Preying in Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  “You said you are concerned for every person in the area, that you didn’t want them to be, what did you say, ‘tormented for years as though they had been stung by scorpions.’ I think that’s what you said. Do you think Aaron is being tormented like that?”

  Jeremiah stole a glance at Deidre, and she was sure saw the glint of moisture gathering in his eyes. “Aaron suffered the sting of those scorpions for most of his life, but Aaron is dead. I keep telling you that. He died, and by God’s mercy the scorpion bites have been healed. He is at peace where he’s at. He told me that.”

  Deidre paused to see if he would say more. When he remained silent, she said, “Jeremiah, you told me Aaron is dead. How can he have told you he is at peace, if he is dead?” Jeremiah thought for a second.

  “I had a vision, and in my vision he said he was at peace. He also told me to go save as many souls as I could from the life he had lived. Told me his was a wasted life full of pain and suffering, just like the scorpion bites. He doesn’t want anyone else to suffer the way he did.”

  “Aaron,” Deidre began, but her companion looked at her.

  “You called me Aaron. I told you,” and his voice became quite agitated, “Aaron is dead. Please, never call me that again.” Deidre sucked in a breath.

  “I’m so sorry, Jeremiah. It just slipped out.” She knew she’d better not take that tack again.

  “Jeremiah,” she started over. “Do you know that something really bad happened at the Catholic Church last night?” He shook his head. “Do you agree with that church’s theology?” Jeremiah had fire in his eyes when he looked at her.

  “No!” he emphatically stated. “How can I when I read about children being molested by priests, when I see the cathedrals they build when people are starving? How can I when they sell indulgences?”

  Deidre had virtually no theological training, but she did know that was wrong. “Jeremiah, that hasn’t been done for centuries. Could you be wrong in what you say and think?” The question stumped him momentarily.

  He said, “I know what I’ve been taught.”

  Deidre steered the conversation in the direction of the desecration. “Let me tell you what happened in the church last night. Someone broke in and toppled all of the statues dedicated to the saints. Then they urinated in the communion chalice and placed it back on the altar. They poured blood, we hope it’s animal blood, in the baptismal font. They tore up some very valuable Bibles and defecated on the steps leading to the altar. Jeremiah, I have to ask you, do you think that’s right, that it’s God’s will?”

  She waited for an answer, and finally, he murmured, “No.”

  “Jeremiah, this is so important. I don’t believe you would do such a thing, but do you think anyone in Reverend Isaiah’s group would do that?”

  Jeremiah turned to face her, tears trickling down his weather-beaten cheeks. “I don’t know,” was all he said.

  He and Deidre sat for several minutes in silence, studying the river. Eventually she had to leave, and she reached over and placed her hand on his. “Jeremiah, you don’t want anyone to suffer, do you?”

  He looked her in the eyes. “No, I don’t. We’re all God’s children.” Then he surprised her. “Can we talk again, soon?” Deidre assured him they would and said goodbye.

  On the way home she tossed around in her mind the conversation that she and Jeremiah had, and she came to the conclusion that he had something he wanted to tell her but hadn’t. They would meet again, soon.

  When she returned to her office, she found a memo lying on her desk: “Sig would like to meet with you at 7:00 tomorrow morning. Call him if you can’t make it.”

  “Guess I won’t sleep in tomorrow”, she said out loud.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Deidre and Sig met in his office, which was located on the north side of town not far from the golf course. As she drove past, Deidre noticed a foursome on the second fairway, the one bisected by a creek. She saw one of the golfers throw his club in the air, his shot evidently finding the water. She smiled and thought, I hope that’s the worst of his problems today. Sig was waiting behind his desk, and when she entered his office he rocked back in his chair. He looked tired.

