I shook my head. “Jada, I’m moving to Pierz, so I can be close to Nora. I’ll take whatever work I can find.” Sadly, I literally and figuratively pulled away from Jada in that moment, knowing there was no resolving the differences in us that were so absolute and inflexible.
“I shouldn’t have come here tonight.” Jada inhaled deeply through her nose and abruptly stood up. She said, not without anger, “Just like that, we’re over.” She snapped her fingers close to my face, her lovely features becoming hard. “You know how many dates I’ve turned down in the last couple months—thinking we might get back together?”
Chastised, I nodded, “I would imagine many.”
Jada quipped, “None.” She smiled, effectively keeping me off balance. “Okay–many.” She spread her hands in surrender, then said gently, “Jon, you can’t keep your life on hold waiting for Serena to make up her mind.”
“I’m not waiting—this is my life.” I tried to explain. “I’m a single dad working every minute I’m not with my daughter, so I can survive and support her in every way possible. It’s not what I wanted, but it’s what my life has become.”
I scratched my forehead, replaying recent events in my mind like fast-forwarding through a movie. “There was nothing wrong with my taking the side job for the Mayers, but I should have told Maurice Strock before I accepted the lead investigator role. Now I can’t get out of it, because Maddy’s out, and it’s exactly what the killer wants.” I leaned heavily back into the couch, my frustration momentarily overwhelming me.
Jada said, “Let’s finish this. I can accept that we’re over, if I have to. Are you good working with me yet?”
“I have no problem with it. We’re still just two people who used to have a relationship.”
Jada wasn’t happy, but she resolutely nodded and stood to leave, and I stood with her. We hugged at the door, and Jada clung a little, whispering, “We can still be pretty damn good, can’t we?”
I nodded, knowing any words would fall short. I thanked her for her caring support over the last few months, then wordlessly walked her to her car.
29
JON FREDERICK
9:00 A.M., TUESDAY, JULY 11,
FAIRVIEW HOSPITAL, MINNEAPOLIS
MADDY SAT PRIM AND PROPER, fingers laced and locked in her hospital bed, anxious for her possible release at the end of the day. She was still in her pale-blue hospital gown, with a big white bandage covering the wound on her neck, but she had showered and put on some makeup. Her street clothes were folded neatly on a chair near the bed, shoes under the chair, ready to be thrown on the moment she got word she could go. She wouldn’t be back to work soon, but she had healed enough so she could go home. The bullet had passed through her neck without significant damage. Her doctor said it wasn’t the first time he’d seen this, but she was still incredibly lucky.
I settled into the chair next to her bed, and she took my hand, “Thank you for saving my life. If you wouldn’t have gotten me to the hospital as fast as you did, I wouldn’t have made it. Aiming the flashlight at the shooter was ingenious.”
I smiled. “I have my moments.”
“I’m done being mad at you,” she said with finality, and punctuated it with a shake of our enfolded hands before she let go.
“Now,” she continued, “I want to talk about the case, but I’m not coming back anytime soon.”
“In the past week, I’ve been to the top thirty industries in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area with Ava, including Toro, Hormel, 3M, General Mills, Land O’ Lakes, Ecolab, Valspar, and a couple dozen others. She still hasn’t recognized that smell.”
“Lying here day and night has given me a lot of time to think about this.” Maddy added cautiously, “This could be a woman in a relationship with someone in law enforcement.”
She meant Jada Anderson but didn’t want to say it. The coincidence of Jada just happening by as I was walking home Saturday night wormed its way into my thought process. But it couldn’t be Jada. El? I dismissed this and interjected, “Or maybe he just watches a lot of investigative shows. Definitely accesses porn.”
Maddy agreed. “Yeah, that’s how you find BDSM couples. And Ava claims they met on the Backpages of Craigslist—a sex trafficking site.”
Maddy glanced over at me and said carefully, “Even when I want to clear Ava, I’m never able to, Jon. She doesn’t have an alibi—I called her bodyguards. She eluded them two hours before Bo Gere’s murder and didn’t come home until the next morning. Nobody but Ava has seen her attacker, and she can’t identify him—she’s not even sure of her attacker’s gender.”
