“He’s here,” Tori reported, seeing the white van parked in front of the detached garage to the cabin’s right.
The cabin was set close to the lake on what appeared to be a wide isolated stretch of property thick with a plentiful collection of mature pines, spruces, elms, white birches, cedars and oaks, a quintessential old school working man’s Minnesota lake cabin.
With the search warrant in his hands, Braddock led the four of them to the front door, with Braddock and Tori taking the steps while Hansen and the deputy positioned themselves on the sidewalk. Braddock knocked repeatedly but there was no answer. Braddock looked back to Tori, putting his right hand on the butt of his Glock. Tori stepped back from the front door and down the steps, drawing her weapon. Sheriff Hansen and his deputy drew their weapons. Hansen gestured they would take the left side of the house. Leaving Tori to monitor the front, Braddock fanned out and took the right.
Braddock moved his way around the side of the house to the back. It was eerily quiet, the lake calm, with just a few distant boats out enjoying the Monday sun. As he peered out along Brule’s long dock, he could see the fishing boat on the lift, up out of the water. He looked left. There was a small square cedar wood deck fronting the cabin. Braddock took the three steps up onto the deck and approached the sliding glass door. He peered around the edge of the sliding glass door to the inside.
“Ahhhhhh shit!”
“What is it?” Hansen asked, approaching.
Gunther Brule was slumped in a chair, his arms hanging over the chair’s rounded arms, a gun lying on the floor below his right hand.
Braddock grabbed a blanket from his truck, wrapped it around his right fist, and punched the small windowpane just left of the deadbolt of the front door, breaking the glass. He carefully reached inside and flipped the lock open. Once inside, Braddock carefully moved to the left of the chair, and saw that the gun lying on the floor below Brule’s right hand was a Smith & Wesson 38 Special Revolver. Brule himself had a dried bloody hole in his right upper forehead with an exit wound out the lower back left.
Tori simply stood staring at Brule. Was this her sister’s killer? Did he kill himself because they were going to finally, finally catch him? “He was defiant and now he’s dead,” she muttered quietly.
Braddock crouched down, examining the gun’s location and the entry wound high above Brule’s right temple, almost on top of his head. “It ties up all nice and neat, doesn’t it?” he muttered under his breath before looking over to Tori. “Not the dramatic confrontation you expected.”
Tori simply shook her head, took one last look at Brule and then walked out the sliding glass door. Braddock watched as she slowly walked down to the lake and out onto the long dock. She sat down on the bench and gazed out to the water.
Braddock looked back to the dead body of Brule and couldn’t help but think about what Tori just said: He was defiant and now he’s dead.
CHAPTER 23
“THERE IS ACCEPTANCE AND THERE IS BELIEF—THEY’RE TWO DIFFERENT THINGS.”
T ori had long thought that if her sister’s case was ever solved, that when that moment came, she would feel a sense of relief. She would know what happened to Jessie. There would be a sense of finality. She could move on.
Yet as Braddock drove her back to Manchester, she didn’t feel that sense of relief. Nor later as she laid in bed did she feel any sort of finality. Instead, her mind whirred.
Sleep was fitful at best. She stirred at the slightest sound, whether it be the air conditioner activating, a random noise from the hallway, the ambient street noise or the distant siren at 4:30 a.m. Only from pure exhaustion did she eventually sleep. At an unusually late 7:45 she got up. As she stood in the shower letting the water wash over her, she concluded that her fitful night of sleep was indicative of the fact that she wasn’t yet comfortable that Brule was the killer. She had too many unanswered questions.
Did she have doubts because of what Braddock said, that there wasn’t that dramatic confrontation she envisioned?
Was there doubt because there wasn’t an admission from Gunther that he did it?
Or was it that Gunther, after twenty years, would go out so meekly without leaving behind any answers? And if he did that, what was the point of sending the newspaper article in the first place?
What she needed to do is go back up to that cabin where the investigation was ongoing and see if she could find enough answers to put her mind at ease.
As she toweled off and thought about calling Braddock, he beat her to the punch with a text. He must have been thinking like she was as he suggested she should go back up to Brule’s. Braddock also said he was busy working on a project and he’d check with her later. She texted back asking what project? He replied cryptically that they would talk later. She’d come to learn Will Braddock was a man who kept things close to the vest until he was ready to discuss them, so for once she didn’t push and simply replied with an okay.
With a bottle of water and a Starbucks coffee Tori made the drive up back north to Brule’s cabin. With the Power Loon classic rock station filling the car with Aerosmith, Def Leppard, Bon Jovi, Journey, Kansas, Springsteen and then some Rolling Stones, she slowly found herself relaxing as she took in the winding drive up through lakes country to Brule’s cabin.
It was approaching eleven when she arrived. She flashed her identification to a Cass County sheriff’s deputy and then stepped under the crime scene tape and walked up the driveway to find an energetic hum of activity around Brule’s cabin. She found Steak dressed in a brown suit, his tie already loose from his collar, standing on the front steps. “This is a different look,” he said, looking down admiringly.
“I’ll take that as compliment.” Tired of her pantsuits, she’d let her hair flow down to her shoulders and dressed more casually in tight black jeans, an aqua blue open-front linen blazer with a soft cream top.
