Fredrickson looked startled, as if he had not expected to speak. He stepped to the microphones with stage fright written all over his face and cleared his throat.
A reporter shouted, “Chief, Chet Roper, from the CBS affiliate in Chicago. Why did you think the remains were those of Tracy Trent?”
“I never did. Someone around here just jumped to the conclusion, I’m afraid.”
Another reporter jumped in. “If it isn’t Tracy Trent, Chief, who is it?”
“When I know, I’ll let you know. Until then, I hope you’ll clear out of town and leave us alone to do our job. I have no more comments,” he concluded and pushed his way through the crowd.
* * *
The bell jingled as Chip opened the café’s door, but no one noticed it above the din of gossipmongers. He heard a familiar laugh and glanced in the direction of the small table he and Jane had at one time selected as their own. Jane was there and not alone. Lance Williams seemed to be entertaining her, and Chip winced as Jane put her hand on his arm.
He did all he could do to stop himself from rushing over, pulling Lance out of his chair and decking him in the jaw. Chip knew he should be cool and just saunter over and join them, but he was in no mood to do so and feared he might make an ass of himself. He turned on his heels and exited before they noticed him.
He fussed and fumed all the way back to the farmhouse. Sure, he himself had been a newcomer who wooed the local vet, but that was different, wasn’t it? He loved her and asked her to marry him. And anyway, how lame was this character … an architect who wanted to be an organic farmer? Who was Lance kidding? The guy didn’t know the first thing about farming. Then again, he thought, he hadn’t known the first thing about writing crime stories, and look at him now. Relax, Jane would never be interested in Lance, she’s too smart, too sensible. Oh God, maybe she’s too smart and sensible to marry a two-bit crime writer, one who’s been divorced three times!
He clipped a neighbor’s mailbox and the side mirror of his Volvo snapped off. Damn.
He arrived home to two barking dogs and a kitten who was taunting them from her perch on top of the refrigerator. He let the dogs out into the yard, snatched down Callie, and then headed to his laptop to check emails.
September 23, 4:00 p.m.
Chip,
Good news, bad news. The good news is that Amy Chang from Good Day USA wants to interview both of us for a segment about crime novels that are being made into movies. The bad news is that she wants to do the interview in Turners Bend, which means I will have to make another trip to that odious little town. Amy and I plan to arrive next Tuesday to film. Try to look and act like a noted author for once.
Lucinda
His life was a roller coaster ride. Just a few days ago he had been excited about the Bijou renovation and the positive signs from Jane. Now the theater project was on hold, Jane had a potential new suitor and worst of all, Lucinda was coming to town.
His only comfort was the purring kitty in his lap.
Chapter Ten
Mind Games
St. Paul & Brooklyn Center, Minnesota
Late July
The media vehicles had cleared out of the parking lot in front of the Capitol by the time Frisco pulled alongside Jo’s black SUV. The Capitol and St. Paul’s Cathedral across the way were brightly lit by spotlights—two jewels lit against a velvety black sky.
“Looks like the media packed up their circus wagons and left for the night,” Frisco said.
Jo laughed. “Glad the head muckity-mucks get to deal with them, not me.” She grasped the door handle. “Thanks for the company at dinner, Frisco. I hope you like living here.”
In the glow of the lights in front of the Capitol, Jo saw a shadow pass across the detective’s features. “As long as my family is all together, that’s the important thing.” As Jo stepped out of the car, he leaned over and said, “I’ll give you a call tomorrow when the autopsy is set up.”
“Sounds good. Night, Frisco.”
Jo started up her SUV and headed north out of St. Paul, working her way to the highway. Dinner with Frisco had been a welcome respite, but now she was itching to get back to work. Even though it was past normal working hours, she knew a case this big would fill many of the FBI headquarter offices until late into the evening.
