by Emery Hayes
“Yes. We made promises, and I have just broken mine.”
“Did he say why?”
“He did not need to. He is good and the others are not.”
That simple. Adelai was growing tired. Nicole could see it in the circles under her eyes, which were deepening, and in the slant of her shoulders. Lois Embry saw it too.
“We’re done, Sheriff. You have more questions, you need to call us in for a formal interview.”
Nicole ignored her. “And there’s nothing else you should be telling me, Adelai? Nothing else you saw or heard?”
She shook her head slowly, still mired, it seemed, in memories of that night. “There’s nothing else.”
Nicole nodded. She looked over Adelai’s shoulder to the house. The yellow tape fluttered in the breeze, and the wind lifted a corner of the screen propped against the house so that it clattered against the siding.
“You shouldn’t stay here,” Nicole said.
“I’m not. Not for long, anyway.”
“This is no longer an active crime scene, but nothing has been cleaned up.”
“I will keep that door closed,” Adelai said. “And put the screens back in. I just need a day or two.”
Waiting for a man who might or might not show up.
Nicole thought a moment about numbers—budget and hours and her thinning pool of manpower. “I’ll send a deputy back tonight so that you can sleep.”
“Thank you,” Adelai said. “One more night in what should have been our family home. It will have to be enough.”
Nicole extended her hand. It didn’t seem to be enough, because she felt drawn to this young woman, a sister connection sealed in mutual motherhood under dire straits. “Keep my card,” she said. “And don’t hesitate to call.”
“I will,” Adelai promised, then asked, “Is Luke Franks still alive?”
Nicole saw hope flare in her eyes. If Luke had made it, then maybe Matthew had too.
“Yes,” she said. “But I’ve heard nothing about Matthew.”
Adelai nodded, and Nicole turned and walked back to the Yukon, her deputy in step beside her.
“I wouldn’t mind coming back here tonight,” Sisk offered.
“Good, because those were my intentions.” Her budget had been pushed through the shredder on this one, and she thought about ways to recoup some of the losses. She wondered if she could bill BP for the cost of the investigation. Or maybe apply to the Department of Homeland Security for some kind of reimbursement? “I’ll drop you at your car. Go home and get a nap, pack a lunch or two and a thermos of coffee. The nights can get long.”
21
Forensics was located in a new building less than a mile from the sheriff’s station. It was three stories tall and currently under construction to put a bay in back that would serve MacAulay in terms of receiving bodies for autopsy. It was in the plans to move the ME out of his small cave in the basement of the hospital, freeing up space for them to expand, and into spacious accommodations exactly where he should be, among the forensics crew. MacAulay would share his domain with the MEs from neighboring Glacier and Liberty counties—all three counties had put money into the pot to make it happen. Nicole parked and made her way across the lot, gazing at the sky. The sun was overhead, but the cool breeze diffused the heat. It was four fifteen.
Lars was waiting for her, leaning against the hood of his Yukon and paging through the notes on his smartphone. He pocketed it when she approached.
“I spoke to MacAulay,” he said. “He’s off the grid for a while but finished up with Baker before leaving and won’t need to check in with the ice man until ten PM. He has cause and TOD. The agent was knocked unconscious with not one but two taps to the head. One at the temple—the blow which would have rendered her unconscious—the other from behind, just below the cerebellum—this one got her attention and she turned toward her attacker. Cause of death is drowning, and given temperature readings from the lake and the atmosphere, he says she died between two and two thirty AM.”
“Two thirty?” Her voice rose sharply. Nicole had spoken to Monte at 2:37.
“Exactly. Baker was dead before Monte placed that call to you.”
And he’d made no mention of it. He had appeared calm, steady over the phone. He’d made small talk about the weather that hadn’t, even in hindsight, seemed forced. Either Monte hadn’t known about Agent Baker’s murder or he’d had ice coursing through his veins.
