Deciding to take advantage of this, I suggested, “The parole board would look favorably on your assisting with this.”
Ray grumbled, “I know who killed her. I didn’t know when I was first locked up, but I’ve had a lot of time to think with a clear head. I want a guaranteed release before I give you anything.”
Going on the little I knew from TV shows and conversations with Jon, I told him, “That’s not how it works. You have to share, and if it’s useful, they’ll make a deal.”
Ray laughed maliciously as he held the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Hey, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have, sister. You look too good to have done this work long. Tell your boss I have information, and see what he offers.”
I nervously sputtered, “You have to give me an idea of what you have, or he’s not going to offer anything. Remember, we still have to find a way to prosecute Mandy’s killer.”
Ray stared hard at me, then switched gears. “Ask me a question about Mandy, so I know you’re for real.”
I bought a little time by saying, “Why else would I visit a prison in Florida? Baker Correctional Facility isn’t exactly a great vacation spot. Fine.” I racked my brain for a moment. “Who would Mandy call if she needed a ride, and you and Carrie weren’t available?”
He rocked back in surprise. I had made a direct hit. I was excited for just a minute, thinking I might be able to go home tonight, until I realized I still had nothing if I didn’t have a name.
Ray hesitated and said, “Hey, you’re for real. Tell your boss I can give you the answer to that question—and that is the all-important question, isn’t it?”
I pried further. “It wasn’t Clay Roberts.”
Confused, he scowled and asked, “Who the hell is Clay Roberts?”
Trying to recover, I suggested, “I’m just saying it wasn’t Clay Roberts. Clay was a friend of Jon Frederick at the time.”
Ray laughed, showing a sorely neglected set of teeth. “Jonboy was in way over his head. Kind of like an altar boy dating a hooker. Mandy just was who she was. And she was like that before I ever met her. She can thank her dear, departed dad for that. Dumb bastard blew his brains out.” A ravenous smile slithered across his face as he added, “I miss Mandy. Jon-boy tried to change her, but if you put a prom dress on a pig, she’s still a pig.”
He made my stomach roil. Out of respect for Mandy, I said, “Mandy Baker was a beautiful young girl.”
His disgusting smile remained as his lecherous eyes met mine. “She was.”
At that moment, it was clear he’d abused her. He would never be prosecuted for it, and to make things worse, he was trying to work me over for a reduced sentence. I wanted to leave him rotting in prison, but he was better at this game than I was. He’d been using others his whole adult life. My best bet was to be honest and let him assume whatever he wished. After all, honesty had seemed to be my best form of deception so far.
A guard entered indicating they were going to do a count, which meant that if I didn’t leave right now, I could be stuck here for hours. I gave Ray a curt nod, and was grateful to get out of there. Most people are more likeable as you get to know them better. It wasn’t so with Ray Benson. As I was leaving, Ray requested that I return. I could die happily never setting foot in that place again.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
JON FREDERICK
FRIDAY, APRIL 18
FIELD SOUTH OF THE BRENNAN FARM
YESTERDAY’S SNOW HAD CRYSTALIZED into hoarfrost that sparkled in the sunlight. Even though I stood alone over the shimmering field of snow, I took my gun off of safety. My obsessive brain was telling me I had to walk down to precisely where I was shot before I could leave. I couldn’t help thinking that a less obsessive man wouldn’t have to walk around with wet feet all day. An insight had occurred to me at that spot, and I’d lost it during the subsequent trauma. Trying to trigger that memory, I traipsed down the snow-covered ditch and across the tundra until I found the site where my car had been parked on the day of the shooting. I felt a pang of anxiety as I remembered the four successive shots. I took in a deep, cool breath. It was just blue sky and me, looking at a blanket of hoar crystals. The bright sun made it almost feel like spring. There was no evidence that a homicide had been attempted just a mile away.
