Trespass

by Marla Madison

  I watched the door close behind her, pained that my feelings for Taylor were beginning to evolve from excited to disturbed. On the positive side, finding out about being followed reinforced my determination to leave it behind. I turned out the lights and lay down on the bed. Only sleep could distract me now.

  TJ stopped at home before she drove to Richard’s apartment. She needed a new perspective on the case. It was interesting that Tasha, like TJ, thought there could be a mastermind in the background controlling everything that happened. She went into the conference room and made a new column.

  Ringleader?

  Anna Krause – motive, sister killed, possibly husband involved

  Martin Krause – motive, his father killed

  Kane Diermeyer – motive, his mother killed

  Those three seemed like the most likely candidates.

  Kane Diermeyer? Harder to see that one. As a music teacher, though, he would be able to use his position to worm his way into the minds of his students. Drucilla, for one, and he would have access to Lucian through her. And they were related, which would make them close but wouldn’t explain the sex acts in the home invasions.

  Anna, their mother, would have control of the sibs, but it was hard to think of a mother leading her children to such horrific acts. TJ paused, realizing she had begun thinking of the Krauses as the perps.

  Martin Krause’s job gave him access to young adults, and his position in the church gave him both the credibility and the opportunity to influence them. The sex angle gave Martin an edge in her suspicions.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a call from Detective Wade letting her know that the case files on the suicides and on Frank Krause’s accident hadn’t shed any light on today’s murders.

  TJ thought that if Sondra Jackson had been one of the original swingers and her death was a revenge killing, then what about the others who were in the swinger’s group at the time? If Sondra had been the instigator who had convinced the Diermeyers and the Krauses to join, that would explain her death, but what about the rest of them? And where did Teschler and the Chapman girl fit in? And if revenge was the motive, there could be a lot more people on the killer’s list.

  TJ drove to Richard’s apartment; she needed to see JR and spend some time with Richard. Before she arrived, she touched base with Richard only to find out he had been called in to work again. That left JR still with Janeen. She turned the car around.

  Chapter 46

  TJ made it to Janeen’s in time to feed the kids and gave her sister some time off to have dinner with her latest beau. She fixed hot dogs with macaroni and cheese for the kids, always a hit. Later, when they were ready for bed, she read to them. When they finally quit begging for more, she headed for the couch, intending to take a nap. She wasn’t worried about falling asleep while on babysitting duty; since she had become a mother, the least little squeak from JR awakened her.

  Janeen returned before TJ fell asleep. She explained that Al, who worked as a pharmacy tech in a nearby hospital, had to be on the job early the next morning so they had called it a night. After a long round of girl talk, Janeen left the room headed for bed.

  TJ needed sleep, but the case nudged at her brain whenever she put her head down. An old crime movie held her interest for about ten minutes, just long enough for her to realize what she had to do—keep working the case.

  She let Janeen know she was leaving and borrowed her sister’s car, a gray Honda that looked like every other car on the road. The Mini was an attention getter, and tonight TJ needed to blend in with the landscape.

  TJ drove slowly past the Krause place, but she couldn’t tell who was home. She parked a few doors down and walked carefully through the backyards, past Gemma’s house to the Krauses’ side entrance. Peering in one of the windows from as close as she dared, she could see Lucian watching TV and his sister doing something in the kitchen. Drucilla’s was the only car in the garage, so Anna Krause was probably at work. TJ crept back to the Honda and began waiting. It was ten p.m.

  At ten thirty, Drucilla’s car backed out of the driveway. Unfortunately from where TJ sat, it wasn’t possible to see the driver. It could be either Lucian or Drucilla, even both of them, but there were still lights on in the house. Lucian didn’t have his own car, but she had seen him driving Anna’s old Buick. TJ followed the car at a safe distance.

  The car turned north onto I-94, which made tracking easy. TJ followed as it exited the interstate about twenty miles north of Milwaukee and turned west through the small town of Allenton.

  She couldn’t imagine where either of the Krauses would be headed so late. There weren’t many businesses in the area and most of the houses were part of large farms. They left the highway and turned onto a narrow county road for a few miles before the car made a right onto a gravel lane. TJ, following at a safe distance, had to decide what to do. On the gravel it would be obvious she was following, and right now they had no idea she was in pursuit.

  She turned off her headlights and made the turn behind the Krause’s car. Luckily, she didn’t have to follow very far; the car turned in about a third of a mile later. She parked at the side of the road and watched as the car followed a long driveway that was flanked by mature pines. She drove in behind them after a minute with her lights still out and parked at a point just before the pines ended.

  As the car continued on, she saw a farmhouse in its headlight beams and, behind the house, a large barn. The car passed the house and drove around the barn, then entered a narrow, two-furrowed road. TJ left her car and ran for the barn, where she crept to the back corner of the building and watched the car’s progress to a wooded area about two hundred yards behind the barn. The car stopped at the beginning of the woods. TJ had just darted behind a large bush when a figure stepped out of the car carrying a flashlight.

  The silhouette revealed the figure was Lucian. At least she thought was Lucian. It could be Drucilla wearing clothing that resembled her brother’s usual attire, baggy jeans and a dark hooded jacket.