I told her, “There were no prints, other than Yesonia’s and the victim’s, at the last scene. Leah’s ex claimed they had an argument. She left and went to the bar. The story fits, but it doesn’t take a lot of time to kill someone, so I haven’t completely ruled him out. There’s DNA we’re testing. We don’t have the bullet that went through my car window to match to the murder victims.” I sighed in frustration. “We couldn’t find it. My best guess is, somehow, it got embedded in the car I met. The owner may not even know it.” I needed to find out where Ava was when Bo was killed.
8:30 P.M., TUESDAY, JULY 11,
EDINA
CLAY ROBERTS INVITED ME into his medieval-looking home, which featured dark woods and rustic metal ornaments. We sat at his square, African walnut kitchen table. Clay was barefoot and his hair was in disarray. His t-shirt and jeans looked rumpled and hastily thrown on.
Somewhat irritated, Clay asked, “What do you need?”
“I need to know who you were with on Thursday night, June 22.”
“Good luck.” Clay glanced surreptitiously toward his bedroom, then snarled. “Let’s see, where did I file those bar receipts?”
I followed his glance with a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Ava Mayer doesn’t have an alibi for the night Bo Gere was killed.”
As if on cue, Ava came strutting out of the bedroom in a gold, oversized Minnesota Gophers jersey, bare-legged and barefoot. Her hair was a tangled mess. She remarked, “I’ve decided to stop being mean to Maddy. So why tell her I was with Clay? He is sort of my bodyguard.”
She crawled possessively into his lap and passionately kissed Clay. I watched them blandly, suspecting Ava’s shameless display was as much for my benefit as Clay’s.
Clay patted Ava on the bottom and casually said, “Get dressed. I need to take you home.”
“Boooo,” Ava protested, but she ventured back to the bedroom.
Clay’s smile disappeared the minute Ava was out of sight, and he seriously addressed me in a lowered voice, “You can’t tell Maddy. I like Maddy. I swear, this was my last time with Ava. Maddy is someone I could develop a long-term relationship with.”
I knew the answer, but asked anyway, “If you feel that way, then what’s Ava doing here?”
“It’s always been the same. You need a reason to have sex. I just need a place,” he said impishly, always reminding me of the kid living inside his grown-man’s body. “Maddy’s family keeps dropping by at the hospital, so it’s weird for me to be around her now. I don’t know how to be around family.”
“Learn.” I reminded him, “Maddy’s a mother. You know what it’s like to have a mother who’s messed up by a guy.”
Clay didn’t argue. “Yeah.” He glanced back toward his bedroom. “I’m getting sick of my life. I want something real.”
“Then you need to stop playing. I’m not going to lie for you to Maddy, but I’m not going out of my way to tell her, either. Just get this mess cleaned up.” I left him at his table, lost in his internal conflicts.
30
JON FREDERICK
6:30 P.M., WEDNESDAY, JULY 12,
MINNEAPOLIS
SERENA WAS STIRRING A POT of jambalaya when I returned home. I quickly registered that she was wearing her engagement ring but said nothing. Baffled by the unexpected sight of her in my kitchen, I asked, “What are you doing?”
Her response w
as timid, “Please hear me out. I need a night to talk this through—c’mon, Jon—you’ve got nothing to lose.” When I didn’t respond, she teased, “Maybe it’s only a moment—maybe the time of your life. Since money’s tight, I thought I’d just come here.”
The aroma of Old Bay seasoning, shrimp, Thielen’s andouille sausage, fried peppers and onions, was tantalizing. Serena made an amazing jambalaya. I approached for a glimpse, and she gave me that sweet smile. Trying to resist, I painfully commented, “I thought you were seeing someone.”
A shameful sadness washed over her, and she busied herself over the pot. She sipped from an oversized spoon to test her roux, then glanced at me and said, “I’m not. I ended it.” After a pause, she wiped her hands on a nearby towel and finally met my eyes. “I don’t even know what that was, other than a mistake. I’m so sorry.”
I know I should have said something in response, but I was drawing a blank. I didn’t know what she needed from me in that moment, so I opted not to speak at all.
