by Tami Hoag
“Fuck yourself, MacGowan!” Kovac shouted. “You lost a judge. You let some mutt waltz out of here with the one person you’re supposed to be protecting! You’re gonna be a fucking crossing guard when this is over!”
“Gentlemen?” Lieutenant Dawes walked into the room. Her voice was calm, and such a contrast to Kovac’s that everyone took notice immediately. “Officers, wait in the hall, please. I’ll deal with you later.”
Bloom couldn’t get out fast enough. MacGowan lingered, giving Kovac attitude.
Kovac shook his head. “Go sharpen your pencil, asshole. You’ll be writing up jaywalkers till your teeth fall out.”
MacGowan made an angry gesture and walked away.
“Detective Kovac?” Dawes said.
Kovac continued huffing and puffing, pacing back and forth. “I can’t fucking believe this!”
“Sam, get a hold of yourself.” Dawes put herself in his path so that he had to pull up.
When he spoke, he lowered his voice to just below a shout. “How the hell could this happen? Cops here around the clock. The place locked down like a fortress. And someone just drives out of here with Carey Moore? Is this a fucking joke?”
“I don’t think anyone is laughing,” Dawes said. “And we should all get out our umbrellas, because there is going to be a shitstorm raining down on us from on high soon enough. I’ve already had a call from Assistant Chief Harding. There’s a mob of media outside. In the meantime, we need to get our ducks in a row and figure out what’s really happened here.”
Kovac rubbed his hands over his face and sighed, trying to will his blood pressure down. “I was here until about nine last night.”
“Doing what?”
He looked away, looked back, uncomfortable. “She told me she was going to ask her husband for a divorce. I wanted to be here in case the jerk flipped.”
Dawes lifted a brow. “How very chivalrous of you.”
“The guy is a creep, leading some kind of a double life,” Kovac said, scowling. “I didn’t want to take the chance.”
“Where did you go from here?”
“I followed the husband.”
“We had a tail on him to do that.”
“I wanted to rattle his cage,” Kovac said. “He has an apartment in Edina where he’s set up his girlfriend.”
“I’ve already checked with the officers who were here last night,” Dawes said. “They said the nanny left around ten-thirty to go to the 7-Eleven.”
“Did she tell them that specifically?”
“Yes. She backed out of the driveway, slowed as she came near their car, put down her window, and told them what she was doing.”
“Did they speak to her when she came back?”
“No. They were walking the perimeter of the property.”
“Dumb and Dumber out there in the hall said she backed out of the driveway around seven this morning, said the word ‘coffee,’ and drove away.”
“How close were they to her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she drive away from them or past them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you think the nanny could have done this?” Dawes asked.
Kovac thought about it for a moment. “I would say no. She seemed devoted to the family. But she is very protective of David Moore. She didn’t like me implying he could have had his wife attacked. They seemed a little too cozy when they came back from having breakfast yesterday. I asked her point-blank if she had something going on with him.”
“And?”
“And she denied it, but she didn’t want to look at me when she said it.”
“Do you think she could have done it?” Dawes asked again.
He tried to imagine Anka overpowering Carey.
“Physically could she do it? Probably. She’s young, looks athletic. She’s taller than Carey. And Carey was in no condition to fight,” he said. “And if the girl had a weapon-”
“Or if she didn’t have to struggle with her victim,” Dawes said.
Kovac knew what she was saying. If Carey was already dead, Anka would have had to struggle only with her employer’s corpse. She wouldn’t have had to be careful about it. Shove the body down the stairs, drag it down the hall and out through the kitchen and into the garage.
Kovac called over the lead of the crime scene people and told him to check the stairs for hair, blood, and tissue.
“I haven’t seen any blood,” he said to Dawes. “I guess she could have cleaned up.”
“We don’t know that she didn’t have help,” Dawes said. “When she left last night, she might have picked up an accomplice along with her movie and popcorn.”