  TJ followed at a distance, confident she wouldn’t be heard as the ground remained damp from the rain. The night was clear for a change, and the half moon offered enough light for her to maintain an even pace. She zipped up her jacket as the cool air engulfed her. What the hell was out here, and who owned the property? It didn’t appear to be an operational farm. Were the trees a cover for a marijuana crop? Once she had followed the dark figure through a few yards of thick woods, the path entered a large clearing. TJ’s eyes, now accustomed to the dark, took in a macabre spectacle.

  A narrow cleared area about two city blocks long and maybe a hundred yards wide was surrounded by tall pines. In the center was a cemetery, its gravestones eerie apparitions in the moonlight. The figure’s movements began to appear feminine. What the hell would Drucilla be doing in a graveyard at this hour? And why was it so carefully hidden?

  Drucilla stopped at one of the graves, then knelt and placed a small bouquet in front of the headstone. Her father’s grave? It had to be. But why would Frank Krause be buried out here on this farm? All the headstones appeared to be the same. This had to be the cemetery of the church the Krause’s belonged to, the New Followers of Christ, although TJ had no idea why a cemetery would be secluded out here in the boonies like an illegal pot crop. She intended to find out.

  Craig Jackson lost interest in going out clubbing after his talk with Donald Braun. He sat in front of the TV in a brown leather recliner with a half-empty bottle of Jim Beam at his side, drifting in and out of sleep. Whenever he came to, he thought about Sondra, then about Braun, and wondered whether Braun had reported Victoria’s disappearance to the Tosa cops. The woman had always been flaky. She probably went somewhere and forgot to inform her husband. Braun’s theory of someone retaliating against the swingers just didn’t cut it for Craig.

  Why would someone wait sixteen years to get revenge? It didn’t c
ompute. He had heard rumors that Lilly Diermeyer, one of the suicides, had kept a diary that never surfaced after her death. If it had suddenly come to light, it might have opened old wounds, and it was possible someone could have realized a slowly festering grudge. The whole thing with Teschler, though, was weird too.

  Craig drifted off again, and when he awakened later the room was dark. He thought he had left a light on and wondered if the power gone out again. Just as he leaned forward to get up from his chair, he heard a noise that came from another room. His blood went frigid with fear. He recalled Braun’s visit and told himself it had made him jumpy, but he couldn’t remember if he had turned on the security system after Braun left. As he stood up to check it out, he took a punch in the gut so quickly and with such force that it pushed him back into the chair. He coughed from lack of breath and attempted to pull himself out of the recliner. Before he could stand, another blow landed, higher this time, just below his shoulder.

  With the room so dark and his brain muddled with alcohol, Craig couldn’t tell if his attacker had left the room. Disoriented, he tried again to stand. As he rose, he felt a warm liquid dribbling down his pant leg. Had he wet himself? A few seconds passed before he groped at his stomach and realized he hadn’t peed his pants; he was bleeding. Those hadn’t been punches he felt; he had been stabbed. The room spun as he staggered to a drawer in an end table where he kept his gun. Another blow landed before he could retrieve the weapon, this time striking between his shoulder blades.

  He should have heeded Braun’s warning.

  Chapter 47

  After TJ left I fell into a three-hour nap. Pure exhaustion must have taken over; I would have thought I was too upset to sleep. All these years I had manufactured a dream of perfection surrounding my summer with Taylor only to have it referred to tonight by TJ as a fantasy. She told me Taylor’s feelings for me were an obsession, not romance.

  I spent an hour going through Norman’s computer with no success. Taylor kept popping into my mind. When I saw him at the casino, he had been loving and kind. He couldn’t possibly be a danger to me. TJ had done everything but accuse him of causing the explosion of Norman’s house. Or maybe my misspent feelings made me feel that way. Unable to focus, I set Norman’s computer aside and went downstairs to the hotel coffee shop before it closed.

  I ordered a bowl of chicken noodle soup, served piping hot with a chunk of French bread and a bowl of whipped butter. I ate every drop of the soup and every crumb of the bread and ordered a slice of pie with a cup of coffee. I had a stack of mail to go through, but couldn’t stop thinking of Taylor and caught myself staring at my phone. I wanted to talk to him. It was a Saturday night, though, and he would be with his family. Under the circumstances, did I care if he was inconvenienced by my call? I dialed his private number.

  He answered immediately. “Gemma? Are you all right?”

  “I presume you know the answer to that already since you’re having me followed.” I doubted if I managed to insert the proper amount of coldness into my voice.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you really, or just sorry that I found out?”

  “I talked to your private detective at the hospital, didn’t I? I never tried to hide the fact I was there or that I was worried about you.”

  “This doesn’t feel like worry, Taylor. You’re having me followed. It feels like being stalked.” My words were more certain than my emotions. No matter what TJ had insinuated about Taylor, no matter what the evidence against him, part of me enjoyed his devotion and wanted to steadfastly deny that either of us was spurred by obsession.

  “I never intended to hurt you, Gemma. I’d like to talk to you. Not on the phone, though, in person. I can be at your hotel in half an hour.”

