by Mary Logue
Claire stood up and put her arms around the shaking woman. Then she pulled Sherri in tight, trying to hold her together. The wailing sound in her ears tore at her.
“You’re okay. It’s going to be okay,” Claire said, even though she knew she was lying.
CHAPTER 19
5 January: 8:45 am
A punk weapon,” Jed Bartholomew said, rolling a small shell casing around in his gloved hand. “Usually used for squirrel hunting and even then you have to be pretty handy. I tell you it’s really a fluke this guy died from it. Either the shooter was just plain lucky or a hell of a shot.”
“Or both,” Claire said. “This isn’t going to help us locate the killer given how common a shotgun is.”
“Yup, you can say that again,” Jed said smacking his lips together. An arms specialist from the crime bureau, he was within moments of retirement. Claire had been surprised and very happy to see him arrive at the scene. As far as she was concerned, he was one of the best in his field. “I’d be surprised if there isn’t one of those shotguns in just about every farmhouse from here to Durand. Not worth much either. So whoever used it will probably just dump it. No great loss.”
“You’re a bundle of optimism this morning.”
“Morning?” Jed looked out the back of the house. “So it is.”
As he talked, Claire had been watching the first glow of the sun tinge the snow on the horizon. It would still be another hour or so before the sun crested the land, but it was already lighter out.
“The wife seems pretty distressed.” He spoke more softly, even though they had finally persuaded Sherri to retire to the bedroom. “You don’t think she had anything to do with this?”
“Doesn’t look like it. From what I can see of the marks in the driveway and the position of the body, it happened the way she said it did. I think, even though they had had their problems, she loved him. Plus, she’s a city gal. I’d be surprised if she knows how to shoot a gun.” Claire felt a tug at her heart, remembering Sherri’s sobbing. “But, you know, she was there. Her husband was killed right in front of her eyes. That can get to you.”
“You did a good job at this crime scene, routing everyone in through the bottom door, cordoning off the whole driveway,” he said as he bagged the bullet casing and marked it.
“Thanks. I didn’t want anyone to plow into the tire marks. Yeah, now if that blasted print examiner would just get here.”
“Don’t be in such a hurry. Nothing’s going to melt in this cold. Plus, you need to have pictures taken before he gets to work.”
“As soon as the sun’s up, that’s going to happen. Jerry’s been working on it but he’s having problems with the camera freezing up.”
Jed slapped his hands together. “Nothing like doing an outdoor crime scene in below zero weather, is there?”
Claire stared at the spot where the sun would emerge from the land. Any minute now. She desperately needed more coffee.
8:50 am
“If in doubt, shoot it,” Amy told Jerry after he had asked her what she wanted photos of. “You know Claire, she goes for overkill. We won’t have a second chance with these prints.”
“Freaking cold.” Jerry asked, “Have they made more coffee? I’m freezing out here.”
“You’re not alone. Get those tire tracks over by the snowbank and I think that’s it. Unless you see any others.”
As she watched him set up for the last few photo shots, she stomped her feet and thought of John, probably still sleeping in her bed. They had stayed up awful late. What she wouldn’t give to be lying next to him.
Besides being cold, there was another reason Amy couldn’t wait for Jerry to finish. She wanted to watch Ted Lawson, the print examiner, take the castings of the tires and foot prints. She had heard he was one of the best in the field. The longer she worked in law enforcement, the more interested she was in the forensics aspects. She was even seriously considering going back to school to get a degree.
When Jerry finished, they both went in the house to warm up. Someone had raided the kitchen and made some coffee. Black and gritty, just the way she liked it. A shot of pure caffeine would keep her on her feet for a few more hours.
Amy found Lawson out in the garage, setting up buckets and other equipment. “How’re you doing out here?”
The tall, thin man wiped his hands on his insulated pants. “I think I’ve got what we need. We really lucked out with this garage being heated. I wasn’t looking forward to working outside today, but this will definitely make it easier.”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to help you.”
