The Bone House

by Brian Freeman

  She dialed the number. She hadn't spoken to Pamela Frank in almost three years, but they still sent Christmas cards and the occasional e-mail. When she reached Pam at her desk, she was relieved to discover that news of Mark's problems hadn't made its way to Fargo. The last thing she wanted to do was rehash the events of the past week. Instead, after five minutes of small talk, she got to the point.

  'Listen, there's a name I want to run by you,' Hilary said. 'Someone who may have been a coach or teacher at the school a few years ago. Gary Jensen.'

  Pam was silent on the phone for a long while. 'OK.'

  'Do you know him?'

  'I remember him, sure.'

  'How long was he there?' Hilary asked.

  'Three or four years, as I recall.' Pam was oddly close-mouthed.

  'What do you remember about him?'

  'Why do you want to know?' Pam asked. 'Is this in conjunction with some kind of employment application?'

  'No, nothing like that. It's personal.'

  'Oh.' She sounded relieved. 'I have to be careful what I say, Hilary. It's too damn easy to get sued.'

  'You know me, Pam. This goes no further.'

  'Let's just say we weren't unhappy when he left us to go to Green Bay. That was about four years ago.'

  'What was wrong with him?' Hilary asked.

  'We didn't have any real evidence,' Pam said. 'It was just rumors.'

  'Rumors about what?'

  'Sex with students,' Pam said in a clipped tone. 'We investigated but couldn't prove anything. The law says we can't talk about unproven allegations in a reference check, so there wasn't anything we could say to the folks in Green Bay. But it was solid enough that his wife divorced him.'

  The second wife wasn't so lucky, Hilary thought.

  'What's going on?' Pam asked. 'Is Jensen in trouble again?'

  'I don't know.'

  'Well, you said it was personal. I assume you're not involved with this guy?'

  'God, no.'

  'Good. I never heard anything bad about his work as a coach, but if you ask me, he was creepy.'

  'I appreciate the information, Pam.'

  'How's Mark?'

  'Great. Just great.'

  'Tell him I said hi.'

  'I will.'

  Hilary hung up the phone. She didn't know how to interpret what she'd found. Pam knew Jensen from his years in Fargo, which overlapped with the timeline of the fire. That meant one thing: Gary Jensen was not Harris Bone.

  So who was he?

  Amy and Pam had both used the same word to describe him. Creepy. If Pam was right, the coach also had a history of sexual relationships with underage girls.

  Like Glory.

  Hilary stared at the fuzzy image of Gary Jensen in Amy's photograph. She wished that the phone call with Amy hadn't ended so abruptly.

  She wished she knew where Amy was.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Amy awoke to find that her senses had been stripped. She opened her eyes and saw nothing. She tried to scream, but her mouth was stuffed with a wadded-up cloth that made her cough and choke. When she moved, she found that her wrists and ankles were tightly bound. She was on her back on what felt like a soft mattress. When she turned her head, her brain was still dizzy with pain. She tried to piece her memory together, but her mind was blank, and she struggled in confusion and panic before she remembered Gary Jensen.

  He'd done this to her.

  He handed her a glass of wine, and she drank. That was when it all started, when she'd become disoriented. He'd put something in her wine. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She'd heard all the stories about date rape drugs, but she had taken the wine without even thinking about it. She wondered what he'd given her. Ecstasy. GHB. Whatever it was, the effects lingered. She kept feeling her head float away.

  Think.

  She had no sense of time or how long she'd been lying here. It could have been night or noon outside. She breathed through her nose and tried not to think about the saliva gathering in the back of her throat that made her want to gag. The aroma that she smelled was of flowers and dust. It was the same Victorian home smell from last night, and she realized that she was still inside Gary Jensen's house.

  Amy heard the noise of the furnace and felt warm air from a vent near the bed. Outside, as the wind blew, a ghostly rattle scraped across the roof above her. She was upstairs. The noise was caused by tree branches rubbing on the metal gutters. Inside the house, below her, she thought she heard voices. It might have been the radio or television, but she felt the floors shudder, and she knew she wasn't alone. Gary was still in the house with her. She didn't know how much time she had before he returned.