She misinterpreted my silence, “So are you with Jada now?”
I softly said, “No.” I wanted to touch her, but still feeling some resentment, and now guilt, I didn’t. Conceding made me feel so weak—it was easier to just be angry. I had spoken to a therapist at CORE in Sartell during my time off, who advised, “Your partner never comes back from a separation full of remorse for having hurt you. A lot of rationalizations go into a separation, and they only slowly dissipate when you offer compassionate forgiveness.”
Serena’s big green eyes seemed to skewer through me. She switched gears, “There’s something else we need to talk about,” she said in a grave tone. “I think I was drawn into your case.”
“My current case?” I was off balance already, and this was unexpected.
She gently pressed her hand to the small of my back, and guided me to the kitchen table where we sat down. “Before I left, I thought I was going crazy. I kept hearing this creepy voice whisper my name, from my laptop. Sometimes a picture of Alban Brennan would flash on the screen out of nowhere.”
My heart constricted, thinking how frightening that had to have been for her. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”
“I couldn’t ask you to stop working and stay home to take care of me—which is exactly what you would’ve done. I was recovering from postpartum depression, and I was afraid if you spent any more time around me, you wouldn’t trust me with Nora. I knew I needed help, and my mom’s as good as anybody can be with Nora.”
She looked at me evenly, waiting for me to contradict her concerns. When I didn’t, she continued, “I’ve since discovered that my thyroid was underactive, which contributed to my depression and lethargy—so I’ll likely be on levothyroxine for the rest of my life. But it wasn’t just one thing. I needed counseling and I received it. When I went off the grid, it all slowly went away. I stopped feeling crazy. Now that Sonia has been telling me about this killer hacker, I’m wondering if some of this was part of his game.”
If Serena would have asked me to stay home, I wouldn’t be on this case. This could have been the killer’s intention from the very beginning.
My phone’s ringing seemed unnecessarily loud in the silence that had had fallen between us. When I answered, Marcus Mayer barked, “Ava’s disappeared. And she has my brand new forty-five with her …”
31
CULHWCH
7:05 P.M., WEDNESDAY, JULY 12,
MINNEAPOLIS
AVA MAYER IS BACK ON THE GRID. It almost makes me giddy, and I have to keep my emotions in check so I don’t overreact. Snapchat places Ava at the Embassy Suites on Earle Browne Drive, in Brooklyn Center. I start on my way to Minneapolis, to pick up my killing clothes. I store them in a locker at the Heritage Facility in the Warehouse District. Do I risk going to her room, or is this a setup? It has to be a setup.
Women with Ava and Leah’s beauty are pure eye candy. Maddy looks pretty damn good, too. And still, they need me to save them. Ava allowed a man to tie her to posts. Leah allowed a man to abuse her. Maddy Moore was seduced by a supervisor to betray her marriage. She has now ended the affair, though—I didn’t want Maddy to die. I just wanted to get Jon Frederick off the case. I thought maybe by scaring Serena a little, he’d step back and take care of his family. Instead, he’s spending day and night on the damn case.
I’d like to find out who pulled him into this case. To Layla Boyd’s credit, she left Asher and didn’t come to save him, so we’re done. As far as Nina Cole goes, I could have walked into the house and had sex with her with no ether, and she was so strung out she wouldn’t have known. That lesson may prove worthless for Nina, but to the world’s benefit, Bo is gone, and I’m stocked with ammo. Leah Hartman couldn’t be saved, but I have hope for Ava. She keeps jumping in and out of her safety net. I will have her yet …
32
JON FREDERICK
7:25 P.M., WEDNESDAY, JULY 12,
BROOKLYN CENTER
IPULLED AVA’S LOCATION UP on Snapchat and headed to the Embassy Suites. She didn’t answer my calls, but I spotted her Infrared sport Lexus in the parking lot. After considering Maddy’s past accusations of my involvement with Ava, I decided it was best if I didn’t enter this hotel alone, so I called for backup and waited in the parking lot. The only parking spots open, other than the handicapped ones, were in a lot fifty yards to the side of the hotel.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clay Roberts follow a hotel guest through a side door. I yelled, “Clay!” He ignored me, and I swore.
