The Heavens May Fall

by Allen Eskens

  Also in the envelope was a letter. He pulled the letter out and opened it. The letter held three short sentences in simple type, but the words of those three sentences burned him as though the paper itself had somehow caught fire. He dropped the letter and stepped back. His heart pounded in his chest. His hands and fingers trembled.

  The letter lay open on the counter where he’d dropped it. Something inside of him refused to believe what he’d seen. He went to pick it up again but stopped. It might have DNA or fingerprints on it. He stood over the letter and read it again.

  Your wife’s death wasn’t an accident. She was murdered. Here’s the proof.

  Chapter 29

  Boady was staring at a blank yellow sheet of paper on his legal pad when the doorbell rang. He’d been looking at that page since just after supper, waiting for an idea to come to him, some brilliant thought that would allow him to derail the grand-jury process. He welcomed the doorbell, the distraction from his clogged brain. It didn’t matter that it was almost nine o’clock, a time of night that Diana always said was too late for visitors.

  Boady opened the door to find Ben and Emma Pruitt on his porch. Ben had his eyes fixed on Summit Avenue, looking one way, then the other. “Can we come in?” he said before Boady could offer.

  “Of course,” Boady said and stepped aside.

  Ben walked into the front room and put Emma on the couch. “Can you stay here for just a bit, sweetie? I need to talk to Mr. Sanden for a minute.”

  Emma nodded without saying a word.

  Ben nodded toward Boady’s office and the two went there, and Ben closed the door.

  “What’s going on, Ben?”

  “I’m not sure, but I think something’s happened.”

  Boady took his seat behind the desk, and Ben opposite him. “We went to the house tonight. We hadn’t been there since Jennavieve died. We’ve been staying up at the cabin. But Emma needed clothes and I needed some stuff. The crime-scene tape wasn’t up. We could have been living there if we wanted, but, I just couldn’t.”

  Boady saw the shake in Ben’s hands and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you,” Ben said. “I thought that since we were in the neighborhood it might be nice for Emma to spend some time with her friend, Catie Kolander. She’s a neighbor. So I parked in the driveway, as usual. We loaded our things and got the car packed. Then we walked down to the Kolander house. I spent the evening with Catie’s mom, Terry, and her husband, Bob, while Emma and Catie played.”

  Ben looked over his shoulder, through the glass of the French doors to where Emma sat on the couch. “I’ve been so worried about her. I thought it would be nice for her to have just one evening of normalcy. Just a few hours with a friend, like before.”

  “Did something happen to Emma?”

  “No, I’m sorry. We had a perfectly nice evening. The Kolanders have always been very nice to me and to Emma. But when we left, we were walking back to our house. I saw a police squad car in front of the house. I crossed the street to get a better view and saw a second squad car in the driveway. Two officers were at the front door. Two others were standing back a ways, in the driveway. They had their guns drawn.”

  “What?”

  “I’m sure of it, the two in the driveway had their guns out of the holster and the two at the door had hands on their grips. Then a third squad pulls up and parks in the street.”

  “What’d you do?”

  “I casually took Emma around the corner and watched from a distance. Pretty soon, I heard some yelling and then they broke through the front door and went in.”

  “What were they yelling?”

  “I couldn’t hear the words, but it looked to me like they were executing an arrest warrant. They must have spotted the car and figured we were there.”

  Boady stood and turned to look out the window behind his desk. He saw no suspicious activity, no squad cars, no unmarked cars.

  “How did you get here?”

  “I took Emma down to the soccer field nearby and called a taxi.”

  “You never heard them actually say ‘arrest warrant,’ did you?”

  “No.”

  “So as far as I’m concerned, you and Emma are my guests. You will be spending the night here.”

  “Let’s assume that those cops were there to execute an arrest warrant—”

  “Then the grand jury has come back with a true bill, and you’ve been indicted for murder. That’s the most logical assumption.”

