33
CULHWCH
7:40 P.M. WEDNESDAY, JULY 12,
BROOKLYN CENTER
UPON ARRIVING AT THE EMBASSY SUITES, I called the desk for Ava Mayer’s room number. I managed to get it by claiming to be a police officer. I used the steps to make my way up to her room. The steps provided a warning that you may encounter someone. With gun in the back of my pants, and ether in pocket, I’m ready to roll. I open the door to the hallway, just a fraction to make certain the coast is clear. And there stands Jon Frederick holding a door partially open, peering into a room …
34
JON FREDERICK
7:41 P.M. WEDNESDAY, JULY 12,
BROOKLYN CENTER
ZEKE ABBAS ARRIVED AT MY SIDE to assist me. I motioned him to walk down the hall with me, out of Ava’s earshot. I told him quietly that Ava had brought a gun to the hotel, and Clay boldly came here and talked her down. Zeke agreed the situation was now under control, so he left. I called Angela Mayer, and she agreed to come and pick up her daughter.
AFTER AVA HAD DEPARTED with her mother, Clay and I stood in the hotel parking lot.
I turned on Clay, “What the hell just happened? Do you have a death wish?”
Clay looked away, more shaken than he was going to admit. “Probably. She called me and told me she had a gun. I decided it was time for me to start taking responsibility for my behavior. I knew she was a mess when I slept with her, but I did it anyway. I didn’t want some cop shot trying to talk her down.” He met my eyes and nodded, “This one was on me.”
I squeezed his shoulder. “I hate to compliment you, but you were pretty damn impressive.”
“What you should do is buy me a beer,” he awkwardly tapped my hand on his shoulder, then casually shrugged it off. “Staring down the wrong end of a gun makes a man thirsty.”
I smiled. “I’m not sure what I should do anymore, but I’m trying to figure it out. Serena stopped by and she’s still there, so I need to head home.”
I advised Clay, “I think you should go visit Maddy. You had the guts to tell Ava you care about Maddy. Maybe you should tell Maddy that.”
Clay looked a bit more scared than when he had a gun pointed at him. “That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes.” I met his eyes and tried to will strength his way. I felt a stirring of hope that he was finally growing up.
Clay gazed into the distance. “How come that occurred to you so naturally, and it never occurred to me?”
“I think it did. You just prefer to take the easiest route.”
Clay threw me his million-dollar grin and said, “Another time, then.” He slid into his borrowed car and tore out of the parking lot. As I watched after him, I had no idea if he was going to see Maddy.
3:00 A.M., THURSDAY, JUNE 13,
MINNEAPOLIS
SERENA AND I HAD A NIGHT of honest sharing, which vacillated between being uncomfortable to painful, but there wasn’t any arguing—just disappointed sighs and acceptance. I massaged her feet, and we slept in the same bed. In the middle of the night, I woke to Serena crying. I put my arm around and her and asked, “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head, indicating she didn’t want to talk about it, and then slid over to me and I cradled her into my chest.
I whispered as I smoothed her hair away from her face, “It’s going to be okay.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but it felt like the right thing to say. Maybe sometimes it’s more important to give someone hope than to waste time trying to figure out if there is any.
35
SERENA
3:10 A.M., THURSDAY, JULY 13,
MINNEAPOLIS
WHILE LYING IN BED, I thought I heard someone in Jon’s home, so I gathered my courage and went to check it out. I’m better now. I can do this. There stood Clay Roberts, his tight pecs bulging through a white muscle shirt.
Swiping back a shock of streaked hair, he said maliciously, “I know exactly what you are. I’m the one person you will never fool.”
I felt naked in my thin t-shirt and underwear, yet I was inexplicably rooted to the floor.
Clay approached me and, without a word between us, began touching me. As I stood silently being groped, I was ashamed, embarrassed, and aroused all at the same time.