“Good, it was intended as one.”
“What’s going on around here? I see lots of activity.”
“I figured you’d have come up with Braddock earlier.”
“He was here?”
“Yeah, early. Five-thirty a.m. He walked through the place for about an hour and then took off.”
“Huh,” Tori answered, surprised. “He texted me that he was working on a project of some kind.”
“About this case?”
Tori shrugged. “I assume so. I’m sure you’ll be surprised to learn he doesn’t tell me, the person who has perhaps been the bane of his existence as of late, everything.”
“Bane of his existence?” Steak chuckled, shaking his head with a wry smile on his face. “I don’t think it’s been that bad, Tor. I think he kind of likes you.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tori started in reply.
Steak waved her off. “You got the invite out to his house for that night we barbequed and waterskied. Only friends get those.”
“I must have been the exception, then.”
“Nah, he’s a good judge of character. And he knew you needed a break like the rest of us. And admit it, you had fun that night.”
“I did.” Tori smiled, nodding. “So, what’s all the activity around here?”
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Oh, there’s lots. Follow me,” Steak replied, waving for Tori to follow him to the detached garage. He led her inside and to the workbench. “What do you see?”
“Liquid mercury.” The mercury was in a small glass bottle from Sidwell Explosives where Brule worked. “And the glass and wiring?”
“The forensic team says those are the kinds of pieces you’d need for a mercury tilt switch. I sent a couple of cell phone photos to the bomb squad guys and they confirmed that the electrodes and wiring are like those found under Will’s Tahoe. And there’s more.”
“More?”
“Oh yeah, let’s go in the cabin for the clincher,” Steak suggested. She followed him inside to a spare bedroom in the back of t
he cabin and the closet. Deep inside the closet was a compartment with the wood panel cover removed. Inside the compartment there were two vertical gun racks.
“There were three different Ruger rifles with scopes that were discovered in here after you guys left last night. They were all sent to the lab in Bemidji and the ballistics tech was called in at midnight to go to work.”
“Do we have a match?”
Steak nodded. “Yeah, heard an hour ago.”
“And Braddock knows.”
“Yes. And one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“The tire treads on the van match those we found in the woods not far from where he shot at you.”
“The loose ends are being tied up.”
“Indeed, they are,” Steak replied as his phone started buzzing. “If you’ll excuse me.”
They had the gun that was used to attempt to kill her. There was mercury and mercury switch materials in the garage. He shot himself with a 38 Special right by his hand. The tire treads for the van were a match.
The physical evidence said it was him, which explained why she received a text from Braddock about a meeting in Lund’s office in ninety minutes with the county attorney, among others.
As she drove back south to Manchester, the Power Loon rocking away once again, she ran the case through her mind, everything they knew, and then everything they didn’t.
The evidence, physical and otherwise, said Brule was the shooter and the bomber and if he was the shooter and the bomber, the only reason he would be those things was because he was the killer of Jessie and of Lash.
It wasn’t an uncompelling case. Nevertheless, as all of that marinated in her mind, something seemed amiss. It didn’t seem completely right. She couldn’t put her finger on why she still felt that way, but she did.
That was the last thought running through her mind as she entered Cal’s office. The Shepard County Attorney George Backstrom and Assistant County Attorney Anne Wilson were sitting on the couch. Leaning against the wall opposite was Braddock, holding a manila folder in his hands.
“What’s in the folder?” she asked with a whisper before taking one of the chairs in front of Lund’s desk.
“We’ll talk about it later.”
“So, before you came in, Tori,” Cal started, “we were talking about congratulations being in order.”
“That’s a bit premature, don’t you think?” Tori replied guardedly.
“Perhaps,” Backstrom answered. “But the momentum here is undeniable.”
The momentum that Brule was their man was undeniable. The Shepard County Attorney said there was more than enough to build the case. “As we keep digging, I suspect we’ll find even more of a tie of Brule to Lash beyond their little incident at Mannion’s.”
“Perhaps,” Tori replied with continued reticence, glancing to Braddock whose face betrayed nothing.
“Special Agent Hunter, you surprise me,” Backstrom replied, almost amused. “At long last we have your sister’s killer, yet you don’t seem so happy.”
“I won’t deny what the evidence we do have seems to show,” Tori answered.
“Seems?”
“It’s circumstantial. We don’t have any direct evidence he killed Lash or my sister.”
“We’ve convicted with less,” Backstrom replied, “and what about all the evidence we do have?”
“What about what we don’t have?” Tori retorted.
“Such as?” Assistant Attorney Wilson asked.
“Where is my sister’s body?” Tori asked. “Where is Genevieve Lash’s body? If Brule did all of this, where are the bodies? We’ve seen no sign of those yet.”
“No,” Cal answered. “Best guess is he either dumped them somewhere or he has that cabin property and all that land in the woods outside of town where his house sits. That house in the woods was his parents’ property and they’ve both been dead for twelve or thirteen years. That property is isolated, expansive, and has several open clearings we need to explore. The same is true for his cabin property. I’ve already placed a call to the BCA. Tomorrow we’ll have dogs and the BCA’s ground-penetrating radar and we’re going to set a grid and search every inch of both pieces of property. But Tori, you must realize we may never find the bodies. That won’t mean he didn’t do it.”