Kovac sat back against the edge of David Moore’s desk and crossed his arms, thinking.
“If she had an accomplice, why would she leave the house this morning?” he asked. “It would make more sense to stay behind, play the victim.”
“Not everyone has the sly, conniving mind you do.”
“It’s a gift.”
“Possibilities other than the nanny?” Dawes asked.
“The house was locked tight,” Kovac said. “The alarm system was set. Of course, Moore would have given up the code if he sent someone here to do the job.”
He thought about that for a minute. “That’s some balls to go through with a kidnapping when the cops are already all over you like a bad rash. Moore doesn’t have a set like that; that’s for sure. He nearly pissed himself when I confronted him last night.”
“It doesn’t take much nerve at all to hire out the job,” Dawes said. “And he gave himself an alibi. He couldn’t have come back here last night without us knowing about it. The tail would have followed him over here.”
“We have to get a handle on the mystery man from the bar,” Kovac said. “If I could get Ginnie Bird alone, I’d scare a name out of her in three seconds.”
“And we still have Stan Dempsey running around,” Dawes said.
Kovac shrugged. “Why would Stan grab the nanny? Why wouldn’t he just tie her up, tape her mouth shut, and leave? He’s got no beef with the nanny. It doesn’t matter to him if she’s a witness. He’s not trying to be anonymous.”
“Where’s my daughter?” The demand came from the front hall. David Moore.
Kovac looked hard at Dawes. “You called him?”
“He’s the little girl’s father, Sam.”
“He’s a suspect!”
“We have nothing linking him to this or to the attack in the parking ramp.”
“Kate Quinn is here. She can take care of Lucy,” Kovac said. “Kate has experience with both kids and crime victims. And it turns out she knows the family.”
“That’s not the protocol,” Dawes said calmly.
“Fuck the protocol!”
Out in the hall, David Moore raised his voice. “I damn well will come into my own home!”
“I’m sorry, sir. This is a crime scene.”
Dawes went out into the hall. “It’s all right, Officer Potts. Mr. Moore, could you please join me in your den?”
Moore stepped past the uniform, drawing a bead on the lieutenant. “What the hell is going on? Where’s my daughter? Is she hurt?”
“Mr. Moore, I’m Lieutenant Dawes. Your daughter hasn’t suffered any physical injuries. I need you to calm down and understand what’s going on here before you see her.”
“I don’t care what you need, Lieutenant,” Moore said. He was red in the face and breathing hard. “I want to see my child.”
“Yeah,” Kovac cracked. “Here’s the fucking father of the year. Had to get out of bed with his prostitute girlfriend to come to his daughter’s aid.”
Dawes gave him a look. “Detective…”
Moore turned purple. “I want him off this case!” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Kovac. “I want him charged with harassment and brutality! He put his hands on me-”
Kovac rolled his eyes. “I never touched him.”
Dawes positioned herself
between them and said to Moore, “Come with me, Mr. Moore. I’m sure your daughter will be happy to see you. She’s been through quite a trauma.”
“You’re certain she isn’t hurt?”
“She isn’t hurt, but she’s very upset. We don’t know what she might have seen or heard.”
“Oh, my God,” Moore breathed, following Dawes through the house to the family room.
Kovac hung back a few steps. David Moore hadn’t asked a single question about what had happened. He hadn’t expressed any interest in what might be happening to his wife.
Lucy had curled herself into a little ball on Kate Quinn’s lap. Kate held her tight and rocked her slowly back and forth.
Prior to Kate’s arrival, Lucy had clung to Kovac like a limpet, refusing to leave his arms for the EMT who had come to look her over for injuries. She had kept her little face pressed against his neck, sobbing. It had surprised him how emotionally difficult it had been for him to let go of her. He felt an obligation to protect her, to make her feel safe.
Now Moore rushed across the room. “Lucy!”
He hit his knees as the child climbed down and raced into his arms, the tears coming again on a new wave of hysteria.
