Jo noticed a white cloth sticking out from beneath Michael’s shoulder. Bringing it up to her nose, she detected a slightly sweet, antiseptic smell. Instantly, she felt woozy and threw the cloth away from her. Just then, she saw a typed note propped up on the coffee table. A shiver went down her spine as she read, “Leave it alone, or next time they’ll die.”
Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed 911.
***
As the paramedics checked the vital signs of Ron Fischer’s family, he turned haunted eyes to Jo. “Someone used chloroform on them. Who would do that? They’re just little boys….”
The detective had aged ten years in the last hour. She felt responsible for the threat against his family. If she hadn’t come to town, maybe none of this would have happened. She replied, “It was a warning for us to back off.”
Ron nodded and his voice was gravelly when he spoke, “I think it’s time for you to head back to the Cities.”
Jo shook her head. “No way. These guys win if I leave now, I can’t…”
His grip on her arm was like a vice. “And we’re all at risk if you stay. If Wellborne is behind this, he has resources you’ve never dreamed of.”
Ron released her arm. “It looks like someone in my department may be involved. Let me handle this my way. I’ll trace the license plate number from the SUV, although I’m sure the guy has long since ditched it.”
Jo bit her lower lip. “But what about you and your family, Ron? It’s too dangerous for them here.”
His response was steely. “I’ll be fine. I’ll send Micki and the boys to her mother’s house in South Dakota. I’m going to find the son-of-a-bitch who did this.”
He left her standing in the living room to follow his family in the ambulance. Jo thought about what was unspoken between them. What if the guy in the black SUV had not stopped with the chloroform…what if he had killed them instead?
Her thoughts turned towards her future with John. She couldn’t imagine coming home to the scene Ron had just witnessed. Is this what it would be like for her…always wondering if her own family would be safe from the criminals she dealt with on a daily basis?
She hadn’t even told John about the baby yet. She wondered how John would take the news. Would he be excited or scared, or both like she was?
Jo pulled out her phone and called for a taxi.
***
It had been a long day for Dr. John Goodman and he rubbed the aching muscles in his neck. He had checked on Rick Wilson one last time for the day. He decided he would stop on the way home and get a few laps of swimming in at the pool at the University of Minnesota in Minneapolis. He hadn’t been in the water for over a week and could tell his body had missed the workout. Running was great, but it didn’t work out the kinks in his neck like the rhythmic strides of swimming.
The drive to the “U” - as the locals called it - was short in terms of actual miles, but with all the road construction on campus for the new light-rail extension, John found it frustrating to wind his way through all the detours. He finally snagged a parking place and hopped out of his SUV. Just as he reached in to pull out his workout bag, he heard someone calling out to him.
“Doctor Goodman?”
John straightened and turned to the source of the voice. He saw a heavyset man with a full head of dark hair raise his hand in greeting. John was surprised to see Glenn Oates, a friend from his med school days.
“Glenn? What the hell are you doing here, buddy?”
His old friend’s face lit up and he wrapped John in a bear hug. They clapped each other on the back and then each took a small step backwards.
Glenn said, “I’m Associate Professor of Neurosurgery here at the U. We moved here a couple of years ago. I’d heard you were in town and I’ve been meaning to look you up. Jeez, how long has it been?”
“Too long, I’d say. How are Sheri and the kids?”
“The same. Keeping me out of trouble.”
John chuckled, “Now that’s a full-time job, if I remember correctly.”
Glenn smiled. “Hey, do you have some time? Why don’t we grab a cup of coffee? I’m between classes.”
“Lead the way.” John returned his workout bag to the back seat, locked the car and fell in step beside Glenn.
After they settled into a booth in a local cafe with two steaming mugs of coffee in front of them, Glenn said, “So, whatcha been up to and how the heck did you end up in Minnesota? Last I heard, you were giving speeches all over the world and saving lives.”
