by Midge Bubany
“Who the hell would put glitter in a tub?” I asked.
“Not me!” Gina interjected. “I wouldn’t want glitter getting in my lady parts. No, it’s her spirit.”
I said, “Oh, for the love of God, Gina. Spirits don’t light candles, write in silver paint and throw glitter around.”
“How do you know?” Gina asked.
“The girl’s family could be doing this,” Magna said.
That was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. I shook my head. “The Dawsons are too involved in their own grief to play these silly games.”
Adriana said, “Really, Mom?”
“Who else knows the code?” I asked.
“Just Mom and Maddie . . . and Troy.”
Troy knows her code? I rolled my eyes. “You know Maddie well enough to count her out?”
“Yes, of course. She’d never do anything like this. Besides, she was with her parents all day.”
“Okay, well, I might be able to lift prints, so why don’t you all just wait in the living room and not touch anything. I’ll get someone out here to help me.”
Magna and Gina meandered away. Adriana remained.
“I called the security company. They’re installing cameras first thing tomorrow. They’ll program it so I can get photos of my house every hour, and motion will also trigger it to snap photos.”
“Good idea,” I said.
“I’m sorry to pull you away from your family tonight.”
“It’s my job. Did you ever think Gina might be just messing with you? She’s a little looney.”
She made a scoffing sound. “Of course not. She’s really spooked.”
“She is a spook,” I muttered as I grabbed my phone to call dispatch.
Thirty minutes later, Tamika arrived—with Patrice Clinton. This nuisance vandalism didn’t need the sheriff’s attention.
“I want you to do DNA testing,” Adriana demanded of Patrice.
“At this point, this isn’t serious enough to warrant the expense, but Tamika and Cal are documenting and taking fingerprints,” Patrice said.
Tamika helped me take photographs, bag glitter and paint samples, then we lifted fingerprints off doors, windows, candles, and the tub. Before she left, Patrice suggested to Adriana that she and her family come to the department tomorrow to have their fingerprints taken. I was hopeful the person responsible was stupid and left prints all over the place. When finished, I followed Patrice and Tamika out to the squad. It had stopped raining. The dank fishy odor of the lake and wet foliage instantly brought back memories of playing in and around Gull Lake as a child. And of Hank floating facedown.
“Who would know the code or be able get in without one?” Patrice asked. “And I’ll vouch for Lois Dodge. She’s cleaned our home for years and has impeccable credentials.”
“Cleaning ladies have credentials?” I asked.
“You know what I mean.”
“It could be the same person who lit the silver fabric on fire. It’s all too much of a coincidence,” I said.
“She told me Troy Kern and her neighbor are the only ones she’s given the code to, so how would anyone get in?” Patrice said.
Tamika said, “Anyone who entered at the same time as Adriana. They could watch her punch it in.”
I answered, “Good point. Does anyone else see our perpetrator as female? I mean with the candles, glitter, and shit?”
Tamika screwed up her face. “Not necessarily. My Anton puts out candles and flower petals when he wants to romance me.”
“Anton is masculine enough to show his feminine side,” I said, throwing her own line back at her.
“And I’m feminine enough to show my masculine side and tackle a redneck or three to the ground.” She chuckled.
Patrice seemed to ignore our comments. “Okay, what’s the motive here? Is it about Silver or is it about scaring Adriana?”
“Toss-up,” I said. “Adriana’s having her codes changed and cameras installed.”
“Good. Talk to Madison Mitchell and Lois. Ask if either saw or heard anything,” Patrice said.
“I will. By the way, Wesley Stillman’s brother, Byron, convinced me Wes was home from 8:45 p.m. on. He seems more normal than the rest of the family.”
“Wes is off your list?”
“Let’s say moved down. I’ll run the evidence in and see you two later,” I said.
“I’ll do it,” Patrice said. “You go home to your family.”
“Uh, okay, thanks.”
That was a surprise. Patrice’s micromanaging just made my job easier. But I wondered why she was so involved in vandalism of this level. They took off and as I started my ignition a thought occurred to me. I shut off the engine and walked around to look at Tino’s kennel. I was able to open the gate from the exterior, crawl through the doggy door and into another caged area in the garage. I opened the inside kennel gate, walked through the garage and into the kitchen, where I caught Gina sucking on a wine bottle behind the fridge door.
“What?” she said.
“Adriana!” I shouted.
She hurried around the corner and said, “What is it?”
I told her what I’d just done, and that the vandals probably did the same.
“Oh, my God. And Tino just probably wagged his tail.”
“They would still need to turn off the alarm, so someone knows the code.”
“I don’t know how, but I see your point.”
“What was your code?”
“My birthday.”
“Jesus Christ. Change the code and put a lock on the outside kennel gate ASAP.”
Shannon was reading in bed when I got home, waiting up to hear all about it.
“I think it’s kids trying to recreate a scary movie or something,” she said.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But then again, maybe it’s just a little too clever for kids.”