Kate rose from the sofa, five feet nine inches of gorgeous legs, and a head of lush red hair. Kovac had known her for years, had had a crush on her most of that time. They didn’t come any more no-nonsense than Kate. She looked down at David Moore like he was turd on the carpet.
“She was calming down,” she said.
“Has she said anything about what happened?” Kovac asked.
Kate shook her head as she walked over to him with her arms crossed. Kovac recognized the look. She was pissed off. He wondered how much Carey might have confided in her regarding her marriage.
“She hasn’t said a word,” Kate said softly. “I wouldn’t count on her talking about this for a long time.”
“Do you think she witnessed the abduction?”
“Part of it, anyway. She’s terrified. This isn’t just about waking up and not finding anybody home.”
“We need to know what she knows,” Kovac said. “And I don’t want Moore anywhere near her when we ask those questions. In fact, I don’t want Moore anywhere near her, period.”
“Me neither,” Kate said. “But he is her father. Whatever else David might be, he is good at that. I’m sure Lucy will want to stay with him.”
Kovac looked to Dawes. “How are we supposed to get an answer out of her with Moore right there? He’s at the top of the suspect list, for God’s sake.”
“We can’t question a child without a parent or guardian present,” Dawes insisted.
“Don’t you need David to stay here in case there’s a ransom call?” Kate asked.
“Absolutely,” Kovac said.
She nodded and went back over to Moore, who was rocking his daughter back and forth as she cried. She knelt down beside them and started speaking quietly.
“David, things are going to stay crazy here all day, and probably beyond that. And I know the police are going to need you to be here in case there’s a call from the kidnappers. Why don’t I take Lucy to my house? She’ll be in a safe, familiar environment. Maybe she’ll be able to get some rest.”
Kovac tipped his head toward Dawes. “I guess that’s one way to do it.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Kicking his ass.”
41
“HE HASN’T ASKED one question about his wife,” Kovac said. “She could be in the basement, carved up like a Halloween pumpkin, for all he knows. If he’s an innocent man, don’t you think he would have shown a little concern by now?”
“Innocent?” Liska said. “How about just plain decent?”
“How about human?” Kovac said.
The task force had gathered in the Moores ’ formal dining room, a change of venue made necessary by the morning’s events. With Dawes and Kovac already on scene to deal with the chaos, it had seemed easier for the rest of the crew to come to them.
The room was a far cry from their war room at headquarters. Instead of commercial carpet, white walls, long tables loaded with files and notes, they had something out of a home decor magazine. Antiques, mahogany, china, crystal. A room the family rarely used, by the look of it.
David Moore was on the other side of the house, sitting in the den with a phone gadget specialist who had been volunteered by the BCA (the state Bureau of Criminal Apprehension), waiting for a ransom call no one really expected to come.
Lieutenant Dawes gave Kovac a warning look. “Rein yourself in, Detective.”
“What?” Kovac snapped as he paced back and forth at one end of the table. “He’s a suspect, even if we know his whereabouts last night. He can cry ‘harassment’ all he wants. It doesn’t change the fact that investigations into abductions are always two-pronged: outside the family and inside the family.”
“I know how investigations are run,” Dawes said. “But you are not going to be the one in his face.”
“Why not?” Kovac demanded. “I’m the one that’s been poking at him from the start. He’s off balance with me already. It’s not going to take that much more to tip him over the edge. He loses his temper, he’ll say something he shouldn’t. He’s not smart enough to keep his cool.”
“Neither are you,” Liska said, raising chuckles around the table.
“He’s smart enough that he’s managed to live a secret life under the nose of one of the sharpest prosecuting attorneys I’ve ever known,” Chris Logan said.
Logan had joined the team, making himself available to help with warrants or anything else the detectives needed. He looked as wired as Kovac felt. He had pulled his power tie loose and unbuttoned the neck of his shirt. He was pacing too.