  I remembered the feel of his arms around me, his lips on mine in that last kiss, and I wanted to see him—I craved him as I would crave a meal if I were starving, as I would crave a warm fire if I were lost in a snowstorm. But I couldn’t forget TJ’s words that warned me not to be alone with him. I hesitated.

  A piece of mail on the top of the stack caught my eye. It advertised the Pewter Mug, a small restaurant on the east side of Wauwatosa. Casting caution aside, I quickly suggested that we meet there.

  “I’ll pick you up,” Taylor said. “I don’t want you going out alone at night.”

  “No, I’ll meet you there.” I would be carrying a gun in my purse, a fact I didn’t bring up. “And Taylor? Call off that PI you have following me. If you were going to have me followed, you could at least have found someone competent.”

  It may have been foolish under the circumstances, but I didn’t leave the hotel before I made sure I looked my best. Drawing from the small wardrobe I brought from the house, I attempted to look appropriate for a casual Saturday evening. I put on a pair of dark slacks, a mauve, loosely knit sweater over a silk camisole the same shade, and high-heeled black boots.

  Taylor was waiting in front of the cafe as I drove up and parked in a spot close to the front door. The inside of the restaurant sported candlelit tables, a tiny dance floor, and a three-piece group playing soft jazz. It oozed romantic atmosphere, something I had wanted to avoid. About two dozen couples sat at the tiny tables and in booths lining the walls. We took a table off to one side and ordered from a short list of house wines sold by the glass.

  “You look lovely,” Taylor said.

  I didn’t return a compliment although he looked so sexy I wanted to rip his clothes off right on the spot. It was going to take all my self-control not to fall under his spell.

  “Why are we here?” I asked in an effort to keep things serious.

  He kept his gaze riveted to my face while he reached into his pocket and set a tiny, black velvet jeweler’s box in front of me.

  The box held either a peace offering or a bribe, but whichever it was, I refused to be taken in by it. “You can’t buy me, Taylor.”

  I pushed it back across the table.

  “Just open the box. Please.” He placed it in front of me once more.

  Against a world of better judgment, I opened the case. A flurry of emotions whirled through my head when I saw what it held. It was my father’s most prized piece, a ruby ring that had been the glory of his collection, a ring he finally had to sell in a desperate attempt to keep his jewelry store from going under. The stone, a rare ruby approximately five carats in size, was mounted in an open filigree setting of white gold, sprinkled with tiny diamonds. The sight of it took my breath away, and I struggled to appear unmoved.

  “How did you know about this?”

  “I remember everything you’ve ever told me, Gemma. You told me about this ring the first time you talked about your father’s business being in trouble. I knew it pained you when he had to sell it. After I saw you at the casino, I did some research and discovered it was part of a collection in Chicago. I want you to have it.”

  “You know I can’t accept it.” TJ was right. The man was obsessed.

  “I’ve made a decision, Gemma.” His hazel eyes were dark with emotion. “I’m going to get a divorce. It’s going to take time, though. I want you to keep this as a token of my devotion to you until I can make it happen. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  My gaze kept returning to the ruby. Taylor’s speech, as well as the ring and its significance in my life, was the stuff of soap operas. I hated that I was tempted by such an ostentatious offering. The glow from the large stone beckoned to me. I couldn’t stop myself; I took the ring from its velvet bed and slipped it on my finger. In the soft hue of the candlelight, sparks of crimson shot from my hand.

  I had to be the greediest woman imaginable. I kept the ring.

  I returned to the hotel with the ruby ring adorning my finger. I couldn’t stop admiring it, still in disbelief over the extravagance of Taylor’s gift even though it felt more like a bribe. I must have bee
n out of my mind to accept it, even temporarily.

  My psyche interpreted the offering as, “Promise to wait for me while I get a divorce and you can wear this beautiful ring.” I loved the ring, yet my respect for Taylor had deteriorated. Now I would have to wait for my emotions to follow suit.

  Chapter 48

  Detective Tasha Wade couldn’t get the swinger case out of her mind, even after sharing a bowl of popcorn with her family and watching a favorite movie they had all seen a dozen times. Alone now, she sat in front of the TV with her mind on everything but the ridiculous comedy in the current movie. Every other joke had something to do with bodily functions, in particular those that took place in the bathroom. When her cell phone played the opening lines of “We Will Rock You,” she grabbed it. It was Haymaker’s ringtone.

  “You awake?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Funny. I’m at the station. I went out for a while tonight, but I’ve had that double suicide you told me about on my mind, and I couldn’t wait to look into it. You were right, there’s not a lot of information in the file. According to the records, there were four couples involved in the swinger’s group. The three we know about, the Krauses, the ones who were Martin’s parents, the Diermeyers, and the Jacksons, and then a couple named Braun, Victoria and William. And guess what we know about them?”

  “They’re Teschler’s next-door neighbors.”

  Haymaker chuckled. “Okay, you remembered that. But didn’t you tell me there were six couples in the group?”

  “Yeah, but Peacock got that from a second-hand source.” TJ had said the woman who told her about the swingers hadn’t been sure how many there were because she and her husband hadn’t joined. Tasha couldn’t recall where the number six had come from.