by Karen Rose
“Nothing. I just have to get through it on my own. But… this is harder than usual.”
“You know, you’re really hard on yourself. Do you think you’re the first cop this has happened to?”
“You?”
He nodded once. “Long time ago. You okay to go in now?”
“I have to be. How do you handle it?” she murmured when they were walking side by side. “When you get overwhelmed?”
“Therapeutic sex,” he said wryly. “I’m serious,” he added when she snorted a surprised laugh. “Sometimes you need to hold back reality for a little while.”
She thought about the amazing ride she’d taken with David that morning. Part of her had been feeling a little guilty for forgetting her grief for those few minutes. The other part of her knew it was silly and that Kane of all people would have told her that. But hearing it from Noah made it a little easier. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime.” Opening the door, he stuck his head in, then looked back. “Just Joel.”
He’d understood that, too, her fear of seeing Kane here. Like this. She drew a breath and made her feet move. Ian stood waiting impatiently.
“I’ve got an angry undertaker pacing out front,” Ian said. “We need to hurry.”
“What’s so important?” Noah asked.
“This.” Ian lifted the sheet, exposing Joel’s pelvis. “Right here. A needle mark.”
Noah winced. “He shot up in his groin? God. I hate when they do that.”
Olivia gritted her teeth and made herself look. “That’s usually a behavior for long-term IV drug users. Did you find track marks in other places?”
“No, I didn’t and I doubt he injected himself,” Ian said. “I found the binder from the pills in his stomach contents, like I told you earlier, but I started thinking after you left. The pills he swallowed to get that much binder in his stomach weren’t consistent with the high level of narcotics in his system. I figure he swallowed the first two, then the rest was injected. Given no evidence of prior IV drug use, and a couple pills already in his system, I doubt he’d have been able to access the femoral vein with a steady hand.”
“So somebody did it for him.” Olivia felt relief for the Fischers.
“I wonder if Joel was about to tell on the others,” Noah said. “They shut him up.”
“Something else,” Ian said. “Injected, it would have been a fast high and not the slower action of swallowing the pills. I don’t know how he managed to drive anywhere.”
Olivia frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t think he drove his own car off the road,” Ian said.
“They would have had to put him behind the wheel, shove his foot on the gas, and put the car in gear from outside the car,” Noah said. “It’s been done.”
“Whoever did this had to be strong enough to put Joel in the driver’s seat,” she said.
“Or they could have shoved him over the gearshift,” Ian said. “When you know what you’re looking for, you see things differently.” He pointed out a bruise on Joel’s left hip. “Could have been from being thrown from the car. Could have been from the shift.”
“I think this will give the Fischers some peace, but worsen their grief, too,” Olivia said. “Someone murdered their son.”
• • •
Wednesday, September 22, 11:15 a.m.
Austin stood on a downtown Minneapolis sidewalk, at the large plate-glass window of a gym with televisions suspended from the ceiling. They had the closed-captioning going for the exercisers, who sweated on treadmills.
His face was all over the news. The arsonists had struck again last night. Four dead. So many hurt. This has to stop. I have to make this stop. Then the next story started and his blood went cold. A bomb-threat scare. At my school. An unidentified student narrowly escaped kidnapping. Police detective killed. An interpreter missing.
That the bomb threat related back to him, he had no doubt. Were they trying to kill him to keep him from talking? Were they trying to keep Kenny from talking?
A man identified as Captain Bruce Abbott came on the screen, a sign language interpreter at his side. Call us, Austin. You are in danger. We’ll keep you safe.
He dropped his eyes to the cell phone in his hand. Kenny had sent another text. Don’t trust the cops. Call me. I can hide you.
Austin knew one way to separate the truth from the lies. He opened the latest from Kenny’s new account. Here in TC. Scared. Where can I meet u?
He hit SEND before he could change his mind. Then started walking. He didn’t want to stay in one place, didn’t want to draw attention. Keep walking.
Wednesday, September 22, 11:15 a.m.