“Oh, let’s put it out of our heads. Come here, my weary soldier.”
“Are you whistling ‘Dixie’?”
She puckered up to whistle and I kissed her. After we made love, she snuggled in. We lay quietly for a time before I kissed her on the forehead and said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I patted her and she drew circles in my chest hair with her finger. “Um, I’ve been waiting to tell you something,” she said.
What the . . . ? “Waiting to tell me what?”
“I’m late.”
“Late?”
“My period is way overdue.”
I fought my urge to bolt out of bed. Instead, I asked calmly, “How much overdue?”
“Six weeks. You know I’m always twenty-eight days. I guess I lost track because I was so busy with the wedding and move.”
Lost track? Six weeks? Why hadn’t I noticed? Why hadn’t she noticed? Why hadn’t she told me before this? “Have you bought one of those pee-on-the-stick tests?”
“Not yet. Maybe tomorrow.”
“But you’ve been drinking.”
“I know. It scares me.”
I kissed her on the forehead and said, “Well, it’ll be okay. It’s all good, babe.”
Then I began to try to calculate when the baby would be born and how much my life—our lives—would change. I must have been more fatigued than I thought because the sound of her voice startled me out of a drowsy state.
“Would my being pregnant make you happy?”
My eyes snapped open. Big question. I had to answer this one right. “You bet. I love kids.” I kissed her and once again she snuggled in.
I do love kids, I thought. But I wasn’t expecting her to get pregnant the fricking second she went off the pill. Three kids? Oh, man. Oh, man. Oh, man. And who the hell
is screwing with Adriana?
Chapter 20
August 20
All was quiet in the Sheehan household when I took Bullet for a run before daylight. The cloud cover had dissipated and the full moon lit my way through Park South. Bullet had adapted nicely to running off leash. He ran ahead, stopped to sniff, then fell in stride when he noticed I pulled ahead of him.
I love this time of day when dawn creeps in, tinting the sky pink. As I ran I tried to concentrate on what I needed to ask Sawyer Gage’s pals, but Shannon and the need for a pregnancy test kept me distracting me. Oh, man.
While I was showering after my run, I sensed movement through the glass shower door. Shannon had come in to kneel in front of the toilet. Ohhh. Don’t really need the kit to tell us what her stomach just did. I quickly wrapped a towel around myself and stepped out. Now, I can deal with puking drunks from here to Sunday, but this morning, watching her puke made me gag. I thought of my former boss’s trick, which was to think about cleaning fish to get unwanted thoughts out of his mind. So while I sympathetically rubbed her back, I was filleting a walleye. When she finished, she flushed the toilet, and said, “Oh, boy.”
“Yeah, oh, boy.”
Her head pivoted to mine. She had an ugly, mean look I’d never seen before—as if this was my fault. She crawled back into bed. I dressed in silence then kissed her good-bye. Why was she mad at me? She was the one who wanted to go off the pill months before we actually wanted to conceive because it took “sooo long to get pregnant.” Wrong. Not so long. I must have good swimmers.
I was on Highway 10 just past Little Falls when my skin prickled. I had one of those “oh, the hell no” moments. I called Patrice and gave her my thoughts on who may have been responsible for Adriana’s vandalism.
“It could be her ex-stepdaughter, Victoria Lewis,” I told the sheriff. “She briefly worked as a reporter for the Birch County Register. She’s a master at manipulation, and she orchestrated several stunts against herself just to get the news story, filed false police reports, then when discovered, she took off before she could be charged. This is right up her alley.”
“Hmm. I remember the story. Quite an embarrassment for the department and the newspaper. You were personally involved with her, as I recall.”
“Unfortunately, yes. Long story you don’t want to hear.”
“Well, if she’s back in town, we can arrest her for making the false police report,” she said.
“Reports. There were several. But I’m afraid it won’t stick. Her daddy can hire kazillion-dollar lawyers.”
“Doesn’t mean we can’t try. You have the paperwork, correct?”
“Yeah, sure. So, have you heard what’s wrong with Troy?”
“Just a second . . . I wrote it down. Okay, it’s Cholecystitis—inflammation of the gallbladder. He’ll be in the hospital until it settles down and will eventually have to have surgery.”
“Sounds serious. Do they know how long he’ll be out?”
“He says two to three days, but his doctor says four. He wants to be back on this investigation in the worst way. Are you using Tamika to help you out? Besides last night, that is?”
“Yes, and Crosby too.”
“Good then. Now get it done.”
No pressure.
It was 8:55 a.m. when I arrived at the Perkins in Plymouth. There was one guy sitting on the bench in the waiting area. He looked like a devil with his dark eyebrows turning up on the ends, closely placed, dark, beady eyes, and a goatee.
“Kyle Nelson?” I asked.
He nodded. I introduced myself and showed him my badge. He actually grabbed it from my hands to read it. There’s a first for everything.