Forgetting about my backup request, I ran toward the hotel. I then realized Clay had driven a car other than his own. He must have known Ava might have law enforcement tailing her. Clay had pulled up and parked illegally next to a side door. By the time I reached the hotel door, it was locked, and there wasn’t another guest close by to unlock it. I ran to the main entry and found out which room Ava was staying in. I hurried up the steps to her room on the second floor, praying I wouldn’t hear gunshots. When I arrived outside of her room, I paused before entering. The door was propped open, so I stepped close and listened.
Ava was shrieking at Clay, “You can’t go back to Maddy!”
Clay responded cautiously. “Do you mind if I sit on the edge of the bed? I just came from work and I’m tired.” I knew Clay well enough to detect fear in his tone, but he was masking it well.
Ava’s voice was shaky, bordering on hysteria. “I’m not putting the gun down.”
I removed my gun from the shoulder holster under my shirt and took it off safety.
Clay calmly said, “I don’t care. I’m just tired.”
“Maddy’s old enough to be your mom,” Ava spat. “That’s just gross.”
Clay said wearily, “She takes better care of her body than I do mine. She’s fifteen years older than me. I’m ten years older than you. So, we’re about the same. Look—you’re where I’ve been for a decade, and I’m tired of that life. I’m tired of the attention, the bars, and the hangovers. I’m just tired.”
Ava’s tone softened a bit, “Maybe we want the same thing.”
My hand tightened uncertainly on the door handle, as I anticipated the proper moment to enter.
Clay countered, “Maybe. But I’m not the one who’s going to get you there. I need someone who’s already there. Is that selfish? Probably.”
Ava dramatically expressed, “Men hate me.”
She wasn’t going to out self-pity Clay. He responded, “Yeah, they hate me too—probably more. And my family’s like cactus—all pricks.” I relaxed a bit. Clay might just have this under control.
“What does Maddy have that I don’t?” Ava’s voice ratcheted back up toward shrill, and I tensed again.
I heard Clay’s simple response. “Stability.”
Ava reminded him, “You better be nice to me. I could blow your brains out! Everyone thinks I killed Alan. Why wouldn’t I kill you?” Uncertain where this was headed, I was ready to spring.
Clay took his time b
efore responding. “Let’s just summarize what we got here. You’re beautiful and you’re smart. I drink too much and am generally unfaithful. You’re going to shoot me and spend the rest of your life dating those pock-marked meth heads in prison? Is that what you’re going for, here?”
The silence that followed seemed endless. Ava finally said, “Okay. Here—shoot me.”
She must have handed Clay the gun. I readied myself to intervene. I quietly opened the door further. I couldn’t see Ava’s face, but I could see she was wearing a sheer black dress with a slit up the side that went all the way to Canada. I gratefully watched Clay unload the Colt 45. He threw the bullets toward the garbage can. Two of them clacked into the plastic lining the can. The others landed on the carpet nearby. Protocol would have had me march in and cuff Ava, but Clay was handling this well. I wanted to give him the opportunity to end this properly.
Clay shook his head sadly, “No one’s getting shot today, Ava. You’re twenty years old. If you’re like me, you have another decade to mess up before you consider making the right decisions. If you’re like Jon, you’d be considering them right now.”
Clay’s statement made it clear he was aware of my presence. I remained out of Ava’s sight.
Clay continued, “You could kick the whole bag of us all day and never kick the wrong one. Jon’s in love with Serena, but she just wants to punish him because she’s not happy. You act like you’re in love with me, and somehow you’ve turned that into a need to punish me. Maddy’s in love with an ex she pretends to hate, who’s now in love with his new wife. And I’m in love with whoever’s behind door number three. So if shooting me can resolve all that, you can have the gun back.”
Apparently struggling with a response Ava yelled, “Dammit! I can’t do anything right. If that guy who raped me would have showed up, I would have dropped him! Instead, I’m just pathetic.” After a minute she whimpered to Clay, “Well, don’t just sit there like a dumbass. Hug me.” I watched Clay open his arms in resignation.
The I-94 Murders Page 19