  There was no way to free herself. Pulling at the tape on her wrists and ankles only seemed to make it tighter. She tried to spit out the scratchy cloth in her mouth, but tape on her face held the gag in place. The only noises she could make were stifled, guttural groans, and she was afraid the effort would cause her to vomit and choke. In frustration, she squirmed frantically on the bed, struggling against her restraints, and she felt the whole structure lift off the ground and bang on the floor.

  Shit. He'd heard her.

  Footsteps moved below her, coming closer. She heard him on the stairs. In the hallway. Outside the door. As he came inside, she lay completely still, playing possum with her eyes closed, but she knew she wasn't fooling him. She could sense his presence looming over her. She heard him breathing and smelled the musk of his cologne. He switched on the bedroom light, and she reacted involuntarily, opening her eyes and squinting.

  'Hello, Amy,' Gary said. His voice was hushed and sounded almost sad. 'I'm glad you're awake.'

  She struggled, desperate to escape.

  'I'm going to take off the gag now, so we can talk,' he continued. 'Don't scream. No one's going to hear you, and I'll have to get mean, and I really don't want to do that.'

  She felt his fingernails on the side of her face, digging under the tape. 'It's better if I do this quickly,' he said. In the same instant, he ripped the tape from her face, and she moaned with the pain of her skin tearing away. He pulled the long ribbon of cloth from inside her mouth, and she gulped air. Her cheeks burned, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

  'You fucking bastard!' she screamed. 'Let me go!'

  His palm flew across her face, shocking her into silence with a stinging slap. 'Please don't make this harder than it has to be, Amy.'

  'What the hell do you want?' she demanded, squirming against the restraints.

  Gary dragged a wooden chair from the opposite side of the room and sat down near her. They were in a guest bedroom, dark and brooding like the rest of the house. 'I like you, Amy. I really wish you hadn't put yourself in the middle of this.'

  'The middle of what?' Amy asked.

  He didn't answer. The back of his fingers caressed her face and under her chin. She turned her head to get away from him, but she couldn't. He touched her lightly with the fingertips of one hand, making a line between her breasts and then following the slope to her right nipple.

  'Stop it,' she hissed.

  He let his palm rest on top of her breast. 'I have to tell you, you were one of the girls I fantasized about. I dropped hints, and I always hoped you'd take me up on it.'

  'Dream on.'

  'Was it because I was older? A lot of girls seem to find that exciting.'

  'I'm sure you were a pervert when you were twenty-one, too.'

  His fingers tightened until she gasped in pain. 'Be nice, Amy.' He released her from his grip, and she breathed heavily.

  'What do you want?' she asked.

  'I have some questions for you. Mainly, I just want to know who you told.'

  'Told what?'

  'For starters, you saw me with Glory Fischer in Naples. Who else knows about that? Who did you tell?'

  Amy froze. Her roommate's face flashed in her mind. Katie. He was going after her. She also remembered - or thought she remembered - making a phone call
to Hilary before she collapsed. Oh, God, what had she done? She'd put them both in danger.

  'The police,' she said. 'I told the police.'

  He chuckled. 'Nice try.'

  'It's true. I have a friend who's a Green Bay cop. I told him I was coming here, just in case you did anything.'

  'Really? What's his name?'

  'You'll find out when he knocks down your door, asshole.'

  'That's clever, but he's not coming. You didn't call the police. I want to know who you did tell.'

  Amy sighed. 'OK. You win. I didn't tell anyone. No one knew.'

  'I'd like to believe you, but I don't.'

  'I didn't tell anyone else. I didn't even know I was right, you idiot. You could have lied, and I would have believed you. You didn't have to do this.'

  'The hard part is, I know you, Amy,' Gary said. 'I've seen you practice and perform. You're determined. You don't let go of something until you get it right. It doesn't matter what I told you. You wouldn't quit.'

  'So tell me why you killed Glory.'