I woke up lying with my head on his chest, angry I’d ruined everything—and for what? Okay. Take a deep breath and pull it together. As I separated from him, I realized I was lying next to Jon. Clay had been just a dream or, rather, a nightmare. I sighed in relief and snuggled back against Jon. I’d learned I couldn’t be responsible for my dreams. They emerged from my torments and shame. But I was accountable for my actions when awake.
As I ran my hand down Jon’s strong body, I realized he was thinner than he should have been. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was soon replaced with an intense, loving arousal. He responded and I removed my shirt …
THERAPY ALLOWED ME to forgive myself for my own bad choices, and to stop blaming Jon for not protecting me. The edges of those jagged pieces of ice in my head that caused so much pain had been melted and smoothed. I would never forget what happened, but it would never bother me as it did, again. I was a protective parent, and I had an almost raw appreciation of those who had stuck by me. The possibility that I might not be able to salvage what Jon and I once shared was devastating. I’d received help from so many different sources. One of my most powerful experiences occurred when I saw an eight-year-old girl who had been a victim like myself—she was laughing and enjoying a game with a friend. If she could do it, why couldn’t I?
SERENA BELL
5:30 P.M., FRIDAY, JULY 14, 2017,
COUNTRY MANOR IN SARTELL
NEEDING SOME GUIDANCE, I stopped to talk to Tony Shileto after work. With his unexpected free time and personal struggles over his disability, Tony had recently resumed religious involvement. I wasn’t sure how he was going to handle my news. It was a pleasant, warm summer evening, so I wheeled Tony onto the lush, green lawns. He was slowly looking healthier, but his hair held a little more gray. I relaxed in a chair next to him and kicked off my shoes to enjoy the warm grass beneath my bare feet. A cool breeze brought with it the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass, and added to the peaceful serenity of the moment.
Tony eased into the conversation with a sardonic smile. “So, you want some relationship advice from a man who hasn’t been on a date in years.” With a low chuckle, he put a hand to his chest. “I’m sure I, alone, hold the secrets to eternal love.”
His face was open and trustworthy and I felt a sense of relief simply being in his presence. I briefly recalled a very different, harder Tony, when I first met him. His injury seemed to have softened his demeanor in a way that had allowed us to become very close friends.
Knowing he had heard just about everything, I didn’t sugarcoat my dilemma. “I haven’t told anyone this, and I’m going to trust your confidence.” Still, I took my time with it, watching the green shoots of grass spring back into place when I ran my feet across the lawn below me. “I’m pregnant again and will be showing, soon. You know Jon and I aren’t even engaged, anymore.” I didn’t look at him right away, knowing I couldn’t bear to see disappointment flicker through his eyes.
Tony momentarily took my hand, and held it gently until I looked up at him. “I can top that. I’m an investigator who gets sores on his body from sitting in bed too long. Honestly, Serena, another person like you in the world can only be a good thing—congratulations!”
Tony was positively beaming, and for the first time, my angst over the situation was threatened by hope. It was such a relief to have unloaded my burden. I felt a visceral weightlessness. I especially appreciated his not going all fire and brimstone on me.
He asked, “Is Jon the father?”
“Yes. I ended the engagement, but we didn’t stop—” I just left it at that, then continued. “I want to marry him, but after months of telling him I needed to be alone, I may have lost him. He’s ki
nd to me, but I feel like I irritate him. He doesn’t love me like he did.” I looked away as Tony patted my hand then carefully folded his hands together, as if in prayer. “The last time I stopped over, Jada Anderson had spent the night, and she’s pretty tough to compete with.”
He looked at me wearily, obviously disappointed in Jon.
I defended him. “I had told him I was seeing another man.”
Tony gazed out at the long open yard as he shared, “There’s a philosophical notion called the Thomas Theorum, which states situations perceived as real become real in their consequences. It means, for example, if you believe you’ve lost Jon, you won’t make the effort needed to reconcile. On the other hand, if you believe you can change his heart, and risk showing him the change in yours, you could make it work.” He turned to me and added, “Remember, there’s a reason Jada is an ex.” As he grew more serious, the lines of age deepened around his pained expression. He shared, “Resentment isn’t going to change his heart, just yours.”