“MacAulay also said that the body was moved. She was pulled from the lake, laid flat on her back long enough that her blood settled and coagulated, and sometime later placed either back in the lake or on the shoreline, facedown.”
Nicole pulled her cell phone from her pocket and connected with Green’s number. He answered after a single ring.
“Did you lie about everything?” she asked.
“What are you talking about? I’ve lied about nothing.”
Nicole snorted. “Who was assigned to Monte that night?”
“Baker.”
“MacAulay finished his autopsy on Baker. She was dead before Monte called me. So try again. Who was assigned to Monte?”
“Baker is on the duty roster,” Green insisted.
She felt like she was banging her head against a brick wall.
“Is your entire department corrupt?” she said. You included? She didn’t say it but implied it and severed the connection, refusing to listen to anything more the man had to say.
“Everything he’s told us, we’ll have to confirm,” she said, and let out a breath of frustration.
Lars nodded. “He’s been leading us around by the nose.”
And like any piercing, it stung.
“Pisses me off,” Lars continued. “We’re supposed to have each other’s backs out here.”
The betrayal within the agency had a long reach. It put her men at risk, and that angered Nicole.
“Time to storm the fortress,” she said.
“You get a call back from the attorney general?”
She nodded. “They’re sending out a single agent. He should have been here by now, but we’re not waiting around for a meet and greet.”
“What do you have planned?”
“We need to get back to Luke Franks,” she said. “We need to find Monte.” She’d called Lars after her conversation with Adelai and given him the update. Neither she nor Lars was surprised the agent had survived the ambush on the lake or the swim to shore. “Anything come back on our call to border crossing?” Lars had checked to see if Monte’s vehicle had passed over the border.
“They said within the hour.” He checked his watch. “They have twenty minutes left.”
“We need names, interviews, arrests, and Franks is a good place to start.”
“Who’s going to wait on the AG?” Lars asked. “You want me to call in Ty?”
She thought about that. The AG had taken its time in sending help and thrown them a bone with just one agent. She had no one to spare for a meet and greet and possible babysitting, and they couldn’t put off seeing Franks. “We’ll leave him in the wind,” she decided.
They entered the building and rode the elevator to the third floor. The building had been intended as a modest suite of offices but had faltered in gaining the interest of Blue Mesa’s thin crop of professionals, which meant that the county had secured it cheap. It also meant that the corridor was lined with windows into the lab. Three techs were at work. With two in the field, they were working at an all-hands.
They stopped at the door to the lab. Nicole’s ID would get them past the security monitor, but Arthur liked to meet them at the door, so she rang the buzzer. Lars, whose ID would also gain them access, didn’t grouse about it this time.
“Franks was uncooperative,” Lars began, “but I didn’t get a stink off him. He was wary but almost transparent when he was asking about the GSW. He was invested in my answer. I think he knew his brother was in Adelai’s house.”
Nicole nodded. “Deidre Franks wa
s Jordan’s fifth-grade teacher. She’s solid, no-nonsense. I’d like to hear what she has to say.” About family dynamics and about her husband, particularly in regard to his job. Tapping into a husband or wife was always enlightening.
“Okay, so we’ll head over to Franks’ place as soon as we’re finished here.”
“I’d love to hear what Franks has to say about Monte and Baker.”
“If he’ll talk.”
“We have more leverage now. Confirmation on Franks’ dead brother, and he’s an uncle now.”
Lars nodded. “That might get us something.” Then he changed the subject. “Doc said he’ll start the autopsy on the ice man between ten and midnight—there’s a science to it, a preferred window of time in terms of determining TOD and cause. I’d like to attend that.”
“Go for it,” Nicole said. She had other threads to follow. A call to make to BP Isle of Royale to check out the pin. She wanted a list of all agents who had been decorated for valor over the incident. She needed to touch base with the boating company who had reported the party barge stolen—if that was really the case. She wanted to check in with Jane Casper before going home. And she’d like a few minutes with her son before he left for the Scout hike bright and early the next day.