“He hasn’t seen me yet,” Logan said. “He’s going to think we’ve upped the ante, involving the prosecutor’s office. Let me and Kovac speak to him together.”
Dawes sighed. “He’s not under arrest. Be careful what you ask and how you ask him.”
Logan arched an eyebrow. “That’s usually my line.”
“Can we get warrants?” Kovac asked. “I want his financials. And I want to toss that den and the girlfriend’s apartment.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Logan said.
“Have we forgotten our strange little colleague who’s running around performing his own personal version of The Scarlet Letter?” Tippen asked dryly. “Our man Stan left his intentions on videotape.”
“But how does Dempsey get in the house?” Elwood asked. “How does he get past the security system?”
“When did he become a blond woman?” Liska asked. “That’s who pulled out of here this morning: a blond woman.”
“Even in a wig, even from a distance, nobody is going to mistake Stan Dempsey for a woman,” Dawes said.
“So we’re back to thinking it was the nanny driving out of here this morning?” Logan asked.
“Blonde in a Saab,” Liska said.
Kovac stopped his pacing, his brow knitting. “The guy who joined Moore and his girlfriend and Edmund Ivors Friday night at the Marquette. He’s blond, slender, fine features.”
He turned back to Dawes. “Did you get the security tape from the bar?”
“It’s at the station.”
“But if he’s the hired gun,” Liska said, “where’s the nanny? The cops outside saw one woman in the car.”
“So he took the nanny too?” Tippen said. “Why?”
“I still say if the nanny was involved, she would have been smarter to stay here,” Kovac said. “Why draw suspicion?”
“If she acted alone, she wouldn’t have had any choice,” Dawes said.
“But then what?” Liska asked. “If she made off with the judge, dumped the body somewhere, she can’t exactly come cruising in here and tell us she’s been at Starbucks all this time. How does she ever come back here?”
“Maybe she doesn’t,” Elwood said. “She’s Swedish; she’s got a pas
sport. Say she dumps the judge, hops a plane to wherever, and David Moore joins her after the furor has died down. After he’s gotten his hands on Judge Moore’s money.”
“Well, there’s one good way to find out,” Logan said. He looked at Kovac and tipped his head toward the closed dining room door.
“Okay,” Dawes said. “You two go that route. Elwood, Tippen, go back to the station, get on the phones, and call all the airlines. See if this girl booked herself a flight somewhere.
“Nikki, do you still think the Haas boy and his friend might be connected to this?”
Liska shrugged. “I don’t know. Assaulting the judge in the parking ramp was one thing. Could Bobby Haas mastermind a kidnapping as slick as this one? Seems unlikely.”
Dawes nodded. “And what would his motive be for doing something this risky?”
“To get the Dahl trial handed over to another judge,” Liska suggested. “Some hang-’em-high type.”
“We have one of those?” Elwood asked, puzzled.
“Any word on the father of the dead foster children?” Dawes asked.
Liska nodded. “The reason we couldn’t find Ethan Pratt is that he’s enjoying the hospitality of our brethren in St. Paul. Another bar fight.”
“Another Dallas Cowboys fan?” Tippen asked.
“ New York Yankees.”
“I’m with the lieutenant,” Kovac said impatiently. “It doesn’t make sense the Haas kid would risk so much. Even if he is bent on getting Karl Dahl convicted.”
“And what about Karl Dahl?” Elwood asked. “Do we consider him for this?”
“Why would he want to harm Carey-Judge Moore?” Logan corrected himself. “Her ruling went in his favor. And how would he know how to get into this house? Why would he risk it with cops sitting right out front and every law enforcement officer in the metro area hunting him?”
“He’s not exactly a model of mental health and stability,” Tippen reminded them. “Who knows what strange creatures live in the depths of his psyche? Why would he butcher a woman and two small children? Who can explain that?”
“My money’s still on the husband,” Kovac said, heading for the door. “Let’s go crack him like a soft-boiled egg.”