I expelled a long breath. “I’ll work on that. I promise.”
Tony recited solemnly, “To paraphrase Corinthians thirteen, love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy. It is not proud. It keeps no record of wrongs. It always trusts, always hopes and always perseveres.”
His words were soothing. I told him, “I’ll try to make this my mantra.”
Tony gestured toward my hand, “You’re wearing your engagement ring.”
“I want to ask him to marry me, but I want our marriage to be separate from my pregnancy.” I extended my fingers and looked at the ring, a longing tugging at my heart. “I’m not going to tell Jon I’m pregnant until after he gives me an answer.” It was not lost on me that I was once again in the same situation as when I became pregnant with Nora.
He remarked, “I’d use all the weapons I had available, and you’ve got a powerful one. Why shouldn’t your pregnancy be part of his decision?”
“I want to know I can still capture his heart, rather than chase him into my home.” I gave Tony a sad smile.
Tony spoke carefully, “I’ve been down this road. Too proud to share my feelings, I waited for her to come to me—she didn’t. I still wonder what would have happened if I would’ve just opened up to her.” He paused, lost in his regret for a moment, then continued, “I’m sure you were afraid on your first day of school. And I imagine you were afraid at your first ballet performance, and high school softball game. I’d bet you were afraid at your first day of work, and when you left for college.”
He continued, “And now you’re afraid of dying and afraid of marriage. You assume every situation will end badly because you see the risk but not the reward. I’ve been told that, above all things, God is kind. I need you to remember this,” and he added dryly, “because I’m not always going to be in the mood to remind you. Every great relationship goes through tragedy, but, through it, you can achieve a resilient strength you didn’t have before. You want to marry him, so tell him. His response is on him.”
Needles of threatening tears prickled behind my eyes as he spoke, and with a shaky smile, I said, “You make it sound so easy.” I considered the fact that a man who had lost everything was helping me.
Reading my mind, he smiled and said, “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience. This broken body of mine isn’t who I am, and that broken heart of yours isn’t who you are. Stop running from him and honestly tell him how you feel, and you’ll be fine.”
8:30 P.M., FRIDAY, JULY 14,
PIERZ
I FELT BETTER AFTER TALKING WITH TONY. I stopped at Coborn’s and picked up some groceries, then drove to Bill and Camille’s farmhouse to pick Nora up. Jon’s parents returned from Sue’s Drive-In with my little Nora, who was now wearing half her ice cream but tickled pink over her successful adventure. Bill started a campfire in the backyard, and we were joined around the fire by Victor and Yesonia, and Jon’s older sister, Theresa.
Nora was tired and being entertainingly goofy from her sugar high. Theresa and Bill enjoyed a cold beer while the rest of us sipped various sodas. I loved this family. While I wasn’t as close to Theresa, my mom had shared that Theresa vigorously defended me, even after my separation from Jon, when gossip arose in the small town.
Theresa was built like her brother—strong and thin, and not only dressed like Bill, wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, but also had some of his reckless abandon. There were always stories of Theresa when we were younger, like she was skinny dipping with a boy at Fish Lake, or making out with a guy right outside the Silver Bullet Bar in Genola, or was seen walking off the golf course with a boy late at night. Some of the stories were impossible, like the one where she and a boy were seen diving naked into the river at Pierz Park on an October night and then made love standing in water up to their necks. First of all, the dam boards were pulled in September, so the river was only two feet high, and second, the river water was so cold in October a guy would have to be dead and in a state of rigor mortis to maintain an erection.
Of course, none of the stories came from a direct eye witness, and instead originated from an alleged reliable source that preferred to remain unnamed.