  Ben began to shake. His breath puffed in short spurts. “How . . . I don’t understand. I wasn’t even in Minneapolis. They know that. What’s going on?”

  “They must know something we don’t.”

  “What the hell could they possibly know? I didn’t kill my wife. They can’t know anything because there’s not anything to know. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen, I was in fucking Chicago.” Ben’s voice rose and Boady could see Diana on the other side of the French doors; she was sitting with Emma but looking at the office.

  “Calm down, Ben. Emma needs you to keep it together. I need you to keep it together. We don’t know that you’ve been indicted. We’ll walk you down there tomorrow. If we’re wrong, then all this worrying is for nothing.”

  “And if we’re not wrong? If they indicted me for murder?”

  Boady sat back down. “Well, that’s what we’ve been preparing for.” He tried to offer a reassuring smile. “You know the old saying, a grand jury will indict a ham sandwich. If that is the case and you’ve been indicted, we walk you down to the police station on our terms. And we’re not going in until Monday. No sense spending the weekend in jail before we get to see a judge. We’ll check it out first thing Monday. No photographers. No press. We walk in with our heads high. They still have to prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt. That’s the battle we’ve been preparing for.”

  “They’ll hold me over for a bail hearing.”

  “We’ll get you in and out as fast as possible.”

  “And what if the judge denies bail?”

  Boady stopped talking and just looked at Ben for a few seconds, long enough for Ben to realize that he already knew the answer. If he can’t make bail, he’ll sit in a jail cell and watch the clock tick away until he goes to trial.

  “You know the worst-case scenario, Ben. We need to go make a bedroom for Emma. You’ll stay with her through the weekend. We don’t know whether there is a warrant. Until we do, you and Emma are guests here. We can spend the weekend getting her comfortable. You can explain what you need to explain to her. On Monday morning, we’ll take you downtown and see where things stand.”

  Ben sat back in his chair and started to laugh under his breath, a laugh that grew the more he tried to control it.

  “I can’t believe this,” he said. “It’s like some farce—I mean, this is Monty Python kind of stuff. It’d be funny if it weren’t for the fact that it’s going to kill my daughter. She lost her mother, and she’s devastated. How do I explain to her that I’m going to jail because they think I killed her mother? What do I tell her? What do I say?”

  Boady pondered that question for a long time, unable to come up with a good answer. Finally, he said, “You tell her that you love her. You tell her that you’ll be back with her as soon as you possibly can. You tell her to have faith.” Boady looked Ben in the eye, his words offered for Emma, but meant for Ben. “You tell her that you will win this case. You will make it back to your little girl. I promise you, you’ll be back here, together. Tell her to believe that.”

  Boady offered his hand to Ben, and as Ben shook it, the tremor in Ben’s fingers seemed to fade away. Then, Ben smiled first genuine smile he’d been able to manage in some time.

  Boady smiled back. “Now let’s go see what we can do to turn our guest room into a room worthy of your little girl.”

  Chapter 30

  There is a fog that can infect a person’s brain, a thick, feverish sludge that engulfs sound and thoug
ht with an effect similar to being submerged in a tub of water. Max had experienced that fog after his wife died. He visited it once again the week his brother died, that time finding the fog in the bottom of a bottle of scotch. And in the hours after getting the anonymous letter, the fog returned. Max’s world shrank—from murder investigations and grand juries down to a letter, and a key with the number 49 attached to it.

  Max didn’t return to work that day. He stared at the items on his kitchen counter for an eternity, which barely spanned the lunch hour. That’s when Max the cop stepped in to relieve Max the stunned husband.

  This will reopen Jenni’s case, the cop said to himself. I need to turn this in.

  But the husband piped up. They’ve had this case before and it went nowhere. They don’t care about Jenni. She’s just another name on a page to them.

  I can’t investigate Jenni’s death. There’s a policy. I’ve been ordered to leave it alone. My involvement could create problems of proof.