He’d had to exert a great deal of discipline this morning not to obsess over the silence of Austin Dent. Austin was still top of the news, so the police hadn’t found him yet. He’d sent one more text from Kenny’s “new” account. He hadn’t wanted to lay it on too thickly, but for God’s sake, where was the damn kid?
There had been heavy traffic all morning due to Detective Kane. Cops gathered here to soberly talk, to mourn. To wonder how it could have happened. Such a good cop. Such a nice guy. About ready to retire. Not fair.
Well, life isn’t fair. So get over it. He’d taken the next order when the cell phone in his pocket buzzed.
Austin. Finally. “Hey, Buster, I need to take a break. Can you handle things?”
“Sure,” Buster said, not looking up from the latte he was mixing.
The men’s room was empty. He checked his cell phone and smiled. Austin was back, in the Twin Cities. Very good.
Need to meet U, he typed. You’re in danger.
When? Where?
He was supposed to be Kenny, who was supposed to be at school, twenty minutes from downtown. 12:30, he typed. Will sneak away at lunch.
McD’s by school?
He frowned then. The McDonald’s was across from the sub shop, where he’d grabbed the interpreter. Too many cops looking for you. Library parking lot.
Okay.
Hide till then. Cops looking for you. They lie. Don’t trust them.
That should take care of Austin Dent until he could take care of him in person.
• • •
Wednesday, September 22, 11:20 a.m.
“Not home,” Olivia muttered, standing on Eric Marsh’s welcome mat.
“We could try for a warrant,” Noah said and she shook her head.
“Brian Ramsey couldn’t get me one last night for Joel and that was with proof he’d been in a fire. We’re not getting a warrant. Not unless we find something else.”
The apartment door to the left opened and a grumpy-looking old man stared out. “He’s probably at school. Some kind of engineering major. Whaddya want with him?”
“We want to talk to him,” Olivia said. “I’m Detective Sutherland and this is Detective… Webster.” She’d almost said Kane. “And you are?”
“Jed Early.” Early glared. “Comings and goings and goings-on. Give a kid that age an apartment and you’re just asking for trouble.”
“Who’s been coming and going?” Olivia asked.
“Kids. Mostly that Frenchie. Albert,” he sneered. “I guess they’re free to do what they want in their own place, but I should be free not to have to listen to it.”
“So Eric and Albert were…” Olivia said and Early nodded sourly.
“Every night. All night. God.” He shuddered. “Made me wish I needed hearing aids.”
“You mentioned kids, more than one,” Noah said. “Who else?”
“Another boy and a girl.”
Olivia’s ears pricked. “You get any names?”
He frowned. “I don’t snoop.”
“But you’ve got good hearing,” Olivia responded cagily and he grinned.
“I do indeed. Mary and Joel. No last names, though. I think they were studying together. Always had their laptops. Sometimes Joel brought big charts, rolled up.”
Of course you don’t sn
oop, Olivia thought. “When did you last see Eric?”
“Yesterday, carrying a box. I didn’t see him after that. I had to go to the doctor.”
“When did you come back from the doctor?” Noah asked.
“I got back after two, and I haven’t seen them since. But something was going on over there. They were all arguing early Monday morning. Woke me up.”
The hairs rose on the back of Olivia’s neck. “What time, sir?”
“About one, two. My eyes aren’t so good and I couldn’t see the clock. Sorry.”
“No, you’ve been very helpful,” Olivia said. “Will you be around later?”
He nodded. “They did something pretty bad, didn’t they? I mean, I recognize you now. You worked the case of all those murders in that pit. You’re a homicide cop.”
“I am. Right now, we don’t know what they have or haven’t done. But thank you.” She waited until they were back in Noah’s car to talk. “I think we can get a warrant now.”
“You call the ADA. I’m going to call the airports and make sure Eric doesn’t slip away. The Fischers said he had money. He could be a flight risk.”
They each made their calls and Olivia was relaying all the details to ADA Brian Ramsey when Noah waved at her to wait.
