‘What did he do for sex?’ Stride asked. ‘Did Marty use hookers to let off steam?’
‘Who knows? Probably. So some guy gets a little action in a doorway. The only people who get bent out of shape about it are the cops and the politicians, and most of them are doing it, too.’
‘Did Marty know any college girls?’
Green rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, that’s not the kind of action you find down at Curly’s. A girl like that’s not looking for a fifty dollar blow job, you know?’
Stride frowned. ‘Do you know Brooke Hahne?’
‘The gal who runs the shelter downtown? Yeah, sure. Sophie talked to her about Cat.’
‘Did you know her ten years ago?’
‘Ten years? She must have been a kid then.’ Green’s eyes widened. ‘Holy shit, are you saying that Brooke-?’
‘Just answer the question. Did you know Brooke Hahne ten years ago?’
‘No.’
‘Did Marty ever mention her to you? Or did you ever see him with a girl who looked like her?’
‘Hell, no. A classy girl like Brooke wouldn’t be hanging out with a guy like Marty. She’d be with some rich guy, hoping his heart explodes.’
Stride thought: She was. She was in bed with Lowball Lenny, but that didn’t explain how Marty Gamble wound up with Rebekah Keck’s ring. Somewhere, they were still missing a connection.
‘Do you remember a home invasion right around Christmas ten years ago?’ he asked Green. ‘The victim was Leonard Keck. His wife was killed.’
‘The car guy? Yeah, I remember something about that. It was big news.’ Green whistled. ‘Are you saying that Marty did the job? No way. I don’t buy it. It’s out of his league.’
‘Did he have a gun?’ Serena asked.
‘Sure he did. More than one.’
‘Did he say anything that would connect him to the burglary? Did he say anything about Lowball Lenny or the murder?’
‘I don’t remember him saying a word, but that doesn’t mean anything. Marty and I weren’t exactly talking to each other back then. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the son of a bitch.’
‘Why not?’ Serena asked.
Green pointed at the two-inch scar on his forehead. ‘Because he nearly killed me, the asshole! We got pissing drunk and got into a big fight behind Curly’s. It was a couple weeks before Christmas. Late, like one in the morning. He was on and on about Michaela, and I said he should just forget her and leave her alone, you know? Well, he lost it and started whaling on me. Fucking scary. He shoved a gun in my face and whacked me across the head with it. I was bleeding like a pig! You bastards sent me to a clinic and let him walk, like usual. Me? The doc gave me twenty stitches. After that, I didn’t have two words to say to Marty. We were still on the outs when he blew his head off.’
Stride nodded. They were at a dead end with Bill Green. He had nothing more to tell them. The only lead they had left was to find Brooke Hahne and get the truth out of her. She had all the answers, if she hadn’t already skipped town. If she was still alive.
The two of them stalked out of the garage into the darkness. The wind found them immediately, howling down from the skyline. It nearly drove them off their feet with its ferocious blows. The Duluth wind knew how to fight; it was a mean drunk, like Marty.
Stride stopped in the driveway. He heard a roaring in his head, but it wasn’t the wind. He felt cold, but the cold was deep inside his chest and empty, like a midnight cemetery.
A mean drunk.
He turned back to the garage and walked all the way up into Bill Green’s face.
‘What did you say?’
54
Brooke pounded on Stride’s door.
She wasn’t dressed for the cold, and the Point was alive with winter wind. She wrapped her thin arms around her chest and backed up to the porch steps and stared down the length of Minnesota Avenue. Down the long road leading toward the city, she saw no headlights.
Where was he?
She’d parked her Kia on one of the stubby lakeside streets, hoping he would miss it. Her face and clothes were dusted with beach sand blown down from the dunes. On the other side of the house, she heard the windblown lake roaring like a tiger.
The door to Stride’s cottage opened slowly, and she saw a policewoman in uniform, her hand close to her sidearm. She was shorter than Brooke and just as thin. The young cop’s eyes were suspicious. Brooke ran to the door, trying to untangle her blonde hair from her face.