John smiled. “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I met a wonderful woman and we’re engaged.” He thought about how great it was to share his news with an old friend.
Glenn whistled. “I never thought I’d see the day John Goodman would fall in love. You were the guy that never took relationships too seriously, breaking all the women’s hearts.” He shook his head, “And she managed to convince you to give up your practice in Baltimore and settle in flyover country? Must be quite a woman.”
“She is. Truthfully I never thought I’d ever have someone in my life like you have Sheri. But I’ve never been happier.”
Glenn tilted his head, as if considering something. “You know….I was just in a staff meeting. The U is looking for a new medical school dean and vice president for health services. You’d be perfect, you know.”
John frowned. “Oh, I don’t know….”
His friend interrupted, “They’re looking for someone who’s a leader in his field and you certainly fit that bill. You’ve not only taught at Johns Hopkins, but you’ve lectured around the world. That kind of presence brings in big research dollars.”
He leaned forward, and John felt a hard sell coming. “Besides, I read in the paper yesterday about how you saved that college kid’s life. It’s how I knew you were back in town, as a matter of fact. That surgery was nothing short of brilliant. It made the national news.”
John felt a flush creep up his neck. “Look, I’m flattered. However, I’m just getting settled here and I’m not cut out to be a dean.”
“Well, tell me you’ll at least consider it. I’d love to float your name past the board. They’ll be very impressed, trust me.”
John nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about it. But I’m not promising anything. There’s a lot to be considered. My current career for starters.”
His old friend’s face beamed. “Excellent.”
.Chapter Twenty-Nine
Turners Bend
January
ON THE MORNING AFTER the snowstorm, the clock radio came on at 6:00 a.m. The announcer was reading school closings. “Ames public and private two hours late, Boone closed, Ogden closed, Perry closed, Roland-Story Community on plowed roads only…”
Jane stirred beside Chip. “It looks like none of us are going anywhere this morning,” she said. “Let’s make pancakes and bacon and hunker down until Iver gets the roads plowed.”
“Sounds good to me, but this storm is only prolonging the agony for Baba. I don’t suppose Agent Masterson made it to Turners Bend. Did you hear it howling last night? I wonder how much snow we got.”
Jane and Chip got out of bed and put on their robes and slippers. Jane peeked into Ingrid’s room. “No school today, honey. I’m making pancakes. You can stay in bed until they are ready.”
“Yahoo, no biology test today.” Ingrid rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.
Chip knocked on Baba’s door, and when he received no answer, he opened it a crack and stuck his head into the room. In the dim light he could see the bed was made. He opened the door wider and surveyed the room. No Baba. His heart sunk.
“Jane, Baba’s gone,” he whispered. They searched the whole house and did not find him. Returning to Ingrid’s room to question her about Baba’s whereabouts, they found her at her window looking out into the early morning light. She turned and smiled when she heard them enter.
“Look,” she said. “Baba’s outside making a snowman. It’s the ta
llest one I’ve ever seen.”
***
An hour later, after they had consumed buckwheat pancakes with maple syrup, bacon and hot chocolate, Chip’s phone sang out with his new ringtone, Bruno Mars this time. It was Agent Masterson and Chip spoke with her briefly.
“That was Agent Masterson,” he announced. “She is stuck in Des Moines but hopes to make it to Turners Bend this afternoon. Homeland Security is pissed with her and they want Baba in custody. As soon as we can, we’ll have to take him to the police station to wait until she arrives and can sort out this mess.”
The call broke the snug, cozy atmosphere of a snow day at home. Gloom returned and the four of them dressed and sat around, their ears straining for the sound of Iver’s snowplow. It came too soon, and they all headed for town, Chip riding with Iver to keep him company and Jane driving Baba and Ingrid, who insisted on going along.
The Turners Bend City Hall was an old stone edifice built by the Works Progress Administration in the 1930s. The front entrance led to the administration offices run with pride and efficiency by City Clerk Flora Fredrickson. The back entrance led to the police department, staffed by the chief, his deputy and a dispatcher.
