Smoke radioed Zubinski, “Three forty, Seven twenty-eight.”
She was out of breath when she answered. “Three forty?”
“Coming in, and checking officer safety.”
“Threat not yet found. Extreme caution advised.”
“And the victim?”
“Appears to be a gunshot wound,” she said.
“Copy. Communications, copy also?”
“Ten-four, Three forty, and will send info to everyone’s mobile laptop.”
He was shot. “Please God, don’t let Martin die.”
“This is a helluva deal in a church on a Sunday night.”
I silently prayed the rest of the way. Smoke parked his car a block from the back of the church, on the side where the windows started about eight feet up. He let Communications and the deputies listening on channel three know we had arrived. We got out quickly, drew our guns then stood in the dark assessing the surrounding area for a moment. There were large trees on the church lawn, but no bushes, or other real hiding places. Smoke leaned in close to my ear. “I’ll go left, you go right, and we’ll meet at the front door.”
I nodded and we did as Smoke had directed, ducking down to go under the view of the windows. Neither of us encountered a soul, or spotted anyone lurking around. When we met, I reached up and tried the front door. It was locked. “Any doors on the east side?” Smoke said.
“No.”
“That leaves the one on the west side.” He lifted his hand in “follow me” gesture and we crept back to the west entrance. Zubinski was standing, service weapon clutched with both hands in the ready position. She had a visual of both the side entrance and the door that led into the sanctuary. No one coming or going would get past her without permission.
“Weber’s in there with the victim.” She nodded at the sanctuary. “We haven’t cleared the building yet.”
“Stay where you are and we’ll do that when back-up arrives,” Smoke said.
I couldn’t get to Martin’s side fast enough. Only it wasn’t Martin lying on his back with a grapefruit-size blood stain on the right side of his chest. From his clothing, beard, and hair style, he looked to be a member of Martin’s congregation, but one I hadn’t seen before. I felt a twinge of guilt at my sense of relief. A man was down, for heaven’s sake, and I was selfishly happy it was not Martin Geiger. Where had he gone? He had called from the church less than thirty minutes before.
Weber had one gloved hand on the man’s chest to slow the bleeding, and one on his wrist to monitor his pulse. “You’re going to be okay,” he said. I sensed Weber had told him that countless times already.
I knelt on the other side of the dark-haired injured man and picked up his hand. He opened his eyes, aware that someone new was there, and turned my direction. “Hi, I’m Sergeant Aleckson. The ambulance will be here any minute to get you to the hospital.”
He closed and opened his eyes in acknowledgement.
“Can you tell me your name?” I said.
In a barely audible whisper he said, “Juergen Dettweiller.”
Juergen Dettweiller. “Mister Dettweiller, do you know who did this to you?”
He shook his head. “The shot came from behind me.”
“You didn’t see anyone else in the church?”
“Just my intended. Eliso,” he said.
“Not Martin?”
“No.”
I glanced up at Smoke who was hovering near Weber. In addition to the one down, we now had two missing.
Deputies Joel Ortiz and Bruce Holman hurried in behind the male and female paramedics. While they attended to Juergen, Smoke waved at me and the other deputies to gather around him. He spoke very quietly. “We got a lot going on here. Mister Dettweiller was shot in the back and didn’t see his assailant. A woman by the name of Eliso was with him, and we don’t know where she is. We got a call from a man named Martin Geiger from this church not thirty minutes ago. He is also missing. Ortiz, what did you find at his house?”
“No sign of a forced entry, Detective. Both the front and back doors were unlocked. I walked through the house. No one was there, and I found no signs of anything out of place.”
“All right. Sergeant?”
I took over. “I was on the phone with Martin at about eighteen twenty-five, and the last thing he said to me was that he heard someone walking in the church. Since he’d spotted someone lurking in the dark in his home a few minutes before that, I was afraid they’d come here looking for him. It’s possible he’s gone to the hardware store in town where he works. But he wasn’t sure that’d be safe.”
“We’ve got to consider that someone nabbed him and the woman, Eliso,” Smoke said.
“We haven’t cleared the church yet,” Weber threw in.
“Which is what we’re gonna do now. Holman, I want you to follow the ambulance to the hospital and stay as close to the victim as possible. He was shot in the back, but has a wound in his chest, which tells me the bullet likely passed through him. In any case, he’s gonna need surgery.”
Holman was in his first year with the department, still on probation, and looked a little surprised with his assignment. He nodded. “Yes, sir.” The paramedics had Juergen loaded, and they headed out the door with Holman close behind them.