‘Is Lieutenant Stride here? I need to talk to him right away.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m Brooke Hahne. I run the downtown shelter. Can I come inside?’
‘No one comes in.’
‘Please, just call him. Can you do that? Or call Maggie — Sergeant Bei. She’s a friend. This is urgent.’
‘What is this about?’
Brooke hesitated. ‘I just need to talk to one of them.’
Over the policewoman’s shoulder she saw Cat stroll into the living room from one of the interior bedrooms. The girl noticed her and ran to the door. ‘Brooke! What are you doing here?’
‘Hello, Cat.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I need to see Stride.’ She swallowed hard and added, ‘I–I know who’s doing this to you.’
‘You do?’ Cat tugged on the policewoman’s sleeve. ‘Let her in, please.’
‘Stride said nobody comes in,’ the cop protested.
‘I know Brooke. You can’t leave her out in the cold.’
The policewoman’s eyes traveled over Brooke’s body. It was obvious, in her blouse and skirt, that Brooke had no weapon. She’d left the knife and phone in her car. She shivered with a new gust of wind, and the cop reluctantly moved aside and let her inside the house.
‘Thank you,’ Brooke said.
‘I’m calling Sergeant Bei,’ the cop told her.
‘Yes, do that, please.’
‘Stay where I can see you, and don’t use the phone.’
‘Of course.’
Cat’s brown eyes were serious and concerned. She was as pretty as ever, with her golden face and flowing hair, but she didn’t look like a child now. She’d grown up. That was what death did to you. Cat instinctively threw her arms around Brooke in a tight hug, and Brooke felt guilty. She didn’t know if she could say what she needed to say to Cat.
It was me.
I’m the reason someone has been trying to kill you.
I’m the one who told him Margot was looking for you.
I’m the one who told him how to find you.
She couldn’t believe what she had done to protect herself. It was as if she were another person, someone from ten years ago, young and stupid. Since then, she’d tried to make her life about protecting girls like Cat, but instead her past had roared back to life, like the wind on the lake.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered in Cat’s ear.
Brooke studied Cat’s face. The girl could see her guilt. The truth couldn’t hide anymore, and Brooke was tired of keeping it concealed. Cat knew that Brooke had done this to her, but there was no blame in her eyes. Just a deep, beautiful sadness.
‘Sit with me,’ Cat said.
Brooke heard the policewoman calling Maggie. She heard Maggie’s voice in reply. Fifteen minutes. Maggie would be there in fifteen minutes. She felt equal parts fear and relief, because this was the beginning of the end. Soon enough, it would all be done. She’d be arrested; her life would be over. It didn’t matter. She felt liberated.
Cat took her hand. It was odd, the girl leading the woman. Cat wore a bulky wool sweater, jeans and cowboy boots. She pulled Brooke into the dining room and they sat down at two of the chairs pulled out from the table. They were inches apart. Cat leaned forward and put her hands on Brooke’s knees. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
Brooke felt tears slipping from her eyes. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’
‘Just talk.’
Just talk. If
only it were that simple. She thought about her parents. At least they were both gone; they wouldn’t suffer the shame of learning the truth. She wondered what would have been worse for them, to know that their daughter had been involved in crimes that led to murder, or to know that it had all started when she’d begun sleeping with rich men for money. Lenny had been the first, but not the only one. For a girl growing up with religious parents, she’d found it strange that she felt no qualms about selling her body. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. No one knew.
Until him.
Until he found out what she was doing.
‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Brooke murmured.
‘About what?’ Cat said.
‘He would have exposed me. I would have been kicked out of school. My parents — my parents would have known what I was doing. It sounds like nothing now, but back then it felt like the end of the world. All I had to do was get the code. The alarm code. That was it. He swore no one would get hurt. I figured, who cares if a rich bastard had some things stolen?’
‘Lenny?’