As she entered the west-bound lanes of I-694, she said to herself, “I really should call John now, while I’ve got a moment.” But dread and, if she were being honest, fear kept her from plugging in her Bluetooth. What do I say to him? I can’t tell him to drop everything and move here, and I would have a hard time starting over there.
She kept thinking about Frisco and his move to St. Paul. She sensed he wasn’t thrilled with the relocation, but was making the best of it.
On the other hand, as difficult as her job could be and as much as she hated all the bureaucracy, she genuinely loved what she did for a living. It gave her an energy that went way beyond anything else she’d ever known. Except John.
I need to stop thinking about how I was supposed to be in Baltimore right now. She spoke out loud, “I’m making myself crazy.” Jo clicked on the radio. Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” filled the interior with powerful, bluesy notes and her mind eased back into thinking about the case. Even as a child, Jo loved solving riddles and puzzles. She thrived on following leads, even if they sometimes led to dead-ends. There was a method to it all; a systematical search for the truth.
Maybe that’s the frustrating thing about relationships. Romantic connections with other human beings usually didn’t have a right or wrong answer. There was nothing methodical about them. They were messy.
The highway miles drifted by as she plotted out what she’d like to accomplish tonight in the office. Tomorrow would be a crazy day, and if she planned ahead tonight, she could hit the ground running.
Jo passed through the high palisade fence surrounding the newly built FBI building in Brooklyn Center, a northern suburb of Minneapolis. She pulled out her identification card to show the security guard on duty and then proceeded up the ramp into the parking structure.
From the outside, the headquarters looked like the other sleek, modern office buildings in the Twin Cities area. However, a closer look revealed a state-of-the art building, including a screening area for visitors, blast-proof glass, a reinforced structure, and a closed-circuit television security system.
She pulled out her gun and placed it in the basket before she walked through the metal detectors. Jo smiled at Dan, one of the night guards.
“Late night, Agent Schwann?”
“Yeah, well. All in a day’s work. I hear your retirement party is scheduled for next Thursday. I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me, too. Gonna be hard adjusting to sleeping at night again after all these years. Don’t work too hard,” he said as Jo retrieved her weapon.
“Thanks, Dan, you too.” She took the stairs two at a time to the third level and stepped onto her floor, gaining entry by waving her ID card over the panel to the right of the door. The new carpet muted her footsteps as she walked across the large room to her cubicle. Just as she removed her suit jacket and hung it on the back of her chair, she heard Tom Gunderson, her supervisor, call out to her.
“Schwann. What have you got so far?”
Jo stepped into his office and settled into the chair across the desk from her boss. “Good evening to you, too, Tom.”
He had the decency to look abashed at his lack of social niceties. “Sorry, Jo. This case has stirred up a shitstorm. Been getting calls from everyone … the media, the mayor, the speaker of the house. Hell, even the governor is screaming in my ear, demanding to know what’s going on.”
Tom leaned back into his chair. “Given our honorable governor and the deceased were on opposite sides of the political spectrum, I suspect he’s not too heartbroken. However, I think it scares the crap out of him that he might be the next target. He very loudly reminded me that his office is right down the hall from where the body was di
scovered.”
“But Capitol Security is on high alert and he has his own bodyguards.”
“I reminded him of that, but it didn’t seem to make him any less jumpy. I’m telling you, Jo, people are riled up.” He took a swig of coffee from the Caribou mug on his desk. “So, where are we?”
Jo quickly launched into what they knew so far. Tom listened carefully, taking notes here and there. When she had finished, he asked, “What are your next steps?”
Jo sorted through all of the plans in her head and said, “Frisco and I are headed to the ME’s office in the morning. Trace evidence on the body should help narrow down the search for the original crime scene.
“We’re winnowing down the list of people who had access to the building, especially those who could have slipped a body into the Capitol without drawing suspicion. We’re following up on any threats that State Rep. Freemont may have received. With Freemont’s political views, he probably pissed off quite a few people.”