  'It won't make you feel better to know what happened, Amy. Believe me. Glory Fischer was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. She saw something that it would have been better for her never to see. And, like you, she wasn't going to keep the secret. Sooner or later, she was going to tell someone. So let's try this again, Amy. Who did you tell? Do you have a roommate? Do you have a friend on the team?'

  'No one else knew.'

  'I'm only going to ask once more. Who knew you were coming to see me last night?'

  'Nobody.'

  'God, I hate to do this, Amy.' He took his hands away from her body. Sharply, fiercely, he hit her again, his fist nearly breaking the bones in her face and wrenching her neck sideways. She heard him wince himself from the force of the blow. Her cheek and eye throbbed, and she started crying involuntarily.

  'Stop,' she begged him.

  'Let's go another way. Who did you call? What did you say last night on the phone?'

  'I don't remember,' she sobbed. Her emotions soared between helplessness and fury. Her head spun with pain.

  'I have your phone. I know the number you called. Who was it?'

  'I don't remember making any call.'

  'I heard you talking in the bathroom. What did you say? Did you mention my name?'

  'You drugged me. I didn't know what I was doing.'

  Gary sighed. 'You could make this a lot easier on yourself, Amy.'

  'I don't remember anything.'

  But she did remember. Through the haze of the drug, she remembered the sound of Hilary's voice, and she remembered telling her about Gary. And Glory. She hoped that Hilary hadn't written off the call as drunk ramblings from a former student; she hoped that she would tell someone, send someone. That was the only thing she could pray for. Help.

  Katie would wonder where she was. Hilary would try to reach her. One of them, both of them, would send the police here. She had to stay alive until then, and that meant not giving Gary what he wanted.

  It was as if he could read her mind.

  'Rescue's not coming,' he told her. 'If that's what you're hoping for, give it up. By the time you're missing long enough for the police to care, this will all be over. I don't want to be ugly. Sooner or later, you'll tell me the truth, so you're only hurting yourself the longer you wait.'

  'Go fuck yourself.'

  Amy cringed, expecting another blow, but it didn't come. He sat in the chair silently, not moving.

  'Unless you tell me, I'll have to start choosing for myself. I'll start with the people you care about. Your parents. Your friends. Maybe you don't care what happens to yourself, but what about them? Do you want them to suffer too? They don't have to, Amy. You can spare them. Tell me.'

  'I didn't tell anybody. That's the truth.'

  'You're lying,' Gary said. 'That's not going to save you.'

  'Why the hell are you doing this?' Amy asked him. She felt blood bubbling out of her mouth. 'Why? Is it because of your wife? You killed her, too, didn't you?'

  Gary inhaled loudly. 'I loved my wife.'

  'So you pushed her off a cliff. Did Glory find out about it?'

  'Don't try to understand me,' he advised her. 'This isn't psychology class. This is about life or death for the people you love. Believe me, I know how painful it is to watch someone you love die.'

  'Everyone knows you were having an affair.'

  Gary leaned in closer. 'Everyone? Who's everyone? Who told you that?'

  Amy bit her lip and said nothing. She cursed herself in her head. She didn't want to give him a roadmap that would lead him anywhere near Katie. Or Hilary. Tell someone, send someone.

  'OK, Amy, we'll do it the hard way.'

  He stood up, and she could feel his presence above her, growing more ominous. She tensed, waiting for whatever was coming next, knowing it would be bad. Even so, she swore to herself that she wouldn't cry and she wouldn't beg. Not to him. Not in front of this monster. She just had to buy time and hope that someone would look for her. Come to the door. Find her.

  At that moment, someone did.

  Downstairs, she heard a muffled noise, and she realized it was the sound of the antique doorbell chiming. Gary flinched. Amy sucked in a breath to scream, but he anticipated her intention and was on her immediately, clapping a hand over her mouth. He squeezed her jaw, forcing her lips open, and jammed the ribbon of wet cloth back inside, choking her, cutting off any sound from her throat. When he was done, he slapped tape back across her mouth. She was mute again, other than a low squealing through her nose.