  But it could be a prank, the husband said. This could be nothing more than a wild goose chase.

  Maybe, the cop said. It could be some dick I arrested in the past, come back to fuck with me. Yeah, that’s possible. I should keep this private until I know it’s legit, at least.

  Max shut off his phone and put the new evidence in a paper grocery bag. He could ask Bug to take a look at it. Test it for DNA and other trace evidence. Bug would do it for him, and Bug would keep it quiet.

  Before he went to bed that night, Max checked his phone. He’d missed four calls from Niki. The first three were Niki asking Max where he was and why he hadn’t come back to the office after testifying at the grand jury. The last message was different.

  “The grand jury came back,” Niki said. “They indicted Ben Pruitt. We have squads out looking for him now. Dovey’s calling him a flight risk, so everything’s under seal until we have him in custody. Also, the County Attorney and Dovey will be holding a press conference once we have Pruitt in custody. Dovey wants us to be there. Window dressing. Call me. Or not. Hope you’re okay.”

  He wants us at the press conference, Max said to himself. A show of unity. Let the public see the team that’s going to put Ben Pruitt away—and put Dovey on the bench.

  Fuck ’em, the husband said.

  Yeah, fuck ’em.

  Max didn’t sleep well that night. He tried, but terrible dreams pummeled him with every attempt. Finally he gave up, sat on his front porch, and watched the sky grow blue until the time came to drive in to the office.

  “Good to see you’re still alive.” Niki said. “You forget how to dial a phone?”

  Max plopped into his chair and took the first sip of his third cup of coffee that day. His eyes burned with fatigue, and every blink added weight to his lids. “Sorry, had a tough afternoon. Personal stuff.”

  “You look like hell.”

  Max fired up his computer, rubbing the rust from his eyes as he waited. “Didn’t sleep well. I’ll be okay.”

  “Come on, Max. What’s going on?”

  Max let her plea hang in the air for a few seconds before pulling out his phone. He pulled a photo of the letter, its words clear and readable. He handed the phone to Niki and typed a search for “storage units Minneapolis” into his computer. When he turned back to Niki, she was still staring at the letter on his phone.

  “My God,” she whispered.

  “Like I said, it was a rough night.” Max then showed Niki a picture of the key. “That was in the envelope with the letter.”

  “What’s it a key to?”

  “I think it’s a storage unit.” Max turned his monitor toward Niki. The screen showed a map of the Twin Cities and the surrounding suburbs covered with hundreds of red dots. “I think whatever evidence this letter’s referring to is in one of these units. But I don’t know. Hell, for all I know it could be a storage unit in New Jersey, or not even a storage unit at all. That’s just my best guess.”

  “Where’s the key now?”

  “At the crime lab. Bug Thomas swabbed the key and the envelope for DNA or prints. Nothing. He wanted to keep it another day to see if he could come up with anything.”

  “And the letter?”

  Max didn’t answer.

  “You didn’t show him the letter, did you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Because if you show him the letter, he’ll know what you’re doing.”

  “I just need a little time.”

  “Max, what the hell?”

  “This is where you say, ‘I have your back, partner.’”

  “Don’t you—” Another detective walked past their cubicle and Niki bit her lip. When he’d gone, Niki said, “Come with me.” She stood and walked past Max, who made no move to leave his seat. “Max!”

  He looked at her, and she wore a serious expression that he rarely saw on her. He stood and followed. She led him out of the Homicide Unit and down the long hallway to the front door of City Hall. She pushed through the door without saying a word. Max followed her across the light rail tracks to the courtyard of the Hennepin County Government Center, a red-stone plaza with a pool and fountain centerpiece.

  At the edge of the courtyard she stopped and turned to Max. “This is not your investigation, Max. I know it’s your wife, but you can’t be involved. You know that.”

