“I must be losing it. Totally spaced out why you came.” She went through the litany of what Jeff had told her about the I-90 murders.
“Does that mean they’ll be going after him for Maren’s murder when they find him?” There was such a note of hopefulness in Dave’s voice that Deidre hated to tell him this probably wasn’t the man. She did anyway.
“But they’re pretty sure they can find him, right?” Dave was perspiring more than usual. Chasing errant throws and batting the ball wasn’t easy for someone who held a sedentary job, Deidre thought.
“They’re pretty confident they’ll have him in custody in a few days, at least if they get a break or two. Jeff said he would stay in touch.”
“What will happen if they catch him?”
Deidre was beginning to be a little exasperated with questions for which she didn’t have answers. “I don’t know for sure. Depends on a lot of things. I just know things will play out. They always do.” She looked at her watch. “You’d better get going or you’re not going to be home early like you wanted. It was great having you with us. Don’t be a stranger.”
They had been talking beside Dave’s car, and as he got in he asked, “Will you call me as soon as you find out anything, about that guy, I mean? I have to know what happens.”
Chapter
Seventeen
LESS THAN A WEEK PASSED before Jeff called. He asked if he could come out and speak with them when Ben got home, said he wanted them together when he told them the news. Deidre wanted to blurt out the question, “Did they catch him?” but she didn’t, and Jeff didn’t volunteer.
They were waiting for him when he arrived. Ben and she had talked it over, and they decided to include the boys in all conversations from now on. They had as much right as anyone to know the facts.
“Can I get you anything to drink, Jeff?” Deidre asked. He said ice water would be fine. Didn’t want to spoil his appetite for supper, said they were having his favorite, pot roast.
Deidre placed the water glass on the table next to his chair, and Jeff began to fill them in on what he knew.
“I told you about the serial murders that were happening along I-90. They caught the guy who was committing them in Billings, Montana. That’s more than good. He’s one messed-up person who wasn’t going to stop his rampage until he was stopped. Funny thing, he didn’t put up any resistance when he was captured. Kind of gave in without a whimper.” He took a drink of the water while the family waited expectantly.
“Unfortunately, we’re certain he isn’t the one who took Maren.” Jeff could see everyone deflate, as though someone had pulled a stopper out and let all of their energy escape. “He’s a very messed-up guy. He waived his right to remain silent or to have an attorney present while he made a statement. He immediately began to confess, beginning with the crime in Boston and following the I-90 corridor west. But he had nothing to say about stopping in Minnesota.”
Deidre broke into Jeff ’s monologue. “Was he asked specifically about Maren?”
“The interrogators let him talk, and he led them along the murder trail case by case, giving details about each abduction that only the police and he would have known. He said nothing about Maren. When asked, he said he had driven straight through Minnesota, stopping once for gas. Inexplicably, he kept all of the receipts of his journey—every restaurant, every gas station, every motel. In the pile of receipts, one from a gas station in a little burg, Beaver Creek, was the only record of his being in Minnesota. They asked about Two Harbors, and he said he never left I-90. Had he driven to the North Shore, he would have had to buy gas up here.”
Ben wanted to know what the murderer’s motive was for going on a killing spree.
“He said he was bored and wanted to see how far he could get before he was caught. If he had made it to Seattle, he intended to leave a suicide note and kill himself. Like I said, he’s a real crazy. As to what makes him tick, some psychiatrist will have a field day with that. Probably will get rich by writing a book about what he thinks he discovers.”
Jeff drained the glass. The ice cubes stuck to the bottom, then came loose, causing water to splash down his front.
“Damn, that always happens,” he complained as he tried to dry himself off with a napkin. “Well, folks, I gotta get going. Sorry the news isn’t better, but there will be other leads along the way, be sure of that. Take care.”
Deidre, Ben, and the boys watched him walk to his SUV, its door stenciled LAKE COUNTY SHERIFF.