I enjoyed spring—it was the beginning of new life, and I remembered the excitement farm animals would exhibit to get out of the barn after a long winter. I inhaled deeply again, enjoying the earthy scents carried by the fresh air. The composition of the soil would give me an idea of how successful Al’s corn crop would be. I bent down and dug through the snow, grabbing a handful of dirt. I rubbed some of it through my hands as I closed my eyes and accepted the kindness of the warm sun. Morrison County wasn’t a particularly good part of the state to farm, due to the variations in the soil. Black, muddy dirt was found in some areas, and sandy, dry soil in others. Rocks were all over. I had an odd sensation, then a sudden revelation as the dirt fell through my fingers. I gazed at my hand, where there was no muddy residue. The soil was incredibly sandy, and significantly different in texture than the dirt in the ditches where Brittany’s body was found. I simply wiped away the sand and my hands looked clean again. As I walked back to my car and brushed the snow off my pants, I knew who had attempted to kill me and Brittany. The snow was melting, but there was no mud on the cuffs of my pants—only snow and sand.
TONY BUZZED ON MY CELL phone and I quickly answered it. He was talking fast. “Jason has offered to come in, if we let him talk to a priest. We also got the lab results from the leather jacket we found at the crime scene. Believe it or not, we got a hit from CODIS.”
I was surprised. CODIS, the Combined DNA Index System, connects crime laboratories throughout the United States. This meant that whoever was wearing that jacket had been incarcerated. My immediate thought went to Jeff Lemor, but I had to ask, “Who?”
“It belongs to a man we know wasn’t there.” He seemed to enjoy leaving me hanging.
Impatient, I prodded, “Are you going to tell me?”
“Good old Say Hey Ray Benson.”
I didn’t know what to say. How the hell did Ray’s coat get to Brittany’s crime scene? We knew with certainty that Ray was in prison at the time.
Tony continued. “By the way, my friend from the DEA called and told me Serena Bell showed up at a meth house with your mother.”
“Believe me, I’d never send Serena into a meth house.”
Tony added, “And yet, there she was . . .” He left the statement hanging, and I thought as fast as I could.
“Vicki’s from Pierz. She could have called my mom for help, and Serena was with my mom,” I suggested.
Tony continued, “And that’s what I told the DEA. Look, I’m not opposed to getting Vicki out of there. But what’s the point? She’ll be back there next week. Consider yourself lucky that it didn’t impact the DEA’s investigation.”
Wanting to get to my news, I blurted out, “I know who shot me.”
Tony was quiet, so I continued. “Al Brennan. Al returned home with muddy pants after Brittany disappeared. Remember, he claimed he had been checking out the south field? The soil in the south field is sandy. The area where Brittany’s body was found had heavy clay. If Al saw me at that field, he had to figure that, as a farm kid, I’d discover the error in his alibi. There’s no way his clothes would have been muddy if he’d been in the south field like he claimed.”
Tony mused, “No wonder Jason ran away from home. I thought he was acting suspicious, but he must have been nervous as hell. If Al tried to kill Brittany, why would Jason be safe?” After a moment of silent reflection, Tony asked, “Was Mandy wearing Ray’s jacket when Serena picked her up?”
I nodded into the phone as I said, “Yes.”
Tony said, “Whoever had the jacket thought it would implicate Ray. They didn’t know Ray was in prison.”
I was way ahead of Tony on this, and I wanted to g
uide him carefully to my conclusion. He would defend it more adamantly if it was his idea. I challenged him, asking, “Why did you ask me if the jacket was mine?”
“Because Mandy was telling everyone she got the jacket from you.” Tony was quiet, lost in thought for a moment, and I wasn’t about to interrupt. “This was about setting you up.”
I patiently waited for the conclusion that followed. Come on, Tony—-find it.
I could almost hear the wheels in Tony’s head turning. Finally, with an intake of breath, it came to him. “If Mandy’s killer thought the jacket would set you up, it couldn’t have been anyone in your family, or Serena, because they would’ve known the jacket wasn’t yours.”
“Exactly.”