With the addition of Chip, Jane, Baba and Ingrid, the front office area was crowded. With not enough chairs to go around, Baba and Chip stood, while Jane took the seat vacated by Deputy Anderson. They waited silently.
“Anyone want a cup of the swill we call coffee around here?” asked the chief.
They all passed. “Just as well,” he said. “Just heard that Agent Masterson is on her way, she should be here soon.”
A few moments later, in strode Agent Masterson and within seconds there was no mistaking who was in charge. She looked up at Baba from her five-foot two height to his six-foot ten, and addressed him in her professional persona, “Mr. Dibaba, I understand you have a problem.”
Stark terror emanated from Baba’s face. “Ow…I mean yes.”
“Please be advised I speak Amharic plus several other African dialects. Now, Chief, please take this young man into your office. I suggest the rest of you wait at the Bun or some other suitable location.”
“Wait,” said Chip. “We have not had time to get legal counsel for Baba. I request to be his advocate during this questioning.”
The agent gave Chip a stern look and shook her head. “Chip, you try me at times. It is highly irregular, but under the circumstances and knowing what I have to say to him, you may stay. The chief will be in attendance also. The rest of you, out.”
Masterson took the chair behind the chief’s desk and indicated to the other three to take the chairs in front of her. She removed a thick file folder from her briefcase and opened it. She started with a series of questions about Baba’s name, birth place and date, and student visa status. These questions seem to ease Baba’s tension, that is, until she asked about his family.
“I see your mother is deceased and your father resides in Afra. You have one brother named Hakim, who is associated with the Wabbabi Muslim movement, correct?” At this question Baba dropped his eyes and murmured his assent. His body stiffened, as if preparing for an assault.
Agent Masterson consulted her notes again. “While delayed in transit, I went over all the data from the file Homeland Security has amassed on you. There is nothing to connect you to your brother Hakim’s activities. It is clear you are exactly who you say you are and you are concerned about your brother but you deplore his current actions in your homeland. I am not going to take you to the FBI office in Omaha for detainment, as I had originally planned.”
Chip realized he had been holding his breath and released a puff of air. Likewise Baba’s body seemed to deflate and shrivel, the tension oozing out.
She paused. “However, you will be on Homeland Security’s watch list from now on. I’m sorry there is nothing I can do to stop that. When your student visa expires, you must return to Ethiopia, and I doubt you will ever be able to enter this country again. I know it seems unfair, and I couldn’t agree with you more. Do you understand?”
Tears began to creep down Baba’s face. He nodded and turned to Chip. Chip put his arm around the young man’s shoulders. The chief cleared his throat, bellying his emotional reactions to the situation.
“There is one more thing, Baba, if I may call you that,” said the agent. “Things may be more favorable for you if you agree to pass along information about your brother’s activities to federal agencies. We know that he has communicated with someone in central Iowa. We don’t know who or why and that information would be very helpful. And, by the way you two,” pointing to the chief and Chip, “that is privileged information.”
“Baba, do you understand what Agent Masterson is asking you to do? It’s called being an informant,” said Chip.
“Yes, I understand, but I swear on my mother’s grave I don’t know anything. And, above all else, he is my brother. Right or wrong, I could never do anything that would cause him harm.”
The agent softened her voice. “I understand, Baba, but I had to ask. Now go home and get some rest, you look exhausted.”
She stood. “Chief, I need to get down to the bottom of this connection between Hakim Dibaba and someone in Iowa. Looks like I’ll be extending my stay in Turners Bend.”
Agent Masterson closed Baba’s file, then turned her attention to Chip. “Detective Franco is due here soon, although this weather may be delaying him. When he arrives we have a proposition for you, a plan to verify if Hal Swanson is in the area and attempting to do you harm.”
“With all this turmoil about Baba, Hal has been off my radar. There have been no signs of him, no trouble at all. I seriously doubt he’s in the area.”