“I thought for sure this was going to be the end of everything, that he’d tell us where to find Maren,” Deidre sighed. “Well, supper’s ready. Let’s eat.” Deidre led the way to the kitchen.
Chapter
Eighteen
THE SAME EVENING JEFF brought them news of the serial rapist and murderer being apprehended, Deidre called Dave, but he didn’t answer. She left a message on his answering machine simply stating that Jeff had been to visit with news of the I-90 killer. She and Ben had been in bed for a half hour, reading, as was their custom, when her phone rang. She glanced at the red digital numbers of the clock radio, which read 11:32 p.m.
Her heart leaped to her throat, and her first thought was that something had happened to Megan. Deidre sprang out of bed, beating Ben to the phone.
“Hello,” she answered anxiously, not taking time to look at the caller ID. Ben heard her say, “Oh, hi, Dave,” with a mixture of relief and exasperation in her tone. “Yeah. Yeah he was here. . . . Yes, they did. . . . He more or less gave himself up. . . . No, they’re quite sure he’s not the one. . . . Well, he confessed to all the murders along I-90, but denied any involvement with Maren. . . . Yes, they do. . . . The puzzle pieces just don’t fit together. . . . I suppose so. . . . Good night, Dave.”
“What did he want?” Ben asked, trying to calm himself after the dash out of bed.
“I called him earlier and left a message saying that Jeff had been here with news. I didn’t expect Dave to react with such urgency. He wondered if they were sure the killer hadn’t had anything to do with Maren’s disappearance. He sounded pretty bummed that enforcement believed him when he said he hadn’t been to Two Harbors. I think Dave wanted him to be the killer and put an end to all this wondering.” She looked at herself in the wall mirror before coming back to bed. “I suppose we all want some answers. It would make it a lot easier.”
It was too late to read any more, and they turned out the light. Deidre realized she was too wide awake to fall asleep and contemplated getting up. She rolled on her side and curled into a semi-fetal position. Ben spooned behind her and put his arm around her chest, pulling her close to him. She decided not to get up.
*****
THE DAYS PASSED, and Deidre was adjusting to the new normal. Dave came for supper once every other week or so, usually on Wednesday or Thursday. The first time after his late-night call, he seemed agitated and questioned if the law enforcement units involved in the I-90 case were doing a thorough job. Deidre and Ben pointed out the discrepancies between the abductions of the other women and Maren’s disappearance.
First, all of the women’s bodies, except for Maren’s, had been found a short time after their disappearance. The killer made no effort to conceal evidence such as DNA. Besides hair and fiber samples, he had even left teeth marks on their necks. Near several of the victims, he had left wads of chewing gum containing his saliva. Whoever had driven Maren’s car into the woods had wiped it clean. There wasn’t a speck of evidence left, an indication that her abduction was carefully planned and covered up.
Then, too, each of the known murders had taken place no more than a couple of miles off I-90. Two Harbors was at least a three-hour drive from the freeway. That didn’t fit the pattern at all.
Finally, the killer made no effort to hide the victims’ cars. Jeff suspected that if Maren hadn’t been killed in her vehicle, at the very least her body was transported in it to wherever it had been disposed of. After that evening, Dave didn’t bring
up the topic of the I-90 killer again.
Deidre and Ben got together with Megan at least twice a week, and their visits began to form a pattern. During the week, Deidre would drive into Duluth and let the boys go to the Sports Arena, where they could take turns in a batting cage, shoot baskets, even get involved in a pick-up game. While they were occupied, she’d visit the antique shops nearby.
They’d go to Megan’s for supper, usually take-out that she supplied, and Ben would meet them there. Most Saturdays, Megan came home, staying until late the next day, when she returned to Duluth and her job. They attended church together on Sunday, and had brunch at the resort where Maren worked before she disappeared. It was good to visit with a couple of waitresses who had been her friends. The rhythm was comforting to Deidre—no surprises.
There were days she almost forgot what the family was facing, days when the joy of her flower garden returned, days when she was happy.