  “I’m too old for this, Deidre,” he said. “I wanted these last few months to go by quietly and then slip out of here to enjoy a long retirement. It isn’t going to happen. Did you hear what happened last night?” Deidre looked at him, puzzled, and shook her head. Sig continued. “We have a gunsmith in town, a good guy who does good work. A number of people I know have taken rifles and shotguns to him to have the stock checkered and to have the breeches engraved. He usually has a number of guns, both handguns and sporting guns, in his shop. Last night somebody broke into it and stole everything he had, including his tools. He carried reloading supplies, including powder, casings, and lead of different kinds. They took everything. Most bothersome, they left behind anti-government posters. Do you have any ideas about what’s going on around here? I know much of what has happened is my jurisdiction, and you’ve got some pretty tough issues of your own in the county. But the reason I wanted to meet with you—even before this happened—is that we’ve got some that overlap your responsibility and mine.

  Deidre took a moment to respond. “Let’s list everything that has happened and whose jurisdiction they fall under.” They began. Justin Peters’s murder had happened within the city limits, so it was Sig’s case. Jeff’s ambush had taken place in the country. That belonged to Deidre. The train derailment was on railroad property and their investigators, along with the National Transportation Safety Board, were working on it. Nevertheless, they knew they were responsible for doing what they could to help. The church was in the city, a police problem, while the note passed to Deidre by the girl at The Sanctuary was definitely something she would have to follow up on. Now the gun theft, that would be Sig’s problem, but Deidre was concerned where the guns had gone. They could be anywhere in her county.

  When they had the lists in front of them, Deidre said, “I’m having a real hard time seeing a pattern, Sig. Do you suppose we’ve got several groups that are responsible? Look, Justin’s death definitely looks like a hate crime. The Catholic Church, too. The girl who passed me the note, that sure looks like it might be a kidnapping issue, at the least a child molestation issue. The sabotage on the railroad, that might be a terrorism plot. Remember, ten years ago, the ore docks were targeted. I really don’t have any good theories about what’s going on.”

  Sig shook his head. “Me either. For now, what do you say we agree to open our files to each other? If you copy what you have to me, I’ll do the same for you. That way, maybe we can find some common thread. If we don’t catch up to whoever is to blame, I’m afraid something totally disastrous is going to happen.”

  Deidre left Sig’s office no further ahead than she was an hour before. She decided to take a run into Duluth to visit Jeff. He was in rehab, and she wanted to see how he was progressing. On the way, she kept picturing the list she and Sig had formulated, trying to connect one dot to another, but the events didn’t seem related.

  Jeff’s room was on the sixth floor of the hospital, but he wasn’t there when Deidre arrived. A nurse directed her to an exercise room, and as she approached its doorway, she heard the physical trainer offering words of encouragement.

  “Come on, Jeff, you can do it!” Jeff let out an exasperated gasp and Deidre heard him groan. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go in but forced herself. Jeff was standing between parallel bars, his forearms bulging, beads of sweat clinging to his forehead, and a determined look on his face. He was concentrating so hard he didn’t see Deidre standing in the doorway. She watched as he struggled to move his left foot forward, the brace on his legs keeping him upright. With what looked like total effort, he managed to shuffle the foot a few inches. The room was filled with cheers. His PT
applauded, and from another part of the room, two assistants came running, huge smiles on their faces.

  “You did it, Jeff! You actually took a step on your own. Way to go, buddy. I’d give you a high five, but then you’d have to let go of the bars. We’re not quite there yet, but it’ll come.” Jeff tried to smile, but his face was contorted by the exertion. Then he saw Deidre.

  “Well, partner, you saw history made today. What’d you think?” Deidre had a difficult time holding back her tears.

  “That’s really great,” she said, trying to make her voice sound upbeat, but inside she was torn up. Her friend’s progress was being measured in inches, and she wondered how he was ever going to recover.

