as he handed her a pair. “You’re really prepared, aren’t you?”

  “Part of our training.”

  She donned the helmet and switched on the light.

  Templeton raised a hand. “Hey, not in the eyes.”

  “Sorry,” Miranda said and turned toward the building. “Everybody ready?”

  “All set,” O’Malley said.

  “Then let’s get going.”

  Chapter Fifty-One

  With Lucky leading the way they made their way across the mown part of the lawn and into the weeds. Bugs flew up as they tromped through the tall grass and Miranda wished she had a machete. But before long they were at the building’s edge.

  In the helmet lights Miranda could see a line of broken stone that had once been an outer wall. Now it made a sort of low fence between the yard and what was left of the foundation.

  Templeton handed O’Malley a plastic bag.

  “Here, boy.” O’Malley opened the bag and bent down to let Lucky get a whiff of it.

  It was Lydia Sutherland’s hair from the Evidence Room.

  “Go,” O’Malley commanded and Lucky sprang over the fence and into the rubble.

  Miranda lifted her foot to climb over the barrier.

  “Careful there,” O’Malley called out. “There’s a lot of debris around.”

  “I’ll be okay,” she told him stepping onto a crunchy surface. What was it with men and their overprotective natures?

  Beside her, Templeton scanned the foundation with her light. “Broken floorboards.”

  “I see that.” As well as piles and piles of wreckage.

  Lucky was already about ten feet away, sniffing at a broken window pane lying against a mound of brick.

  As Miranda began to move gingerly over the floor she could make out the outline of a room. Two tall stone pillars stood behind them. A broken piece of a column lay to the right.

  This had probably been an entrance hall.

  On the other side of the space a pile of rotten wood and marble lay in disarray. Had that once been a grand staircase?

  Off to the side was another outline of a room. Lucky turned and bounded into it. Miranda picked her way over there and stepped over the remaining wall of concrete.

  This space seemed much larger and more filled with debris. She kicked at the stones at her feet. Something glistened under them. She bent down and shined her light between two slabs of rock.

  “Look over here,” she called.

  Templeton made her way over. “What is it?”

  Miranda pointed. “Is that a candlestick holder?”

  Templeton bent over and peered at the tarnished misshapen silver under the slabs. “Sure looks like it.”

  Had Tannenburg used a candle to set the curtains on fire? Even if his DNA was all over it, it wouldn’t prove any connection to Lydia Sutherland’s death. Or that he’d set the fire here.

  Miranda rose and peered at the bricks of one of the standing column. “Maybe there was a fireplace here.”

  Templeton nodded. “It might have been some kind of great room.”

  “Yeah.” The room where Muriel Tannenburg had died.

  “Gary, bring Lucky over here.”

  The officer did. The dog sniffed around but didn’t seem impressed. After a moment he ran off to another corner.

  So much for that find.

  Miranda followed the dog over to the opposite corner with Templeton beside her. As they neared the spot, she stopped and pointed out a pile of odd-shaped fragments in the middle of the room. Ivory colored, charred along its edges.

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nbsp; “Are those what I think they are?”

  Once more Templeton leaned over to peer at the debris. “Looks like keys from a piano.”

  One that had gone up in the flames. “This must have been a music room.”

  “Probably. They were a musical family.” Templeton moved on and they worked their way to what seemed to be the next room.

  As they wandered along they ran into more broken glass, a few old coins, and bits of stone and iron near what seemed to have been another chimney.

  The next room was a little smaller but it held the same ash and rubble as the rest of the place.

  Lucky was at the far end of the house now, sniffing away, not finding any more than they had. O’Malley watched him closely.

  Suddenly the dog’s head shot up, ears alert. He barked once then headed out into the back yard and the tree line at the edge of the property.

  “Go, boy!” O’Malley hissed and ran after him.

  Miranda curled a lip. “Where are they going?”

  “Don’t know. I’d better find out.” And Templeton took off after them.

  Probably smelled a rabbit, Miranda thought, growing disgusted with this adventure. Why did they think they could find anything in this dilapidated place? O’Malley was right. Any scents would have been long gone, even if Adam Tannenburg had come straight here after he killed Lydia Sutherland and rolled all over every carpet.

  She gazed up at the pillars. He’d probably had an upstairs bedroom that had collapsed onto the lower floors long ago. You couldn’t tell which room was which, much less find any clues.

  They’d never get anything on Tannenburg. He would go free, wherever he was.

  Now alone she wandered into the last room at this end of the house. A sitting room? Maybe. She ambled around the perimeter, such as it was, looking for what, she didn’t know.

  In the far corner another brick pillar stood, the tallest one she’d seen here. About six feet high, its upper edges rose torn and jagged against the night sky. Overhead a rotten wooden rafter still clung to its stones. The wind whistled through the columns and the wood creaked a little.

  Miranda shined her light against it, saw the dusty remains of long ago charring, then slowly moved the light down to the floor again.