“Sounds like you are off to a good start. Keep me informed. This is going to be a media monster. There’s a meeting scheduled at noon tomorrow in the Emergency Operations Center upstairs. I’ll expect you to join us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jo headed back to her desk and clicked on the lamp. Just as she was about to turn on her laptop, she was interrupted by Agent Mark Daniels. He leaned against her cubicle wall and said, “Hey, Schwann. I heard Tom put you on the Freemont job. Guess all you have to do around here is bat your eyes to get the best cases.”
She turned her chair around to face him. “Don’t be an ass, Daniels. I didn’t ask to be put on this case. As a matter of fact, it put a major kink in my plans. Just because you had some high-profile cases in your last assignment in Omaha doesn’t mean you’re more qualified.”
Agent Daniels sneered. “This case should have been mine.”
“I suggest you take it up with Tom, if that’s the way you feel.”
He spun on his heel and marched off.
She fired up her laptop and quickly forgot her encounter with Daniels as she spent the next several hours deeply entrenched in cyberspace, searching for cases with a similar MO.
She revised her search criteria, limiting results to deaths with shotgun blasts to the face. As she waited for the search results, she closed her eyes. Her head throbbed and she rubbed her temples. Jo mumbled to herself, “Guess those beers with Frisco weren’t such a great idea after all.” Opening her center drawer, she pulled out a couple of ibuprofen and popped them in her mouth.
Looking back at her laptop screen, she was startled to see a crime scene photo which looked eerily similar to Freemont’s, except this victim had been female. Same close-up and personal blast to the jaw line.
Jo’s heart pounded as she leaned forward to read the details of the nine year-old cold case. Unknown female, approximate age: 22 years. Case status: Open. Suspect questioned and released. Original crime scene undetermined. Jo’s eyes tracked to the bottom of the screen. The body had been discovered in an alley in Baltimore, Maryland.
“Baltimore! Damn it.” She looked at the clock in the lower right hand corner of her laptop screen. “I should have called John sooner.” She snatched her cell phone out of her pocket and headed to the small conference room on her floor. Jo quietly closed the door behind her. The smell of new carpet and fresh paint assailed her nostrils as she walked over to the windows. The lights from the parking structure cast a dim, yellow light into the room. In the distance, she could see the storm clouds rolling in.
An invisible band tightened across her chest as she dialed John’s number. A voice in her head insisted, Don’t answer. Please don’t answer.
The phone rang two times before she heard his drowsy voice. “Hello, beautiful. Wasn’t sure you’d call.”
Jo’s heart raced, but the tension in her chest eased a little. It had been a while since she’d heard that sleepy voice of his in her ear. It reminded her of waking up next to him, and she felt a weight in her stomach when she realized she might never wake up next to him again. “Sorry to call so late.”
“That’s okay. I know you’re working a big case. I’m sure it’s hard to break away. How is it going?”
“Ugly. Brutal. The only bright spot is that Detective Frisco is now a part of the St. Paul PD. It’s good to work with him again.” She gripped the phone tighter. “I … miss you, John.”
She heard a heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. “I miss you, too. You have no idea how much I miss you.” In the intervening silence, Jo watched the first rain drops hit the window, blurring her reflection in the glass. The wind whipped the trees back and forth. It’s going to be a wicked night.
She finally got up the nerve to speak again. “So, what are we going to do?” Jo held her breath, afraid of his response. Jo traced the trail of a lone raindrop gliding down the glass with her fingertip.
“I don’t know. All I know is that this can’t go on. It’s tearing me up inside. I can’t see my life without you in it. But this half-life of broken plans, abbreviated calls … it doesn’t work for me.”
“Me either.” A thunderclap outside startled her.
She heard him blow out a puff of frustrated air. “Maybe we should take a break.”
Jo sucked in a sharp breath. Her mind screamed, No!
John quickly continued, “Just until you sort out this case. You can’t focus on your job when you’re thinking about us.”