All that changed on the morning Jeff called. She could tell by the strain in his voice that something had happened.
Chapter
Nineteen
“DEIDRE, THIS IS JEFF.” Deidre almost made a wisecrack, asking him if he thought she couldn’t read her caller ID, but something in his voice, a quaver or a hitch, something made her swallow the words.
“Deidre, we might have a break in Maren’s case.” Her guts immediately twisted and she felt her knees go weak.
“What is it, Jeff? Tell me.” She was sure he was going to say that Maren’s body had been found.
“A guy who owns a hunting shack up the Clark Road found a body this morning. I haven’t been out there yet. He just left my office. I’ve got a deputy on his way to secure the area. From what the shack owner told me, I think he might have found Jake Burns, the registered sex offender who is missing. You and I have been friends for a long time, Deidre, and I have the utmost respect for your abilities as an investigator. I’m asking if you’d come with me to the scene. For one thing, I’d like you there to be able to identify anything that might belong to Maren. I sure will understand if you don’t want to go, though.”
By that time Deidre had regained her sense of balance, and her heart rate had settled down to near normal. “No, I’d like to come with. Okay if it takes me twenty minutes or so to make arrangement for the boys? I can meet you in the parking lot of the Center.”
“From what I’ve been told, this guy isn’t going anywhere. The shack owner was pretty shook up by what he found. See you when you get to town.”
Deidre quickly called her in-laws. It was decided they would bring the twins home before suppertime, and would also prepare a meal for the evening. On the way into town she dialed Ben’s number and let him in on what Jeff had said, and where she was going. His only response was to thank her for having the courage to face the new evidence.
After Deidre dropped the boys off at their grandparents’ house, she headed straight for the Law Enforcement Center’s parking lot. Jeff was waiting, leaning on his sheriff’s vehicle. In seconds they were on the road.
“Deidre, you’ve been a good friend for a long time,” Jeff said. “Maybe my best friend, and you’ve been a lot of help to me with your advice and insight. I think I have to level with you on one thing.”
Deidre looked at her friend, a little anxious about what he would say next.
“I know you are really fond of Dave. I picked up on how you were sure he wasn’t responsible, and that’s why I didn’t tell you that we were looking closely at him. In fact, Dave was our primary suspect.”
Deidre squirmed in her seat, not knowing how to respond and wondering where the conversation was leading. Fortunately, Jeff didn’t wait for her to say anything.
“We checked at her workplace, the resort where she was waitressing. The first co-worker we talked to told us that Maren had shown up for work one day about three weeks before she disappeared with a swollen jaw, as if she had been hit in the face. I was ready to go after Dave then. Do you remember her having any injuries or bruises about that time?”
Deidre shook her head, trying to remember. “You know, we hadn’t been together much leading up to the day Dave called, wondering if I had seen her. I guess with the boys finishing up the school year, Megan finishing her semester at UMD, and all the things going on in our lives, we just didn’t get together as often as we used to. Do you really believe Dave would have hit Maren?”
“I was certain of it,” Jeff confessed. “But then I interviewed another employee. The day before Maren showed up with the swollen jaw, she and this other lady had been carrying some boxes down the stairs of the restaurant to the lobby of the hotel. Maren tripped and fell down three steps to the landing midway between floors. She hurt her elbow and wrist when she landed. The next day when she showed up for work, her jaw was swollen. Maren said her face had hit the wall when she fell and that her cheek swelled up overnight. I checked with the complex manager, and he pulled out an accident report from the day she fell. He was afraid she had broken a bone in her arm and wanted her to go to the hospital to have it checked out. Maren declined, told him she would be fine.”
“Do you think Dave beat her?”
“That’s why I’m telling you this. I checked with various medical people, and they all told me the same thing. If one part of the body is injured more severely, in this case Maren’s wrist, than another injury, the lesser, often doesn’t register. I asked about the delayed swelling, and they told me that happens quite frequently, especially in fleshy areas where blood has room to pool before the tissue expands. They said that can be true of the cheek area. Believe me, I checked out the story as closely as I could, and nothing traced back to Dave. I’d be surprised if Dave had anything to do with Maren’s disappearance. Some evidence would have turned up by now if he was involved.”