‘Yes. It was supposed to be easy and safe, but everything went wrong. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the news that night. His wife was dead. Shot. Murdered. Because of me. All it was supposed to be was a stupid robbery, a few thousand dollars, and instead, I was a murderer. That was it, the rest of my life ruined. It didn’t matter whether I was there. I knew they’d convict me, too.’
Brooke heard the door of the house open and the angry whistle of the wind. Maggie was here for her. She hated to face her friend, but now that she’d begun to talk, it was amazing how easily the words flowed. She’d waited a long time to unburden her soul. She remembered two years earlier when she’d spoken to inmates at the women’s correctional facility in Shakopee. It had occurred to her then that it was only a matter of time before she found herself behind those walls. She’d always known that she couldn’t hide for ever.
‘I was panicked,’ she went on, ‘but he told me it was under control. He knew someone he could set up to take the fall. I was sure that Lenny would tell the police about me, but he said he had it covered. He had some ugly pictures of Lenny with one of the other UMD girls. Sure enough, Lenny never opened his mouth. Then a few weeks later, they arrested some poor Asian boy. They found things from the burglary in his apartment. It seemed like it was all going away. I began to think no one would ever know.’
Cat bowed her head. ‘That wasn’t the end, though, was it?’
Brooke took Cat’s hands, but let them go when the girl flinched. ‘No. I’m so sorry.’
‘Why my parents?’
‘You have to believe me, Cat, I didn’t know what he planned to do. He said he couldn’t do the job himself. He needed an alibi. So he got your father to do the break-in. He never said he planned to kill him, but with Marty gone there wasn’t any way to tie it back to us. I just never, ever thought that anything would happen to your mother.’
‘She didn’t know?’ Cat asked quietly.
‘She knew nothing. She was just a victim. Like you.’
Cat got up. Her chair made a scraping noise on the floor. Brooke reached out for her, but Cat turned away. The girl stood at the dining room windows, looking through the slats of the blinds. This was the way it had to be. Cat couldn’t forgive her. No one could.
Brooke opened her mouth to explain, but the hiss of the wind in the living room was so loud that she thought it would drown out her voice. Cold air bled through the house, raising goose bumps on her skin. The uneven floor beneath her feet groaned. The entire cottage shook under the assault, as if they were swirling inside the cone of a tornado.
Something was wrong.
Brooke rushed into the living room, but the policewoman had vanished. The room was empty. The door to the porch was open, letting in the elements. The open door banged like a hammer on the wood of the window frame. Bang bang bang.
Brooke stared at the doorway. The darkness beyond froze her with fear. Her face swung to Cat. ‘We have to get out of here right now.’
She hunted for something she could use as a weapon, but it was already too late. When she looked back at the door, there he was, standing on the porch, blocking their escape. His easy smile was gone, and in its place was cold death. He had a gun in his hand as he walked into the house.
‘Where’s the girl?’ he said.
55
Stride slapped his palm against the computer monitor mounted to his dashboard. ‘Did I mention how much I hate technology?’
Serena rotated the keyboard and monitor toward herself. ‘Let me do it before you put a fist through the screen. What are you looking for?’
Stride ran his hands back through his hair. He didn’t want to believe what he suspected. ‘Bill Green says Marty beat him up in an alley near Curly’s,’ Stride said. ‘It was a couple weeks before Christmas ten years ago. I want to see if there was an incident report.’
‘Near Curly’s? That doesn’t narrow it down.’
‘Limit it to assault and gun reports,’ Stride said. ‘And check victim names against Green.’
‘What about Marty?’ Serena asked.
‘No, you won’t find him in there.’
Serena was puzzled. ‘Why not? Are you sure?’
‘I’m very sure.’
She didn’t argue, but she ran a search for both men and said, ‘There’s nothing in the system on either name in that time frame. Maybe there was no ICR.’
‘Green said the police responded. It has to be there.’