A crooked stitch of lightning appeared in the distance above the Minneapolis skyline and lit up the conference room. She knew John was still talking on the other end of the phone, but all she heard was a buzzing in her ears, as if she was underwater.
Finally, his voice came through, “Jo? Are you still there?”
She pushed the words over the lump that had formed in her throat. “Yes, I’m still here. You’re probably right. Maybe it’s for the best.”
“Is this crazy? I don’t know. If I wasn’t so damned worried about you all the time … when I can’t see you, my mind naturally wanders to a worst-case scenario.”
“No, you’re right. I get it. We’ll give it some time then.” She felt as if the floor was shifting beneath her. She just wanted to end this call and bury herself in the case. Anything not to feel this sharp pain in her chest. Even for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Jo. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
“Me, too. Goodbye, John.”
After she clicked off her phone, she stumbled back to her cubicle. She sat there for several minutes, her whole body numb. She tried to get back into the rhythm of the case, but the momentum was gone. All she could think about was John. He said it was just a break, until the case was done. But it felt like the end of a play, not intermission. When this case was done, there would be another to take its place. What was going to really change?
She looked around the office and was startled to discover she was the only one left. Everyone else had called it a night. Forget it. I’m not getting anything else done tonight. She printed off the information on the case in Baltimore and swept up her notes, shoving them in her briefcase. If inspiration struck at home, she could pick up where she left off. Jo knew she would not get any sleep tonight. Even a sleeping pill would not provide refuge from the turmoil in her heart.
Jo walked out into the parking structure and was about to unlock the door to her SUV, when she was startled by a mewling sound. She looked around, trying to detect the source of the odd noise. “Hello? Anyone there?” Jo unlatched the strap on her gun holster, her heart beating rapidly.
She stood stock still, waiting. A moment later, a bawling sound greeted her ears once again.
Jo turned back toward her SUV. She walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle and reached under the wheel well. She was startled to feel soft fur. Just as she closed her grip around the little bundle, she felt sharp claws dig into her hand and she let go.
“Ow! Damn it. Didn’t have to scratch me.” She sucked on the back of her hand
, soothing the stinging pain. She bent down and gingerly tried again, this time speaking softly. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you.” Carefully, she pulled out the creature. She chuckled when she saw the black and white kitten in her hands. “Well, well. Looks like I’ve got a little stowaway. How on earth did you get up there?”
She held the kitten close in her arms and stroked its ears, eliciting an immediate thrum from the little body. “Probably looking for a warm spot on a stormy night.” Jo held the cat up to the light for closer inspection. “A girl, then.”
Jo stroked the midnight-black fur. It was warm and soft beneath her fingertips. “I don’t see a collar. Don’t you have a home?” The purring increased to a loud rumble.
“You sure are a sweet little thing. The shelters are all closed by now. Guess you’ll have to come home with me.”
Jo unlocked her vehicle and gently placed the kitten on the front seat. “Just so we’re clear. Don’t get too comfy. It’s only until I can find you a permanent home, okay?”
The kitten sat up straight, watching Jo buckle her seatbelt. Jo said, “You sit like a queen. Makes me think of Cleopatra. How ‘bout I call you Cleo for now?”
The kitten climbed into her lap, curled into a ball and fell asleep almost immediately. Jo sighed. “What have I gotten into?” She started the car and drove out into the rain. For one brief, peaceful moment, she forgot about her conversation with John.
Chapter Eleven
Turners Bend
October
Chip read through the chapter he had written the day before. He liked the details about the new FBI building, which had been covered extensively in Minnesota online newspapers. He began to realize a trip to the Twin Cities was in order. He made a list of places he should visit: Savoy Pizza, FBI Building, State Capitol, Lake Harriet. He jotted down a reminder to take his camera and placed the yellow Post-it-Note on his refrigerator—his make-shift bulletin board. Maybe I should take Lucinda’s advice and start acting like a real author. Have an office and do actual research, not just find information on the Internet.
Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 02 - Love Can Be Murder Page 6