  'I'll be back,' Gary said. He slammed the door of the room shut as he left.

  She heard his muffled footsteps as he ran down the stairs. She fought, trying to move the bed and make a noise that would be heard below her, but she was running out of strength. She kept breathing through her nose, struggling to swell her lungs, but she began to cough bile into the thick gag. Panic made her gasp for air. Help me.

  Somewhere in the house, she heard him talking. Gary had answered the door. She wanted to cry, knowing help was so close and yet out of her reach.

  Find me.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Cab held up the folder with his Florida badge to the man who opened the door.

  'Mr Jensen? My name is Cab Bolton with the Naples Police. I'm investigating the murder that occurred at the hotel where you were staying last Sunday. I believe you talked to someone in my department about the events you witnessed from your room that night.'

  Gary Jensen looked flustered by Cab's arrival. His face was flushed, and he peered nervously over his shoulder. 'Oh. Oh, yes, Detective Bolton, of course. You took me by surprise. Your people told me that there would be a follow-up interview, but I just assumed it would be by phone. I didn't think you would come all the way up here to talk to me in person.'

  'The victim in this case was from Door County,' Cab told him, 'so I've been conducting an investigation in that area. Since you're only an hour away, I thought it would be easiest to talk to you face to face.'

  'Yes, of course.'

  'I stopped by the university, and they told me you were home today.'

  'Right. Good. I'm glad you found me.'

  Cab stared past Gary Jensen at the gloomy interior of his house. 'Do you mind if I come in?'

  'Oh, yes, yes, I'm sorry. Please. Come in.'

  'I apologize if this is a bad time. I should have called you first. It's a bad detective's habit, I'm afraid. We show up unannounced.'

  'No, come in. This is fine.'

  Jensen swung open the door and gestured with his hand. Cab stepped over the threshold into the foyer, which was dimly lit. Ahead of him, twisting stairs with an ornate iron banister wound to the second level. He saw a living room furnished with dark wood and heavy furniture immediately on his left, but Jensen pointed the opposite way down the hallway. The walls were lined with framed photographs of college teams in action.

  'I could use a Cok
e while we talk,' Jensen said. 'I'm pretty dry. Do you mind?'

  'Not at all.'

  Jensen led him through swinging doors into a compact kitchen with dated yellow appliances. He checked his watch and switched on a radio as he passed the counter, and Cab heard the dialogue of a sports talk program. The volume was oddly loud. Jensen opened the refrigerator and popped a can of Coke and gestured at Cab.

  'You want one?'

  'No, thanks. Do you mind turning down the radio?'

  Jensen made the volume marginally lower. 'Sorry, the spring training report is coming up next. The Brewers are in Maryvale.'

  Cab shrugged but didn't protest further. He took a seat at the kitchen table and pointed the chair outward where he could extend his legs. Jensen took a seat opposite him and drank his Coke straight from the can. The man acted uncomfortable, but Cab wasn't surprised. Most people lost their bearings when a police officer showed up on their doorstep. He liked the element of surprise, before witnesses had a chance to practice their story.

  Other than his demeanor, there was nothing unusual about Gary Jensen. He was middle-aged but athletic, with a narrow face and pointed chin. There was no pouch of fat on his neck. He wore a navy blue fleece hoodie and mesh sweatpants and brightly colored Nikes. It was easy to imagine him as a college coach, intense and competitive, hollering on the sidelines at students who were substantially taller and larger than he was. The longer Jensen sat with Cab, the more the man made a show of relaxing. He eased back into the chair. A smile came back to his mouth, but it looked artificial and forced.

  'Am I keeping you from something, Mr Jensen?' Cab asked.

  The coach shook his head. 'Not at all.'

  'I appreciate your calling us about what you saw.'

  'Of course. I would have called sooner, but our bus left early in the morning on Sunday, so I had no idea that something had happened at the hotel. I saw news reports during the week, and I realized I should get in touch with your department.'

  'I'm glad you did. I'd like to go over some of the details again, if you don't mind.'