“Uncle of Adelai’s baby,” Lars mused aloud. “That puts another spoke in the wheel.”
“Adelai’s an undocumented alien.”
“A conflict of interest in terms of Luke Franks’ sworn duty.”
“The men chasing Adelai were BP agents.” She believed that more than ever now. “And Franks wasn’t involved in the chase,” she said, thinking aloud. “He’d called in sick, but he was left out of the loop.”
“That was real clear. He was pumping me for information,” Lars said. “But why were they after Adelai in particular?”
“She has something. Did Mac get the results of the blood work—is Adelai related to the ice man?”
But Lars shook his head. “Another day for prelim on that test.”
“Tandy thought Adelai ran because the men wanted the baby. And I think she’s right. I think they would do anything to get what Adelai had, even use her son as leverage. She has evidence, maybe,” she posed. “Or product.”
“Either would make her a target,” he said.
“And where is Matthew Franks in all this?” Nicole wondered.
“Dead or alive, Luke Franks knows,” Lars said.
“Yeah, he does,” Nicole agreed.
“You know what this all comes back to?” Lars said.
“The man in the ice,” Nicole said.
“That needle in a haystack.”
“The trigger. Monte calls it in and all hell breaks loose.”
“We still have the tip about several possible UDAs crossing the lake,” Lars said.
“They’re long gone,” Nicole said. “And given what Adelai told us about the agents and the refugees, I think evidence and drugs went with them.”
“Along with a boatload of money.”
“But not all of it,” she said. The satchel found near Baker’s body stuffed with cash and drugs, still bearing the BP evidence seal. “That bothers me. What a stroke of luck.”
“Yeah, but pennies compared to what’s already lost.”
“But a direct link.” In court, it would be a stepping stone down the path of conviction.
“We stumbled on a pipeline. I think Monte did the same.”
“Monte and Baker,” she agreed. “I’m checking in with Casper later. Hopefully by then she’s cracked the code in Monte’s notebook.”
She pressed the buzzer again, leaving her finger on the button a little longer than necessary, which earned her a raised eyebrow from Lars.
“Let’s get back to MacAulay,” she suggested.
“Yes, let’s.” He was too agreeable, and she thought she detected a trace of amusement on his face but chose to ignore it.
“You’re going to the autopsy tonight.” She was happy to take a pass there. Next to budget, autopsies were her least favorite part of the job. “So after this, why don’t you go home? Nap or see the kids. Spend some time with Ellie. Have dinner around the family table. It’s April-you have the pool open yet? Take a swim, or—what is it you guys do? Cannonball rallies? Do that.”
“I might do all of it,” he said, and smiled.
She turned on him. “What?”
And he grinned like the damn Cheshire cat. “Pissed looks good on you,” he said.
Nicole took a moment to collect herself. Anger was good only when it was harnessed, not when it was nipping at her heels. The corruption of law enforcement had a way of spreading out, tainting others, and she would make a point of separating her department from BP at the next press conference. It was the first time she was looking forward to one of those.
“We need to do next of kin on the GSW,” Lars said. “I told MacAulay I’d like to do it.”
“You’re going to tell Luke Franks,” Nicole said. Not the parents. “We can do it this afternoon.”
“I want to see his reaction.”
Arthur came to the door and punched his code into the keypad. The door released with a metallic click and a suction of air as it slid open.
“Welcome,” Arthur said. He turned and walked deeper into the lab, and Nicole and Lars followed. “We’re very busy, as you can see,” Arthur continued, raising his arms to indicate the number of techs and the different stations and testing being conducted. “Three DOAs and the placenta in less than twenty-four hours, and we are scrambling to keep up.”
Nicole knew where the conversation was heading and agreed. “I requested another full-time technician from the budgetary committee. It will be entry level,” Nicole cautioned, but it was something, and Arthur seemed happy about it.