“Tell him that Eric Marsh bought a ticket yesterday morning—one way to Paris. It took off at five-thirty yesterday afternoon, but he never showed.”
“I heard,” Brian said. “I’ll have the warrant in thirty.”
Olivia hung up. “Let’s do a halftime check. We’ve got Joel who was at the fire. Lovers with Mary and friends with Eric, who is lovers with Albert.”
“Maybe they all did it together. Didn’t Micki say there were at least three?”
“She did. But how do Joel and pals connect to Tomlinson and this Dorian Blunt?”
“And which of them did Austin Dent see shoot Weems and then get in a boat at the dock on Sunday night?”
“And how does Tomlinson’s wife factor in?” Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why lie to us?”
“And why the glass balls? Why only two? Why not leave one at last night’s fire?”
“Something tells me that once we find Eric, Mary, and Albert, we’ll get answers. Let’s get a key from the super and wait by Eric’s door. I don’t want him slipping by us.”
Wednesday, September 22, 12:00 p.m.
Insisting he not drive, Glenn and his mother had met him at the firehouse. His mom had driven him back to the apartment, Glenn following behind in David’s truck. His mother was making a pot of soup, which David knew would cure anything that ailed him. It always had. Or maybe it was just having her fuss over him. Both worked.
Now he and Glenn sat in the Gorski sisters’ garden, David on the phone with Ethan while Glenn looked on, chomping at the bit.
“Well?” Glenn asked when David hung up the phone.
“That man is scarily efficient,” David said. “Ethan says the domain registration for Lincoln’s Web site was paid for by a Mary Francesca O’Reilly, aged twenty-three.”
“Did Mr. Efficient get an address for Ms. O’Reilly?”
“PO box on the card, but her social security number brings up several addresses. Most recent is a dorm at the university.”
“Where that kid Joel Fischer went,” Glenn said thoughtfully.
“Where thousands of kids go. Doesn’t mean she knew Joel. Doesn’t mean she was at the fire. But it does mean she had some contact with Lincoln Jefferson. She couldn’t just go in and pay his bill without his user name and password.”
“Unless she had somebody like Ethan helping her. Or she is somebody like Ethan.”
“Ethan’s a white hat,” David murmured, then smiled when Glenn laughed. “That’s what they call them. Guys who use their hacking skills for good and not evil. I’m thinking Mary isn’t a white hat. Plus, she paid with her own credit card. How covert is that?”
“You’re probably right. Still, I’m thinking your pretty detective needs to know this.”
“I’m thinking the same thing. She’s not gonna be happy about the way I found it.”
“After last night, do you think she’ll really care? After last night, do you?”
David thought about Jeff. About Kane. “No. And no. It could be that this Mary O’Reilly is just some Moss fan, like Lincoln. Maybe she’s the one who helped Lincoln track me down yesterday and again I have to ask why?”
“More importantly, will she do it again? Better call your cop.”
David reached for his cell just as it rang, Ethan’s number on the caller ID.
“I checked out Truman Jefferson,” Ethan said. “Lincoln called him from his cell.”
“Lincoln’s older brother,” David said. “I found his name last night. What about him?”
“He’s a Realtor. It would have been nothing for him to look up your friend’s address.”
“So Truman helped him. Not Mary.”
“Truman is likely, Mary is unknown. The only other call Lincoln made was to a prepaid. The prepaids are traceable, but they take more coordination to do so. I’d need a lot more time and contact with the holder of the phone. You need anything more?”
“This brother, Truman. Any idea on his stability?”
“You’re asking if he’s crazy? That I don’t know. Has he been in trouble? No. Hasn’t even had a parking ticket. Lincoln on the other hand, had a long string of problems over the years. Mostly loitering, public disturbance, a couple shopliftings. On paper, Truman seems like a regular guy.”
“Thanks, Ethan.” David hung up his own cell and from his pocket pulled the prepaid phone he’d purchased the night before.
“What are you doing now?”