Chapter
Thirty-Four
JON FREDERICK
SATURDAY, APRIL 19
PIERZ
SATURDAY MORNING, I RECEIVED a call from Vicki. She was ready to leave detox. When I picked her up, Vicki was dressed in an over-washed black sweatshirt and jeans, looking like she’d been through the wringer—which she probably had, in a sense. Her red hair was pulled back into a stubby ponytail. She was gaunt, and thinner than the last time I’d seen her. Her face was scrubbed clean of make-up.
As we drove away, I eyed her. “How are you holding up?”
Vicki sighed and responded, “That was rough, I’m not gonna lie. I’m so pissed at myself for starting that up again, I deserved the hell of detox. When can I see Hannah? Picturing her sweet face was what got me through the worst of it back there. God, I’m starving! Can we grab some food somewhere?”
Knowing that extreme hunger was a symptom of meth withdrawal, I’d grabbed a burger and fries from the Black and White Café on my way to pick Vicki up. I reached into the backseat to grab it, and plopped it on her lap. She gave a groan of gratitude, then dove greedily into the bag. I drove down County Road 45 toward the Brennan farm.
Vicki started to fidget and asked through a mouthful of fries, “Where we going?”
Ignoring the question, I asked her, “Why did you stop visiting Jeff?”
“I gave up. I had no hope to offer him.” She crumpled up the paper from the fries and pulled out her burger.
We drove in silence for a bit while she finished eating. After turning onto the dirt road where we found Brittany, I asked, “Who assaulted you, Vicki?”
Suddenly agitated, Vicki glanced over her shoulder out the rear window, as if to make certain we weren’t being followed. “I can’t talk to you. Talking to you didn’t help Jeff, and now it’s bad for me.” She was becoming more fearful with each passing breath.
I tried to make her understand. “You have nothing to lose, Vicki. He’s not going to stop coming after you until he’s locked up. The perfect victim is the one who never goes to the police.”
Vicki sat in silence for a moment, folding and refolding the wrapper from her hamburger. She gazed out at the snow-crusted fields as she spoke. “Of course I have something to lose—I have Hannah to think about. He’s sent me a message not to talk, and believe me, I got it.”
Having reached the culvert, I stopped in the middle of the dirt road and shut the car off.
Vicki couldn’t stand the silence. She frantically revealed, “After the last rape, something just broke in me. I had to feel something, and I knew a sure-fire way to do that.” She turned to me, eyes brimming with tears. “Next time you’re praying, thank God you don’t understand the pull of that shit. It never really goes away. It just lies in wait, knowing the time will come when its attraction becomes bigger than anything else. I regret it. I hate myself for what I did to me, and to my daughter. I have to start over with my sobriety now, but I accept that.” Her energy was visibly draining.
“He’s going to find you again,” I said gently. “And after he kills you, maybe Hannah will be next.” I went around to the passenger’s side to open the door for her. She was hesitant, so I took her hand and gently coaxed her out of the car. Vicki was going to be cold in her sweatshirt, even though the sun was out, as it was only about forty-five degrees.
Vicki stood facing me in the middle of the road, her hands pulled into her sleeves and her arms wrapped tightly around her torso. She was already shivering; whether this was due to residual withdrawal symptoms or the cold, I couldn’t be sure. She asked, “What are you going to do with me?”
“I need you to tell me what you know.” I started thinking about the attempted murders of Brittany, me, and Serena. “What’s happening here goes far beyond intimidation.”
With tears in her eyes, she nodded toward the culvert. “Is this where they found Brittany Brennan?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I can feel the evil here.” There seemed to be a sudden change in Vicki. She swallowed hard. “God, I’m so stupid! You’re right— the perfect victim.” She dropped her arms to her sides. “You’re just like every other guy. Okay, you know what? Just do whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.”
I had brought her here to get her to understand that the same man who assaulted her had attempted to kill before. Instead, she assumed I brought her here to abuse her. Sadly, I understood why. When you experience it so often, you can come to believe it’s simply what men do.