When I was a God-fearing eighth-grade girl, I had volunteered to help the Fredericks set up for Theresa’s outdoor wedding on their farm. I grew up only a mile down the road and already had a crush on Jon. I’ll never forget when I was helping Theresa string lights, how she turned to me and said, “You know those stories you hear about me all over town?” Before I could tell her I didn’t believe them, she laughed and said, “They’re all true!” I had respect for her ability to disregard the gossip. We all need stories to laugh at, but I disliked it when the theme of the story was that we were somehow better than she was. I once asked Jon if the stories bothered him, and he said, “Yes, but consider this. Remember how pious my mom was when we were growing up? Camille and Theresa battled through Theresa’s adolescence, so it’s certainly possible that Theresa herself was the original source of some of those stories. Nothing could have infuriated my mom more.”
Nora was tired, so I took her from Camille, while Nora pled with Bill, “Pa, it’s not time for me to go to bed.”
As I stood with Nora, with everyone’s attention now focused on us, I told them, “I appreciate every one of you for always being so kind to me. I’m sorry I ever left Jon.”
Theresa toasted her can of beer my way and humorously added, “So, you’re thinking now, wherever Jon is, it’s got to be better than here with the rest of us.”
Bill replied, “Jon told us that if it doesn’t work, we can only blame him, because you’re the kindest person he’s ever met.”
It was just like Jon to take responsibility for everything—a man who saw it as his job to make the world better. I remembered him jacking Clay up once by telling him, “When you bitch about society, remember you and me, we’re society. If you want it to be better then be better.”
36
JON FREDERICK
8:35 P.M., FRIDAY, JULY 14, COUNTRY MANOR, SARTELL
ISAT WITH TONY IN HIS DRAB ROOM at Country Manor. Despite encouragement from the compassionate nursing aides, Tony had refused dinner. He sat staring out the window in a white t-shirt with an orange stain of something down the front. Without looking in my direction, he complained, “Do you know what it’s like to have a desert-dry mouth, and have your beverage sitting inches beyond your reach? The aides are nice, but I’m as helpless as an infant with no hope of getting better.”
I didn’t respond, because my empathy would have only agitated him. Looking around for somewhere to sit, I put myself into Tony’s vacant wheelchair and scooted close to his bed. Something was bothering him. Silence was often the best way to get people talking, so I simply waited.
Finally, he sighed, “In the last couple hours I came to a depressing realization. You’ve given up on Serena. You wouldn’t have allowed Jada to spend the night until you had abandone
d hope.”
I looked at him in surprise, wondering how he’d known about Jada. He quickly explained, “Serena and I are friends. She tells me things.”
I finally nodded. “Serena was seeing another guy. Now, she says they’re through. I never thought I’d say this, but it has stopped mattering. What’s unfolded can never fold back. I’m just empty. She has stopped telling me, ‘This doesn’t change anything,’ before she leaves, but those comments just wore me down.”
“I think Serena intended to mean she still needed time, and you took her words to mean you’re not good enough. Look—who the hell am I to give anyone advice, right? I know you’re close to being filled with contempt for her,” Tony acknowledged. “I’ve been down that road. I’m just asking you not to tear into her if—she asks you to marry her.”
Shocked, I said, “Like that’s going to happen.”
“It’s true.” Tony raised his hand as if taking an oath on the stand.
I considered, “Serena does want me staying at my home, with her and Nora, when I’m in Pierz.”
Tony interrupted, “Do you know Serena works as an administrative assistant just down the road from here? She checks in on me twice a week. She’s got me into a routine and reading the Bible. There’s a grace about her that makes me want to be better. You need to understand that, as painful as her past choices were, they were made out of a need for self-preservation, not malice. I know you’re not in the same place anymore, but she’s still a sweetheart. All I ask is that you keep an open heart.”
With my love for Serena in a precarious state, dangerously close to descending into nothingness, I spoke of the case. “My supervisor’s implying I’m incompetent, because I have nothing on three murders, and I’ve been shot at twice.”
The I-94 Murders Page 20