“A meaty bone thrown to the dogs.” He cast a smile over his shoulder.
“I also included a request for funds to cover additional trainings and conferences.” But she wasn’t as hopeful that this request would be met with approval.
They stopped outside Arthur’s tiny glass office at the back of the lab. He turned and looked over the stations and began his report.
“Here”—he raised a hand, indicating a long table with infrared lighting, luminol, and a scanning electron microscope—“a single drop of blood that doesn’t match the victim was found on the sleeve of Agent Monte’s parka. I love Gore-Tex,” he said. “What it doesn’t repel, it allows to seep deep within the woven fibers. Blood is one of those things. The lake water is low salinity, and it wasn’t able to wash away the stain completely. And the drop was new enough that little breakdown had happened prior to submersion.”
“What’s the story on it?” Lars asked.
“Female.” The surprise was clear in Arthur’s voice. “Type AB negative, so rare. Less than one percent of our population has it. Elevated white cells.”
“What does that mean?” Nicole asked. She’d heard of high white blood cells in relation to infection. “Was she sick?”
“That’s only one possibility,” Arthur said. “Infection, and that can be anything from an ingrown toenail to lupus. Leukemia and other blood cancers. Poor nutrition, extreme pressures placed on the body for an extended period of time—this would be a common find in a long-distance runner, for example.”
“What about pregnancy?” Nicole asked. “Would that raise the white blood cell count?”
“Certainly,” Arthur said. “It could be indicative of many things. Preeclampsia, for instance. Leukocytosis, which is the body’s natural inflammatory response to a normal pregnancy. Or a bacterial infection, which is more common than you think during pregnancy. The female body is under a great deal of stress, particularly toward the end of her pregnancy, and this almost always has a direct impact on cell count.”
“You’re thinking Adelai?” Lars asked.
“I’m thinking of possibilities,” she said. “We’re running out of them.” She turned to Sleeping Bear. “What is Adelai Amari’s blood type?�
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“AB negative,” Sleeping Bear confirmed. “I have thought along the same lines as you. This will support the theory that Agent Monte assisted Adelai with the birth of her baby. However, he discarded his coat after, not before.”
“He swam to shore wearing the parka?” Clearly, Lars doubted it.
“It’s possible he didn’t swim to shore at all,” Arthur said.
“Then he boarded the party barge from the BP skiff,” Nicole said.
“That is my guess, given what evidence we do have.”
“We assumed, on finding his jacket, that he’d swum for it,” Lars said.
“That and Tandy’s description of the party boat sweeping the water. But maybe that was Monte and he was looking for someone,” Nicole said. “Agent Baker, I think.”
“I have more for you,” Arthur said. “Come this way.”
He advanced through the lab, past specialized equipment that Nicole regarded as their friends and worth every considerable penny.
“MacAulay was able to remove the coat and shoes from our ice man a few hours ago,” Arthur said, stopping beside a table where several clear plastic bags lay sealed and identified. Nicole read the tags: JOHN DOE and the corresponding number, FLANNEL SHIRT—really just a small piece of fabric, as though torn from the shirt; the next held a shearling-lined denim coat; then a pair of hiking boots that still looked new and none the worse for wear after months encased in ice. “He also took samples of blood, hair, and nail clippings, along with scrapings.”
“And what did you find?”
“AB negative,” Arthur revealed.
“Really?” Lars said. “I like that.”
“Me too.”
If Adelai and the ice man were related, it would tip the case sideways. And as Nicole pondered that, out fell a number of tantalizing possibilities, along with the feeling that a web was beginning to reveal itself, with dots to connect and a shape materializing from the darkness. That shape, Nicole hoped, would fill out into the identity of their killer.
“We still have to wait another day for blood relation to be determined?” Lars asked.
“Yes, and that will be prelim. It’s enough for us in the field, for now. But for a definitive answer, that’s upwards of three weeks,” he reminded them.