  The PT assistant brought Jeff his wheelchair, and he settled into it with a sigh. He took Deidre’s hand. “I know it doesn’t seem like much, but I’m getting better every day. Scans show the swelling around my spine is going down, and I’ve regained the feeling in my legs down to my knees. I can wiggle my big toes, and put a little pressure on the therapist’s hand when I push with the balls of my feet. I’m telling you, I really believe I’ll be walking in a month or two. I just feel it, you know?”

  Deidre was amazed at his strength, and she thought if attitude made any difference, Jeff’s dream of walking again was not farfetched at all. She helped him wheel back to his room, and they visited until mid-morning, when an occupational therapist carted him away for another work session. On the way back to Two Harbors, Deidre decided to do more checking on a soldier named Aaron Schoeneger.

  *****

  Deidre gently knocked on the door of the county veterans’ service officer, even though it was open and she could see the man hunched over the paperwork on his desk. Deidre had never met the man, whose nameplate on the desk read “Jason.” He looked up and asked if he could help her.

  “I’m looking for the service record of a soldier who has recently moved to Lake County. I doubt if you’ve been notified, because he’s using an alias and I’m sure has severed any ties with the military establishment. Is there any way you can search a database and retrieve his records?”

  Deidre was out of uniform at the time, and the service officer looked at her dubiously. “And for what do you need his record?” he asked as he looked at her through squinted eyes. Deidre could tell she should have approached him differently.

  “I should have introduced myself,” she said as she pulled out her badge. “I’m Sheriff Deidre Johnson of this county. I suspect that this person I’m looking for is in our county and that he is suffering from PTSD. From the conversations we’ve had, I’m almost certain I’m right.”

  The officer offered his apologies. “We’re careful about giving out information to the public, but in this case, I think we can do a search. What was his name again?” Deidre watched as Aaron’s name was typed into the computer, and in seconds the information for which she searched was displayed on the screen. Jason hit the print icon, and she heard the usual clicks and whirs as the printer begin to spew out information. He handed her the sheaf of papers. Deidre thanked him profusely and headed upstairs to her office, where she spread the papers out on her desk and began to read.

  Name: Aaron David Schoeneger

  Place of Birth: Minneapolis, MN

  Years of Service: 2001-2007

  Date of Birth: December 12, 1983

  Branch of Service: Marine Corps

  Duty: Special Ops

  Tours of Duty: Afghanistan (1), Iraq (1)

  Discharge Date: January 1, 2007

  Rank: Corporal

  Current residence: Unknown

  Awards: Silver Star for Special Ops, Navy and Marine Achievement Medal, Bronze Star (2), Purple heart (2).

  Corporal Aaron Schoeneger was assigned to the 2nd Reconnaissance Battalion, stationed at Camp Lejeune, N.C. During his two tours of duty, Corporal Schoeneger was assigned to a six-person recon group, first in Afghanistan, then in Iraq, serving as a targeting specialist for precision-guided munitions. During his time served in combat, Corporal Schoeneger was wounded twice. He was cited for actions exceeding his duty by holding his ground while under heavy fire while laser-guiding missiles to strategic targets. Although wounded in his arm, he refused to leave his post. On another occasion, Corporal Schoeneger was cited for bravery in the face of enemy fire by holding off a squad of the Republic Guard, allowing his recon platoon to escape unharmed to safe positions, then retreated under their covering fire. He was wounded in the operation. On two separate occasions, Corporal Schoeneger placed himself in danger by retrieving wounded comrades and carrying them to safety.

  Deidre didn’t understand the significance of each award, other than the purple heart, but without a doubt, this Aaron Schoeneger was a military hero, a true warrior in every sense of the word. She wanted to know what, exactly, had been his duties. She called a friend.

  “Hey, Leon,” she said when he answered the phone by saying “Yo.” Leon had been a Marine Corps sergeant until a bomb went off in his barracks in Beirut, Lebanon, destroying his hearing and causing him lasting vertigo. “Leon, I’m checking on a guy who was a Marine, recon specialist. His record shows he was engaged in precision-guided munitions. What the heck does that mean?”