“I’m setting up an appointment with Truman Jefferson and I don’t want him knowing it’s me. I want to meet him, be sure that he’s not nuts and that he understands what would happen if he helped Lincoln again. And then I’m calling Olivia to give her this info.”
Luckily Truman Jefferson had an afternoon free and, laboring under the misconception that his name was David Smith and that he was looking for real estate, his secretary gave him an appointment for one-thirty.
Olivia wasn’t so available. He got her voice mail and left a message. “It’s me. I need to talk to you about a woman named Mary O’Reilly. Call me. It’s important.”
“Now what?” Glenn said.
“I’m going upstairs to have some of Ma’s soup before I meet Lincoln’s brother.”
Glenn followed him out of the garden. “Tripping over cats works up an appetite.”
“Smacking down smug old men works up a bigger one. You coming?”
Glenn’s smile was sweet. “Sure, I like your mom’s cooking.”
Wednesday, September 22, 12:00 p.m.
The super opened Eric Marsh’s door and he, Olivia, and Noah flinched in unison. The odor wasn’t unbearable yet, but it was definitely getting there.
“Ah, damn,” the super muttered. “I hate it when this happens.”
Me too, Olivia thought. Noah took her elbow surreptitiously and gave her a shove forward. It was what she needed to move. The body was in the bedroom, lying on the bed, sprawled on his back, nude, an empty plastic baggie on the nightstand.
“That’s him,” the super said. “Eric Marsh. Never thought he’d go this way.”
“How did you think he’d go?” Noah asked, giving Olivia a chance to settle down.
“Always thought that friend of his would do him in. Guy was a thug.”
Olivia didn’t think anyone would describe Joel as a thug. “You mean Albert?”
The super nodded grimly, still staring at the body. “Yeah. Good old Al. Always thought his accent was a put-on, but it was good enough to get the ladies to swoon.”
Noah’s brows lifted. “We thought Albert and Eric were a couple.”
“They were. But Albert has a key and when Eric was away… Albert was a man who saw opportunity knocking. Maybe Eric found out Al was cheating on him.”
“Don’t know that name. But if she was pretty and had money, I wouldn’t doubt it.”
“What does Albert look like?” Noah asked.
“Big guy. Hockey player at the university. Helluva checker, but no finesse with the stick.” He pointed to a photo in which Eric stood arm in arm with a tall, dark, good-looking guy with very broad shoulders. “He looks exactly like that. That’s him.”
Perfect, she thought with satisfaction. “Sir, we’re going to need to get the ME and crime lab up here. Can you wait for us outside? And please, don’t talk to the press.”
“Nah. I got no patience for those people.” He backed away with a sigh. “At least the rent was paid for next month. It’ll take that long to get rid of the smell.”
Noah walked him out while Olivia called for the ME and CSU. Then she crouched next to the bed and, on a hunch, shone her flashlight on Eric’s pelvic region.
“Everything still there?” Noah asked dryly when he came back in.
She looked up. “Little knot of dried blood, right where Joel was injected.”
Noah’s brows went up in surprise. “Sonofabitch. Looking at the photo, Albert’s big enough to haul Joel around and put him in the front seat of a car.”
“Ian said whoever hit Weems would have had to be at least six feet, based on the placement of the crack in Weems’s skull. Albert is easily six feet.” Olivia looked around the room. “No sign of struggle.”
“You seem okay now,” Noah noted.
“Once I get past the body, I’m usually all right. Thanks for the nudge before.”
“Anytime. Abbott called when I was walking the super out. He talked to Kenny in the safe house. Said the boy remembers seeing a police scanner in the shooter’s van.”
“He’s listening to us,” Olivia said.
“Yeah. Abbott wants to keep him in the dark on Austin’s whereabouts, so we have a special frequency for any mention of the search. Also, somebody’s been burning paper in the fireplace. Looked like blueprints.”
“Getting rid of evidence. Even if we find Albert’s fingerprints in here, he can just say he lived here, so that’s no good. We need a way to tie him to this.”