  “I know it’s not my investigation. It was Louis Parnell’s investigation. He didn’t find a goddamn thing. He closed the file as a hit-and-run. He’s retired now, so it’s nobody’s investigation.”

  “But you can’t be the one looking into your wife’s death. It’s not just forbidden by policy, but it’s a bad idea.”

  “So, do what? Give this over to someone else to sit on, the way Parnell did? Do you really think any other detective will do what needs to be done? I’m reopening her case. I stayed out of it last time, and nothing got done. That won’t happen again. I’ll go to every single storage unit in the state if I have to. I’ll find the lock that goes with that key. No other detective would do that.”

  “I would,” Niki said.

  “You’re my partner. They’ll no more give that file to you than they would give it to me.”

  “I’m your partner, yes, but I’m also a friend. I know what it means to you to find out what happened to Jenni. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to sit by and watch you mess up your career. I have your back—that’ll never change. But know that I don’t approve.”

  “I won’t put you in the middle.”

  “I’m already there, but you’re missing my point. I’m not worried about how this might rub off on me. I know that if anyone finds out what you’re doing, you’ll protect me. But I’m trying to protect you. You might be putting yourself out on the plank for a hoax.”

  “And what if it’s not a hoax?”

  Niki said nothing at first. Then a sad smile pulled at her lips. She reached out her hand, gently holding onto Max’s arm, as though she needed the physical connection before she could speak. And when she spoke, her words came out soft and kind—the words of a friend, not a partner. “I know there are things more important than this job. In the grand scheme, I know you don’t have a choice. I just needed to say what I said. And I need you to know that I will always have your back. No matter what. We good?”

  Max smiled and nodded. “We’re good.”

  Chapter 31

  On Monday morning, bright and early, Boady parked in the ramp on the corner of Fourth Avenue and Fifth Street, in the very heart of the world of law enforcement. Across Fourth Avenue stood the Government Center, littered with courtrooms and prosecutors. Across Fifth Street was the jail, the building where he and Ben Pruitt were headed to see if a warrant had been issued, and if so, to surrender Ben’s freedom. And kitty-corner from the ramp was City Hall and the various investigative units including Homicide. He and Ben had to walk less than a block through the densest concentration of cops in the city without being identified. The last thing Boady wanted was a show-of-force takedown
just shy of the finish line.

  When they stepped out of the parking ramp, they were met by the clang of a train signal stopping them from crossing Fifth Street. The Green Line light rail was approaching from the east. Boady looked over his shoulder and saw two uniformed officers coming up behind them, about a block away. They were talking to each other and paying little mind to anyone else.

  The train, three cars long, had slowed for its stop in front of City Hall. The uniformed cops were within thirty feet now.

  “Don’t look behind you,” Boady whispered.

  “What?” Ben started to turn but stopped himself.

  “Two uniforms headed this way. Don’t let ’em see you—just in case there is a warrant out there.”

  Ben nodded and stiffened a bit in his stance.

  The patrolmen came to the corner where Ben and Boady stood, but instead of waiting for the train to pass, they turned west and crossed the street to the Government Center. Boady let out the breath he’d been holding. After the train passed, Boady and Ben crossed the street and strolled into the lobby of the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Office, Central Records. They approached a deputy standing beside a metal detector.

  “My name is Boady Sanden, Attorney at Law.” Boady didn’t have a business card to hand to the man. “I’m here to inquire whether there is an arrest warrant out for my client, Benjamin Lee Pruitt.” Boady indicated to Ben. “And if so, we’re here to surrender him.”

  The man looked at Boady, then at Ben. “Let me check on that.” He turned to a computer and typed on the keyboard. “Yep, that appears to be the case,” the deputy said. He picked up a phone and made a call.

  Ben closed his eyes and Boady could hear his friend’s breathing go shallow.

  “Are you ready for this?” Boady whispered.

  Ben began to breathe faster. “I thought I was. Christ. You take care of Emma. Don’t let her see me on TV.”