“Then we may never know if it was Brule,” Tori protested. “He didn’t leave a note. He committed suicide.”
“Same thing as a note if you ask me,” Wilson answered quickly.
“That’s right,” Backstrom joined. “You two sweat him a little outside the VFW and that night he goes up to his cabin in the woods, gets into a bottle of Maker’s Mark and then offs himself. I think that’s a pretty solid admission.”
“I agree,” Cal added. “He saw the writing on the wall.” Lund took the measure of Tori. “You seem less than convinced. I thought you would look at this as closure. I mean, you want closure, don’t you?”
“More than you can imagine,” Tori replied. “But I want to know for certain that it was Brule. But,” she shook her head, looking away, “I don’t know, something seems …not right,” she remarked as her gaze drifted over to Braddock. He’d remained silent during the entire conversation, looking off in the distance.
“What seems off?” Cal asked.
“The article,” Tori replied, turning back to Cal, Backstrom and Wilson. “That’s what got me here in the first place. Gunther tracks me down, sends me that article, draws me here and then he…commits suicide?”
“It didn’t work out how he thought it would,” Wilson replied. “He missed the shot at you. He failed to take out Will here, thank God. His grand plan failed.”
“He was going to lose, couldn’t face it, so he took the easy way out,” Backstrom added.
“I don’t know,” Tori replied, shaking her head. “I just don’t know. And what about Katy Anderson? How does she fit in all of this? Everyone in here talks about my sister and Lash, but what about Katy? What ties Gunther to her, beyond being in the same high school class? What was he doing the night she went missing?”
“Maybe we don’t talk about Katy because Katy isn’t part of this,” Wilson answered. “Something happened to her, but that doesn’t mean it has anything to do with Brule, your sister or Genevieve Lash.”
“Awfully coincidental, don’t you think?” Tori replied, unconvinced.
“Or he saw you go over to Katy Anderson’s house, saw you meet with her, and then with Katy leaving the house, maybe he killed her, too.”
“Why?” Tori asked. “For what reason? If she knew something about Jessie’s case, her best friend’s case, you don’t think she would have something twenty years ago?”
“Maybe she knew something she didn’t realize she knew, but Brule knew,” Backstrom replied. “Before she figured it out, before she realized it, and especially with you here for the first time in twenty years, Brule had to act. Think about it. With you here she might finally put two and two together.”
“And when you went to see her, especially the second time…he knew he’d have to act,” Wilson posited. “He’d planned on that and Katy made it easy for him when she left the house later that night. Crime of opportunity.”
“I show up and my old best friend ends up dead, is what you’re saying,” Tori retorted.
“I’m not blaming you.”
“No, I’m sure,” Tori replied bitterly, now struggling to rein it in. She was about to blurt something else when Braddock lightly grasped her shoulder.
“It’s alright. It’s okay,” he said quietly while giving the stink eye to Wilson, who realized she’d veered down the wrong alley.
“Perhaps tomorrow can give you more of the answers you need,” Lund suggested. “Maybe the BCA will find the evidence you’re looking for. As for me, and this is not a criticism, Victoria, but I’m probably a little more objective here and I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Just don’t get ahead of yourself and schedule a press conferenc
e just yet,” Braddock stated tersely, finally speaking to the group.
“No, not yet,” Backstrom agreed, but his tone said he was close to being ready to do so.
After the meeting broke up Tori followed Braddock to his office. “You were awfully quiet, other than that little warning at the end. What gives?”
He exhaled a deep breath through his nose and rubbed his face hard. He sat back in his desk chair and with his eyes closed said, “Can we talk in the morning? I’m totally fried. I just want to go home, take a long hot shower and go to bed. The case isn’t going anywhere.”
“No, I don’t suppose it is tonight.”
“Thanks,” Braddock replied as he stood up. “I’ll buy you breakfast in the morning.”
“Okay.”
Tori watched as Braddock slipped on his sport coat and exited his office. She noticed that the manila folder didn’t stay behind.
With a sudden free night, Tori didn’t want to sit in her hotel room. She changed into some summer clothes, tan shorts and a pink tank top and called Corinne to see if she could meet for a drink. Corinne immediately said yes, but then did better than that. Way better.
An hour later Tori met her, along with Mickey and Lizzy at DePesto’s. For three hours Tori let the case go and just enjoyed a girl’s night out with her old friends. Tori ordered a nice bottle of red wine while her friends ordered three pasta dishes to be shared family style. The four of them just talked and gabbed as if twenty years had not passed since they’d been together. Tori laughed in bewilderment as her three friends, all married and parents to preteen and teen children told endless stories about their kids and husbands.
“My gosh, those kids have you running everywhere,” Tori remarked in amazement. “School, baseball, soccer, basketball, hockey, dance, plays, concerts…how do you guys do it?”
Her three friends looked to one another and then Corinne shrugged and answered, “We just do. One day I’m going to wake up and wonder where my thirties went, that’s for sure.”
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