“You have a half-hour because I have a tee time,” he said.
Oh, really? How about I cuff you to my wrist just because I can?
He marched up to the hostess and looked up at her—he was five-foot-four at most—and demanded we be seated. Little prick. I showed her my badge and asked if we could be seated in an area where we could talk privately. Nelson rolled his eyes. She showed us to an empty section by the windows.
When we were alone he asked, “Did you have to do that? Show your badge?”
“Yeah, I kind of like doing it.”
“Figures. So what’s this about?”
“Silver Rae Dawson. We found her remains near Lake Emmaline?”
“I heard. It’s been in the news every day. So what’s it got to do with me?”
The waitress came and delivered water and menus. We looked at the menus and closed them. She noticed and was at our side.
“I’ll have one egg, toast, and orange juice,” he said.
I ordered the tremendous twelve: four pancakes, four pieces of bacon, three eggs, hash browns, and coffee.
Nelson’s mouth gaped in astonishment.
“May as well get started.” I unzipped my briefcase and pulled out my notebook and iPad. After I turned it on, I stated the identifying information.
He glared at me with beady little eyes. I believe he meant to intimidate me.
“Does that usually work for you?” I asked.
“What?”
“Acting like an asshole.”
He started to get up. I pulled out my cuffs. “Sit down.”
He did.
“How did you know Silver Rae Dawson?”
“I didn’t . . . know her well, anyway. She was a couple years younger.”
“But you knew her well enough to dance with her.”
“What?”
“You danced with her at a party at Tom Odegard’s cabin on the Fourth of July in 1996.”
“If you say so. I don’t recall.”
“Did you see Silver Rae Dawson the weekend she disappeared?”
“Why would I have?” He sounded like a punk kid—same smart-ass tone.
“You can lose the attitude.” I set the cuffs on the table. He sat back.
“No, I didn’t see her.”
“How did you find out she was missing?”
“Can I ask why you’re questioning me about this?”
“No. Just answer my questions.”
He sighed. “I don’t remember.”
“And what did you do that Saturday night?”
“I stayed home.”
“You weren’t with Sawyer Gage?”
“No, why? Did he say I was?”
“Did you help search for Silver Rae?”
“On Sunday. I walked cornfields like everybody else.”
“Let’s get back to the party where you danced with Silver.”
“I told you I don’t remember, but so what if I did?”
“Tell me about that day. Who you were with? What happened?”
“Hell, it was what? Sixteen years ago? I have only a vague memory of even going to the party.”
“I’m told she acted out of character that day.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“You ever see anyone slip anything into girls’ drinks?”
“You serious?”
I nodded.
“Of course not.” He exaggeratedly shook his head.
I wanted to push the corners of his eyebrows down—see if they’d stay there.
“Your crowd do drugs at the time?”
Nelson shrugged. “A little pot is all.”
“Did Sawyer Gage talk about Silver Rae?”
“I don’t remember who or what he talked about that long ago.”
It went on this way until our food came. By that time, I was pretty done with the asshole. I figured Nelson either didn’t know anything or wasn’t talking—and he didn’t stay to watch me finish my tremendous twelve. What an unlikable little prick.
I called Sha
nnon from the Perkins’s lot before I started driving home.
“How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better. Sorry I was crabby this morning. This pregnancy is a big surprise.”
“Hey, I like big surprises,” I said. “This is all good.”
“Cal, thank you for saying that.”
“I mean it.” My tremendous twelve threatened to make a reappearance.
“It took me a year to get pregnant with both boys. I can’t believe it happened this fast.”
“I’m pretty virile, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed.”
“Are you going to buy one of those kits today.”
“If I have time.”
“It’d be nice to know for sure.”
“I know.” Shannon changed the subject. “Patrice said you thought Victoria might be responsible for the vandalism. ”
“Just a thought.”
“She asked Adriana to get hold of her ex-husband. She told her you’d be in touch with her.”
“Nuts.”
“Why ‘nuts’?”
“I dislike dealing with her.”
“Well, buck up. It’s your job.”
So, I dialed her number. “Adriana, it’s Cal.”
“I know your voice.”
“Sheriff Clinton wanted me to contact you.”
“Yes. I just talked to Adam. His secretary wasn’t going to put me through, but I was in no mood to be messed with.”
“I know that mood.”
“Ha, ha. Anyway, he wasn’t very nice. He wants the Beemer back. He said his attorney would be in touch with my attorney.”
“Screw him. The law is on your side.”
“No, it’s not. Adam gave it to me before we got married. It’s in his name, and he’s still paying the insurance. The ring, however, is a wedding gift and I can keep it. Oh, I can’t wait until this is all settled. He said it’d be an easy divorce but he’s the one being difficult. This should have been over months ago.”
Not my circus, not my monkeys. “Adriana, I was calling about Victoria.”
“Oh, right. Well, Adam insists she’s still out of the country.”