  She heard Leon cough, and then there was a moment of silence. “It means he was in the thick of things. You see, some of those smart bombs need to be guided. The way that’s done, someone on the ground has to be close enough to the target to light it up with a laser. The missile guiding system locks onto the laser beam and follows it directly to the target. I knew some of those guys. They had balls made out of brass, I think. I’m telling you, they got into some awfully tough situations. Then after the bomb hit, it was recon’s job to assess the damage and make a field report back to command. Then came the tough part, getting out. A lot of them didn’t make it, and the way things were, they sure as heck didn’t want to be taken prisoner. They almost always fought until they either made it or were killed trying. That help you at all?”

  Deidre thanked him and promised they’d get together for coffee and a visit soon. After she hung up, she thought she’d make another run at The Prophet to see if she could shake something out of him concerning The Sanctuary and the Reverend Isaiah.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  As she drove north, up Highway 2, she couldn’t stop thinking about Jeff. The prognosis was that he’d never walk normally again, the damage had been so severe, but Deidre believed in her gut that his recovery would be complete. Is my optimism only wishful thinking? she wondered, then put that thought aside, but she couldn’t shut her mind off. A myriad of thoughts streamed through it as the miles sped by. She began to mull over the cases she and Sig had open, the murder of Justin Peters, Jeff’s ambush, the church vandalism, even the train sabotage. By the time she reached The Sanctuary, she had come to no conclusions about any of them, didn’t even have an inkling how to proceed.

  Deidre guided her vehicle to a stop near the chapel, and walked down the dirt road to where the compound buildings sat. As was typical, women and children were working in the gardens, and there were no men to be seen. As she approached two girls who were on their knees, weeding what looked to her like a row of beets, the reverend scuttled from one of the buildings and intercepted Deidre’s path before she could reach the girls.

  “You seem to be spending a lot of time here,” he snapped. “Now what do you want?” Deidre looked into his cold, blue eyes.

  “I came to talk with Jeremiah, if you don’t mind.” She regretted asking if he minded. He should have no say in the matter.

  Reverend Isaiah answered, “He isn’t here, so it would be best if you leave.” He almost spit the words at her.

  “But I am here.” The reverend spun around at Jeremiah’s announcement. “I’m here, and I’d like to talk to you, Sheriff. Maybe we can go down by the river where we sat the
last time.” He ­motioned for her to follow, turned and slowly walked away, leaving the reverend standing with a scowl on his face.

  When they reached the bench by the river he sat down, releasing an audible sigh that sounded to Deidre more like a sob, but he shed no tears.

  “Jeremiah, I’d like to talk to you about Aaron Schoeneger again. I know you say he’s dead, but I’m interested in what kind of man he was. He was a hero in the war, wasn’t he?”

  Jeremiah’s shoulders slumped. “I suppose some people think he was, but I think he was a murderer. He killed too many people.”

  Deidre sat for a moment and then spoke quietly. “Jeremiah, I’ve been told that an act committed in war is not to be confused with murder. I heard a minister once say that murder is an act committed against innocent people. Killing in war is more an act of self-defense. Would you agree with that?”

  Jeremiah didn’t answer, and Deidre didn’t push. They sat in silence for several minutes before he spoke. “I believe you,” he said, and several seconds went by. “But Aaron murdered people during the war. He killed innocents, many of them, children, women.”

  To that pronouncement Deidre had no response. Eventually she asked, “What was Aaron’s job during the war?”

  Jeremiah toed the ground and hung his head. “He was in recon. Do you know what that means?” Deidre nodded.

  “That means Aaron was in a patrol of about six men who went into enemy territory to gather information. Right?” After she said that, she looked at Jeremiah, who had a far away look in his eyes. Deidre asked another question. “Did Aaron do other things behind enemy lines?”

  Jeremiah flinched when she asked that question.

  “He was the one that targeted missiles.” He heaved a huge sigh.