“Seriously. You want to be out there in that weather?”
“I’ve never seen this done before in snow. Is it much harder?”
“There’s an extra step, but I’ve got the special wax we use for this, so it shouldn’t be too hard.” He added, “I’d love some help. Let’s mix the dental stone in here. First we’ll go out and set up the forms. You know which ones you want prints of?”
“I think so, but you can tell me what you think. I’ve got them marked with flags.”
“It’s going to take a while. The wax needs to set up for a few minutes before we can pour the cast.”
They both bundled up, covering every inch of skin, and went back outside. Over the next few hours, Amy helped him set forms around each print, spray the wax over the impression, and then mix dental stone using very cold water. Then they’d cover the impression with a box and let it dry while they started to work on the next one. When they had impressions of all four wheels and multiples of each shoe, they decided they had enough.
Amy’s fingers were numb and she was shaking with exhaustion, but thrilled that she got to work with Lawson. She was drinking more coffee and standing next to him, looking over their work. The castings covered the floor of the garage in rows, reverse images of the prints in snow.
Lawson said, “Nobody thinks to cover their feet. Wouldn’t be that hard. Just slip on rubbers or booties or something. We would still be able to tell a few things, like their approximate weight, but that wouldn’t give us much evidence. Sure they wear gloves and put masks over their faces, but then they tromp all over, leaving tracks that are easy to find, especially in snow. Lots of info in foot prints.”
“It’s almost all we’ve got on this guy.” Amy asked, “What can you tell from these prints? Anything jump out at you?”
“So this is what we know: the guy—I’m assuming it was a guy since most women don’t wear a size 12—was wearing some kind of boot, I’m guessing either a Red Wing or a Timberline. Hard to tell without studying them. They make a very similar impression. I’m also thinking he wasn’t overweight. The prints weren’t too deep. The boots look fairly new, there’s not a lot of wear on them.” Ted stared down at the prints that were lined up in the garage. “All I can say is if you find the guy and find his boots, you’ve got him. These are nice clean prints.”
“What about the vehicle?”
“I’m not as good with tires. Not my area of expertise, but those are good tire prints. Again, crisp and clean. Looks like some kind of truck. Notice how wide apart the wheels are. But those tires are worn. So I’d say some kind of old clunker.”
“Thanks for letting me help.”
Ted lifted his coffee cup. “Any time. You do good work.”
Amy found Claire sitting at the kitchen counter and filled her in on what Ted had told her.
Claire wrote a few notes down, then said, “Listen, go get a couple hours of sleep and then I want you to drive into the Cities and find Danielle and let her know what’s happened to her dad. I know it’s an hour and a half drive, but I’d rather you tell her in person. Sherri said she went back to the cities today. You’ve got her address in town, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I got it at the hospital.”
“I want you to drive up there and talk to her in person. I want you to see how she reacts. I doubt she’s involved, but I want to check out everyone that’s on
our list of suspects. We know she doesn’t drive a truck. However, I need to go talk to Clyde Hegstrom and then I’ll drop in on John Gordon. A guy who wears boots and drives a truck—could be either one of them.”
“About John Gordon...” Amy started. Like pulling a bandage off skin, do it quick.
Claire must have heard something in her voice, because she lifted her head up and looked at Amy. “Yes?”
Amy faced her square on. “He wasn’t wearing boots last night. I know because his shoes are under my bed.”
9 am
The sun glared doubly in her eyes, once through the pale blue sky and then again off the glazed snow crust. There was a crystalline quality to the landscape, and Claire felt like it was cutting her up into little pieces. She felt tired, not just from waking up after only a few hours of sleep, but tired from seeing what people did to each other. As she drove out to the Hegstrom farm, she realized she didn’t want to have to ask these people what they had been doing last night. She knew it was her job, but suddenly it seemed immensely rude.
Then there was Amy.