Deidre felt a wave of relief flood over her. She had thoughts about Dave’s involvement from the beginning, nagging thoughts she didn’t want, and now she could lay them to rest, at least as much as possible.
Because of their deep conversation, the ride went much faster than Deidre had expected. When she began to pay attention to where they were, Jeff was turning onto a haul road that led to one of the many county gravel pits. The road ran along the Gooseberry River, and from time to time, through the balsam and birch trees, she caught glimpses of sunlight on water. Jeff parked his SUV near a small mountain of class-five gravel the county had stockpiled, and Deidre could see the tracks of all-terrain vehicles that had driven up its steep slopes. A deputy’s squad was parked nearby, along with a car she didn’t recognize.
“We have to walk from here. The guy who built the shack wanted it to be secluded. He told me he hauled all the timbers in during a summer dry spell. Too bad this happened. It’s a pretty nice place, as far as hunting shacks go.”
They followed a path through the woods that twisted and turned around stumps and boulders, crossed a makeshift bridge made from two railroad ties bridging a rivulet, and came upon a snowmobile trail.
“Only another hundred yards from here,” Jeff said. Deidre was puffing. She wasn’t a young chick any longer.
As they approached the building, Deidre could see what Jeff meant about its construction. The shack was built of six-by-six timbers, each eight feet long. They were laid one layer on top of another, Lincoln-Log style, the corners alternating so the upper level overlapped the one below. Some of the logs were not quite as large, so when they had been slabbed, a few rounded edges remained, giving the cabin the appearance of having been built with a broadaxe.
The shack was small, probably big enough for a couple sets of bunk beds, a small barrel stove, and a table. A deck nearly the size of the building projected toward a small steam that ran in front of it. It looked to Deidre that the whole structure was built of peeled timbers and rough-sawed logs. It fit perfectly with its surroundings.
The deputy and another man were standing away from the shack, and as she and Jeff approached, Deidre recognized only the deputy.
&
nbsp; “Hi, Jeff,” the coroner called out. “Good to see you again. How’s it goin’?” The informal atmosphere struck Deidre as being rather unusual, but she figured the coroner had seen about everything during his career and couldn’t be shocked easily.
“Oh, pretty good,” Jeff answered. The coroner was new in town, replacing the previous person to hold that office. Deidre didn’t recognize him.
“Jim,” Jeff said to him, “This is Deidre Johnson. She was sheriff before I got elected. She’s one heck of a law enforcement officer. Hope you don’t mind that I invited her to come along.” Jim extended his hand and assured them that Deidre was welcome. “What do you have here?” Jeff asked.
The coroner tilted his head toward the shack. “Not pretty, that’s for sure. I don’t think we’re looking at foul play, though. Take a look for yourself.” Deidre trailed the pair as they trudged up to the deck. The door was open, and Deidre was revolted by the stench before she came close enough to look inside. By Jeff ’s reaction, she wasn’t sure she wanted to look.
Deidre looked inside from the porch. The shack had an open ceiling with two five-inch peeled-log stringers tying the walls together. The walls were hardly seven feet high, so the stringers weren’t much more than that. Deidre covered her mouth and nose with a scented tissue.
“Looks like a suicide to me,” the coroner opined from just inside the doorway. “Course, we’ll know more after an autopsy, but it looks like he hung himself. I think he stood on that stool and cinched the rope tight to the support, then kicked the stool away. If he’d been a little taller, his feet would have touched the floor. No, I think he was determined to kill himself, for whatever reason.” He shook his head.
Jeff turned to Deidre. “See anything that might be a link to Maren?” Deidre shook her head. “Well, if you’re up to it, let’s go inside and look around. Doubt if we’ll find anything, but it would be best if we take a look.”
An Iron Fist, Two Harbors Page 7