Serena took her fingers off the keyboard. ‘You want to tell me what I’m really looking for, Jonny?’
Stride felt the Expedition shudder. The wind was wild. Debris cascaded across the windshield. ‘Green said we let Marty walk,’ he said.
‘So? It sounded like a bar fight. That’s going to be a judgment call on whether the cop takes them in.’
‘Not if a gun was involved. No way we let that slide. Besides, it doesn’t matter. It was Marty Gamble.’
‘Meaning what?’ she asked.
‘Marty was on probation. He’d finally done time after he nearly killed Michaela, but he was back on the street. I was sure he was going to come after her again as soon as he had the chance. I wanted him. He was my top priority, and every one of my cops knew it. They knew his name. They knew his face. If he so much as took a leak against the side of a building I wanted him hauled in so we could get him revoked. If we could have nailed him for assault — with a handgun! — he would have been busted back for the rest of his time and probably another couple of years. The cop who brought him to me would have been a hero. I would have pinned a medal on his chest.’
‘No one did,’ Serena said.
‘No one did. Marty never hit the system.’
‘So Green’s lying. Or he never admitted that Marty was the one who beat him up.’
Stride said nothing.
Serena looked at him and her face darkened as she realized where his mind was taking him. ‘Or you had a bad cop,’ she said.
He pointed at the screen. She scrolled through the ten-year-old incident reports in silence, and he waited. It was still possible that Green had made up the story. It was still possible he’d kept quiet about Marty out of fear for his cousin’s retribution. But Stride didn’t think so. This was worse. This was one of his own. Someone inside would have known that Marty could be leveraged to do just about anything to stay out of jail. Someone inside would have known about Fong Dao’s burglary record. Someone inside would have known how to stage a murder-suicide without raising any questions.
‘December sixteen,’ Serena said. ‘There was a 911 call about an assault in progress. The time and location fit.’
‘How was it resolved?’ he asked.
‘That’s what’s odd. It came in as assault but the report was converted to drunk and disorderly, accidental injuries. No info on an assailant, no ID on the vic, definitely no gun. According to the follow-up, the vic declined medical treatment and disappea
red. That’s it. Incident closed.’ She added, ‘This might not be the right report.’
‘Who responded?’ Stride asked. He thought: This was the call. Marty assaulted Bill Green. Someone buried it.
‘Do you remember your officer codes from ten years ago?’
‘No, but the table should be in the system.’
Serena clicked on the code. He watched her close her eyes. Her breath left her chest.
‘Who?’ he said softly.
‘It was Ken McCarty,’ she told him.
*
‘I’m nearly at your place,’ Maggie told Stride as she sped down the Point in the Corvette. ‘Brooke’s waiting there.’
‘Mags,’ he said.
She knew in the tone of his voice that something was very wrong.
She listened to him talk.
She listened to what he said.
She didn’t react. When he was done, she simply said, ‘Understood,’ and hung up the phone, cutting him off in mid-sentence.
Ken McCarty.
Her lover. Her friend. The baby cop she’d hired. Ken was dirty. Worse than dirty.
It was odd, how calm she felt at the news. How none of her emotions churned. She saw it for what it was; she’d been seduced and conned. There was no coincidence in Ken showing up in her office, no accident in his inviting her to dinner and charming his way into her bed. She was his pipeline. He was in town hunting for Cat, and he was using his old boss to keep tabs on what the police knew.
She’d let a bad cop, a thief and a murderer, fool her with his lies. She’d had wild sex with the very man she was hunting.
Still she felt nothing. Not anger. Not shame. She was dead inside. There was only one thing to do.
Find him.
Maggie dialed his cell phone, but the call went to voice mail. He’d turned it off to avoid the footprints of cell towers tracking him through the state. She knew what that meant. He wasn’t in Minneapolis anymore; he’d followed her north. He’d been going back and forth between the two cities for days, hiding out in a cold garage and driving a stolen black Charger.
Hunting. Killing.
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