Just when she was thinking how far along Amy was coming, she’d gone and done something so stupid as to sleep with a suspect. Claire could already hear the sheriff reaming them both out. One of the hazards of working in a small county. Everyone knew everyone and even occasionally slept with them.
As Claire turned down Hegstrom Lane, she gave herself a pep talk. Do your job, do it well. One step in front of another. The one thing she was sure of was she wanted to find who had killed Daniel Walker. She wanted Sherri to have some kind of closure—more than she had had.
When she knocked on the door, a female voice said, “Come on in. It’s open. I have my hands full.”
Claire pushed through the door and stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. Bonnie Hegstrom was sitting in rocking chair in the corner of the room with her baby in her arms, her tawny hair streaming down her shoulders. Claire quietly walked forward. When she got close she could see that the baby was sleeping. His eyelids were like pale pink shells with threads of purple, quivering. His full lips were slitted open, a bit of baby spit on his chin. He looked so peaceful. A calmness emanated from them both.
“Finally he’s sleeping,” Bonnie whispered. “He was up all night.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“Mom says it serves me right. I guess I didn’t sleep through the night until I was two. Or so she’s claiming.”
“Where are your parents?”
“Mom’s downstairs doing wash. We’re really going through the diapers. And Dad’s sleeping. But you don’t need to talk to them. We all discussed the situation and we’re in agreement. We don’t want to press charges against Mr. Walker.”
“What about child support?” Claire blurted.
“We’d like to handle that privately.”
Claire was so impressed with how adult Bonnie had become, not that she had known the girl much before. But from how Meg had described her, Bonnie had sounded like a quiet girl. Maybe having the baby would give her some self-assurance.
As if reading her thoughts, Bonnie said, “I never would have thought having a baby would have been a good thing, especially right now. But I’m actually glad. I wake up and he’s there staring at me, and I feel happy. I want to take care of him. I want to finish school and go to college and get a good job so I can take care of him. I’ve never felt like this before.”
Funny what love can do to a person, Claire thought. “That’s great.”
“Anyways, that’s what we decided about Mr. Walker.”
“Well, I might need to talk to your dad.”
“I hate to wake him. He had a pretty rough night.”
“How so?”
“Well, he got up with the baby after midnight and didn’t get back to sleep for an hour or two. We’re kinda taking it in shifts. I’m not sure how long my parents’ll last, but I feel like I’m getting my strength back already.”
Relief flooded Claire. This was the best kind of absolute alibi, being unasked for made it that much stronger. “So your dad was here all evening?”
“Oh, yeah. Too cold to go out for anything. We just sat in front of the fire and watched Eric.” Bonnie rubbed her baby’s forehead with one finger. “I can’t believe how I never get tired of him.”
“There will be times.”
“Oh, I’m sure. But right now, he’s perfect.”
“Hey, Claire. Cold enough for you?” Sara came into the kitchen with a basket of diapers on her hip and set it down at Bonnie’s feet. “Might as well fold them now, Bonnie. Nice to work with them while they’re warm. Slip the baby down into you lap and you should be able to manage them. I know it’s asking too much of you to put him down for a second.”
“Mom, you know he wakes up if I put him down.”
“He’s got to get used to it. Especially if you’re planning on going back to school soon.”
“But he’s so little.”
Sara beamed down at her grandson. “Wouldn’t know it from the caterwauling he did last night.” Then she asked Bonnie, “Did you tell her our decision?”
“I did.”
Claire cleared her throat. “Well, I have some news for you two. I just came from the Walker’s. Daniel Walker was killed last night.” She hesitated about saying how it had been done.
“What happened?” Sara asked.
Bonnie’s eyes filled with tears. “Killed? But he didn’t even get to see Eric. His son.”
“I can’t say much more. We’re still looking into it, but I wanted to come over and tell you myself.”
Sara straightened her shoulders and stated, “Clyde was here all night long. None of us left the house.”
“I know. Bonnie made that clear.”