Smoke took a deep breath then exhaled. “We need to check the church, make sure the shooter isn’t hiding out here. And then we’ll get the scene processed for evidence. And hopefully find some clues of what happened to Martin and Eliso. We’ll check the hardware store, if need be.”
“I think Martin would have called me by now if he was there.” My stomach was tight with tension, wondering what had become of him and Eliso.
The church was simple in its design, without the nooks and crannies of so many others I’d been in. The sanctuary had a long row of pews with the altar up front, which actually was the back of the church, if the main entrance was the considered the front.
The pastor’s office was divided into a smaller reception area where the secretary sat, and a larger area where the pastor worked. That inner door was locked, and we’d need the key to gain access. There was a storage room next to that.
The basement was one big open area, with a kitchen at the far end. There were two restrooms, and a furnace/utility/storage room. We flipped on lights as we made our way through the entire building.
Weber, Ortiz, and I did the search. Zubinski stood guard, and Smoke cordoned off the immediate area where the injured Juergen had lain.
“Seven twenty-eight to Three forty and Six oh eight.” Mandy Zubinski.
I let Smoke answer. “Go ahead.”
“A Reverend Joos is here. He says he’s the pastor here.”
“Ah, I don’t think the Rev is going to be too happy with any of this,” Weber said as he shut the utility room door behind him.
“A service in the morning, a shooting in the evening. Not what you expect in a church on any given Sunday,” Ortiz said.
“Especially in a community that has zilch for crimes,” Weber added.
I took one last look around the basement then followed Weber and Ortiz up the steps. Reverend Joos was standing next to Mandy with a face so long his chin practically rested on his chest. His peoples’ sanctuary had been violated. Smoke joined us from the crime scene area.
“I was dozing in my chair and awoke to the flashing lights of the ambulance. What has happened?” Reverend Joos’s voice was shaky.
Smoke gave me a small nod. I stepped closer to the pastor and shared the highlights of someone being after Martin Geiger, and that Martin had called me from the church. “When the deputies got here, Martin wasn’t here, but Juergen Dettweiller was here. He had been shot.”
“Juergen. Shot with a gun? We don’t have guns. And who would be after Martin? He is a trusted man, with no enemies.”
I nodded. “We’ll get everything sorted out. In the meantime, Martin is missing, and in danger. And so is a woman who was with Juergen. A woman named Eliso.”
“A woman with Juergen? I do not know her. Martin is . . . missing?” It was apparent the reverend was struggling to process the information.
“Reverend Joos, we’ve checked the whole church, except your office. If you would unlock the door, we’ll take a look to be sure no one is in there,” I said.
Joos pulled the keys from his pants pocket, walked over, and unlocked the door. I flipped on the lights, and Weber and I did a walk through. No one there, injured or hiding out. When we’d finished and rejoined the group, I asked the reverend, “Do you have any idea where the two might have gone? It’s possible that Martin is with Eliso.”
Reverend Joos thought a moment, his eyes blinking over and over. “I know of one place to check.” He headed into the sanctuary and proceeded toward the altar area. Smoke and I followed behind him, and the other three remained in the entry area. The altar was raised five feet above the congregational seating. Joos stopped short when he saw the crime tape between the altar and pews.
“Where are we headed?” Smoke’s question brought the reverend back to our quest. He pointed at the pulpit then climbed the six steps to reach it. He went behind the solid wood, curved structure he likely stood behind when he preached. It appeared everyone would have a clear view of the preacher from there.
He bent over, slipped his hand under a mat that lay on the floor on the backside of the pulpit, hooked his fingers on something, and lifted what turned out to be a trapdoor. Light shone from the under floor area.
I reached over and gave Smoke’s arm a squeeze in anticipation, then rested my hand on my Glock. In case.
“It is Reverend Joos. Martin, is that you, are you down there?”
There was no response.
Smoke tapped the pastor’s shoulder and pointed his thumb, instructing him to take a step back, which he did. Smoke spoke in a nearly soundless whisper. I read his lips. “Where do the steps lead to?”
Reverend Joos swept his arms in a big circle and whispered, “There is a crawl space under the whole of the altar area.”
Smoke’s eyebrows lifted. “Crawl space?”
“It is five feet deep. A hiding shelter. This church was built in the late nineteen forties. Nineteen forty-eight.”
Why would a church need a hiding space?
Smoke nodded. “Who knows about this shelter?”
“Elders of the church. Some members. We do not talk about it, mainly because we do not want the children to know about it.”
“Martin and Juergen. They both know?”
“Yes, they are elders, and Martin also does maintenance.”