Vicki begged, “Just please, don’t kill me. Hannah needs me. I’m going to do better this time.” At that moment, the shadow of a cross slowly drifted over Vicki’s body.
I instinctively drew my gun and turned to see a large sand crane gliding overhead. Vicki dropped to her knees and started to cry. I quickly holstered my gun, then lifted her chin so she would look at me. “Who hurt you, Vicki?”
She wrenched her chin out of my grasp and stared at the ground. “I’m so stupid. I trusted you. But that’s what addicts do— we put our faith in the wrong people.”
Vicki was shaking, but I still needed her to give up her attacker’s name. If I said it first, I could be accused of leading the witness. I looked down and spoke to the young woman falling apart in front of me as I considered my next step. “I believed you when you told me Jeff was innocent. When I heard you lied about being his alibi, I thought I was taken for a fool. But now I think you knew Jeff was innocent, because you knew who did it. I think you’re the one person who has always known who hurt that little girl. I need to know your story.”
Awash with guilt at my methods, I was about to help Vicki up when she finally started talking. She confessed through her tears, “When I was sixteen, I was at a party at the Genola gravel pits. There was something in the pot I was smoking, and I ended up passing out, facedown across the seat in my boyfriend’s truck. A couple hours later, someone was yanking my jeans off. I thought it was my boyfriend at first, so I kind of tried to shoo him off. But then I realized it was somebody else. He put his hand over my mouth and asked me if I liked it rough.” She shuddered. “Do I really have to go over the rest?”
I squatted down next to her and rested my hand on her shoulder, gently prodding, “I don’t need the details of the assault. I need to know who did it.”
Vicki swallowed hard and said, “He told me if I ever told anyone, he’d kill me. It was brutal, and there were other times when I was using that he caught me alone. At my grandparents’ farm, about a week ago, I had to go through it sober for the first time. He threatened my family, and he will kill me if he thinks I told.” Her voice was barely audible. “He said he’s killed before. When his daughter was found, I knew what had happened. Brittany must have threatened to tell on him.”
I gently helped her up. “He is killing you, Vicki. If Serena hadn’t pulled you out of that meth house, you could be dead right now. He’s pushed you back into using. He got you to abandon your daughter.”
“It’s hard to be sober when every day, I wonder, is it going to happen again today? And what’s with the forced anal sex? It felt like I was being ripped to shreds from the inside. This last time, he pushed my face so hard into the mud, I couldn’t breathe. I used to not care if he killed me. My life wasn’t tha
t important, until I was sober. But after last time, my thoughts went right back to that dark place, anyway.”
“This ends right now, Vicki. Give me the name, so I can stop him.”
Emotionally exhausted, Vicki spoke the name. “Al Brennan.”
“You’ve already survived the worst, so I know you’re resilient,” I told her. “You’re a lot more insightful than you give yourself credit for.” I’d never been much for hugging others, but this moment begged for it, so I reached out to her. She was stiff at first, but gradually began to surrender to the embrace. I told her, “Al’s a sadistic pig. I think he killed Mandy Baker doing the same thing he did to you. Help me get him out of our community.” I felt sadly incompetent for not finding another way to get her to divulge this information. “I’m sorry for taking you here. You didn’t deserve this.”
Vicki was trembling. She searched my face. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to take you home,” I said, keeping one arm around her and leading her toward the car. “And you’re going to get Hannah, and drive to the women’s shelter.” I kept talking. “Have you ever toured the Soudan mine in northern Minnesota?
Confused, Vicki shook her head. “No.”
“They take you down a half mile below the earth’s surface, and for a moment, they turn off the lights. It’s a darkness beyond imagination. I know a woman who works for Hands of Hope, who I swear could even find a ray of light there. She talked to Serena after she was assaulted. I’ll ask her to talk to you tonight at the shelter. I’ll call the police to make sure they keep an eye on the place, and I will do everything I can to get Al Brennan behind bars tonight. Can you promise me you’ll go there?”
Vicki nodded. “Yeah, okay. I don’t really have a choice now, do I? Now that I’ve talked.”
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