“I’m so sorry for his wife.” Sara bowed her head. “That poor woman. Was she there? Is she all right?”
“She’s not hurt, but she’s devastated, as you can imagine. Losing your husband twice in a couple days would do anyone in.”
CHAPTER 20
5 January: 11:30 am
Something bad happened last night,” Meg told Curt as they sat next to each other in the lunchroom.
He handed her one of his peanut butter cookies and she gave him half of her apple. “What? How do you know?”
“Mom tore out of the house in the middle of the night. I woke up but was too tired to look at my alarm clock, but it was pitch black out. I don’t think Rich even woke up. He didn’t know anything about it when I got up this morning. But I heard her go. When I left for school this morning, she still wasn’t back. So I assume it had to be pretty bad.”
“What’s that like? Knowing your mom is going to some weird, gory scene?”
Meg thought for a second. “I worry sometimes. Not so much down here, but when we lived in town, that was scarier. She really doesn’t talk about her work much. In fact, when it’s the worst is when she gets really quiet. She just goes away.”
“My mom gets like that. Dad says it’s her time of life. But I like the quiet better than the bitch-o-rama.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Meg looked around the lunch room. “Where’s your bud, Danger Man?”
“Don’t know. He didn’t show up today. He’s been threatening to take his own private snow day.”
“I like that. I can’t believe I actually like an Andy idea.” Meg regretted what she said as soon as the words left her mouth. Since Curt had accused her of being jealous, she was working really hard on not being so negative about Andy.
“Well if I know Andy, a snow day has little to do with snow. He’s probably been playing GTA for a million hours.” Curt rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know how he can keep at it for as long as he does. Or, who knows, maybe he’s hanging with that Danielle.”
Meg had been shocked when she heard that Andy had been seeing Danielle Walker. She remembered seeing her once this fall at an event at the Lake Pepin Art Center, when they had brought in a film and the director. Danielle had bee
n there, wearing boots that came up above her knees. And they had looked good on her. Not only was Danielle a few years older than Andy, but she seemed really snooty, like she would have thought she was way too cool for a kid like Andy. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“I think you might be right about one thing.”
“Only one thing?” Meg teased him.
“I’m starting to think too much of those video games can really warpify your mind. I’m even playing the games in my dreams. It’s like I can’t get away from them.” He grabbed hold of his head and shook it. “He does like to ice fish. Maybe he’s out there staring into that freezing water.”
Meg was so relieved to hear Curt talking about what was going on with Andy and how so much video-gaming was affecting him. Maybe she would get the old Curt back again. “I suppose you could take a break from the gaming.”
“Yeah, I guess. It’s just hard. I want to play. It’s like a compulsion.” He pretended like he was armed with a game, air-playing. “Plus, it’s winter and there isn’t a lot else to do.”
“Why don’t you come over later?” She didn’t want to push him too hard, just make a suggestion. “We could play chess.”
“You mean like on a board?” He bumped her with his shoulder.
“Yeah, do you remember how to move little figures around with your hands in real reality?”
He burst out laughing. “Real reality. Good one, Megsly. I guess I could try to remember how to play chess, for you.”
“Well, remember this—I beat you last time.” She poked him in the ribs.
Curt stuck his chest out and thumped it. “I am King of the chessboard.”
“But in chess the King has little power. It’s much better to be Queen.”
3 pm
When Danielle opened the door, Amy was struck by the fact that they were about the same age. For some reason she hadn’t really remarked on that before. Maybe it was because everything else about them was so different.
Not only that, but seeing Danielle in her home environment, Amy saw how truly gorgeous she was. In the hospital, she had looked wilted, with her hair tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing her hair down and it hung below her shoulders in a heavy honey-brown hue. She had enough make-up on to enhance all her already-perfect features, but not so much that it drew attention to itself. She was wearing a soft blue cashmere sweater—at least it looked like what Amy thought cashmere would look like—over a pair of wool pants.