Masterson looked as if she was going to say something, but hesitated and seemed to reconsider. “I’ll call you when Franco arrives.”
***
Chip knew he was in for another sleepless night. The parting conversation with Agent Masterson was playing over and over again in this mind. It was obvious to him that she was not sharing some information about Hal’s whereabouts.
Does this mean Hal really is in the area? Why is Franco involved? None of this is making any sense to me.
Chapter Thirty
Head Shot
Minneapolis & St. Paul, MN
Late October/Early November
JO SLOWLY DROVE DOWN THE winding streets to her house in the Tangletown area of South Minneapolis. Most of the houses had jack-o-lanterns on their front steps, as well as cobwebs, tombstones and even a ghost or two, in the form of bed sheets hanging from the trees.
She had been able to catch a late afternoon flight and stopped at a twenty-four hour pharmacy before heading to the house. Unable to wait another minute, she ducked into the store’s restroom to use the pregnancy test.
Now on the way home, she wondered how she would tell John they were going to have a baby. Jo was excited, but nervous, too. What if he isn’t happy about our news?
She took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it lightly on her stomach. How on earth can I be a mother and an FBI agent, and be good at both? Jo had no illusions about the safety of her chosen profession. She had certainly been in some dangerous spots. They both had been, for that matter. Is it fair to bring this child into the world when I take risks on a regular basis?
Thoughts swirled around her head like the discarded Halloween candy wrappers that tumbled in the wind across the neighborhood lawns.
***
A few hours later, she and John sat at the table in the kitchen. Several Chinese take-out containers were open in front of them. Jo was quiet, picking at the Szechuan Spicy Beef and Rice on her plate.
John leaned back in his chair and swirled the wine in his glass. "Don’t you like the food…too spicy?”
“No, I guess I ate too much earlier in the day.”
She sensed he was still studying her. After a moment, he said, “Jo, what’s going on? You've been a million miles away since you got home.” His bro
ws came together. “Is it this case?”
Jo looked at John and took a deep breath. She released it slowly, silently counting to ten before she said, "I'm pregnant."
John jumped up from the chair. His wineglass clinked against his plate and the red wine spilled out of the overturned glass. She looked up. In his eyes she saw shock and something else she couldn’t identify.
"Of all the things I thought you might say that was not one of them. I…I was afraid you were having second thoughts about getting married." He fumbled with his napkin and quickly sopped up the spill. Jo stood up to help, glad to have something to occupy her for a moment while she processed his reaction.
She tried to catch his eye as he wiped down the table, but he was looking downward, focusing on his task. What had she seen in his face? Was he excited or upset? She wished he would say something more, anything that would let her know how he was feeling. She couldn't seem to push any more words past her suddenly dry throat, and so she waited for him.
When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. He dropped the red-stained napkin onto his plate and smacked the heel of his palm against his forehead. “What the hell am I doing?" He reached for Jo and pulled her against him.
Jo felt his breath stir her hair as he spoke. "My God, Jo. I don't think I could ever feel…I mean, are you sure?"
He pulled slightly away from her, and she looked up into his face. Jo finally saw what she had hoped to see…excitement.
Jo felt a grin form itself on her lips and nodded. "Pretty sure. I picked up one of those home-pregnancy kits. It was positive, but I haven't seen my doctor yet."
John said, “I’ve heard those home tests are surprisingly accurate. Well, our first order of business is to get you in to see a doctor as soon as possible. I know you already have an OB/GYN, but let me check around. We need the best.”
As he pulled her close once more, Jo buried a contented smile in his sweater. Having experienced his fiercely protective nature before, she knew he would be doubly so now that she carried their child. At some point, she’d probably chafe at his precautions, but for now, she snuggled closer to him. She could feel the pounding of his heart against her cheek. It seemed like the rhythm of his heart matched hers.
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 03 - Writing Can Be Murder Page 16