“Okay.” Smoke pointed at my gun then at the opening, requesting that I cover him. I crouched down near the open trapdoor, across from Smoke. “This is Detective Dawes with the sheriff’s office. I want you to know that you are safe. Please come out.”
A faint whimpering sound made its way up from the shelter. Smoke pointed at me. I holstered my gun and Smoke unholstered his. On a hunch I said, “Eliso? Eliso, I am a friend of Martin’s. I know of Juergen. We’re here to help you, Eliso.”
There was a creaking noise, like someone rising from a wooden chair. “Come out, Eliso. Come on out.”
I heard a footstep on the shelter’s wood stairs, held my breath, and stood up. Smoke did the same, and took several steps back. A woman with violet-colored eyes and long, straight brown hair slowly appeared in the flesh. She was around my age, with classic features. She lifted her eyes that somehow held both terror, and relief, in them. A few tears sprang from her ducts and rolled down her already wet face. Smoke holstered his service weapon.
I held out my hand. “Eliso?”
She took my hand in both of hers, cast her eyes to the ground, and nodded.
“You speak some English?”
She released one hand from mine, held it up, drew her thumb and index finger almost together, indicating very little, and shook her head.
Martin said Juergen had been teaching her some words. “Okay. Let’s get you somewhere safe until we get this all straightened out.” I glanced from Reverend Joos to Smoke. “Any ideas, Detective?”
Reverend Joos cleared his throat. “I could perhaps find a suitable refuge.”
“Thanks, Reverend, but the people who shot Juergen may be looking for her.”
Eliso’s eyes widened at the mention of Juergen’s name. “Juergen,” she said under her breath. She was no doubt wrought with anxiety over what had happened to him. Had she witnessed the shooting, or heard it from inside the shelter?
Smoke studied Eliso. “We’ll take her to one of our women’s and children’s centers. We keep the locations private so the residents are protected. And we also gotta find someone who can translate, interpret, so we can get her testimony. She’s an invaluable witness for our case.”
“Maybe Zubinski can drive her there,” I said.
Smoke nodded. “Sure.” He pulled his radio from his belt and pushed a button. “Seven twenty-eight, have Seven thirty-three cover your post and come to the altar area.”
“Copy.” Zubinski’s eyes grew larger the closer she got to us, no doubt wondering why I was holding the hand of a mysterious woman who had seemingly appeared from nowhere.
“She was in the hiding room shelter,” I said then pointed to the open trapdoor, visible when she hit the top step.
“There’s a hiding room shelter under the floor?” she said.
“This church was built right after the world war,” Reverend Joos told her, which did not explain it very well for me, and from Mandy’s expression, didn’t for her either. I’d ask Gramps more details about the post-war era sometime.
“Mandy, have Communications line up one of the safe houses for Eliso here. She doesn’t speak much English. I don’t think we have anyone on our local list who speaks Georgian, but we do have at least one Russian interpreter. They can help us with the basics until we can locate someone who speaks her language. Hennepin County might have someone,” Smoke said.
Zubinski opened her mouth like she was going to ask a question then shut it again.
I raised my hand. “Detective, it might be helpful if Eliso is able to see Juergen, if he’s stable enough. It might alleviate some of her fears. And he can maybe communicate to her that we mean her no harm, and are taking her to a safe house for the night.”
“That’s a good idea, Sergeant. Mandy, on your way to the hospital, get a hold of Holman and tell him you’re bringing someone to see Juergen, when it’s feasible. Wait there as long as you need to, as far as I’m concerned. This little lady needs all the reassurance in the world.”
Zubinski looked at me as she reached out her hand to Eliso. “Front seat, back seat, run risk?”
“I’d put her in the front seat. She’s not under arrest, plus she’s already scared half to death. Keep her close, but I think even if she wanted to run, she wouldn’t know where to go. From what I’ve gathered, it sounds like she’s only been in the U.S. a short time.”
“I agree with the sergeant,” Smoke said.
Zubinski pulled gently on Eliso’s hand, and I nodded my assurance that she was safe with her. As they walked away, Smoke looked at Reverend Joos and said, “We’d better check the crawl space.”
“As you wish.”
Smoke laid himself face down on the floor and scooted forward until his head was over the opening. He gripped the edge of the opening with his hands, bobbed his head down for a quick look, then brought it back up. He repositioned himself and took another gaze from a different angle. “No place to hide once you’re in the hiding place. Appears clear.”
He pushed himself to his feet from his prone position and headed into the shelter. I followed. The ceiling was five feet high and we both had to duck to avoid hitting our heads. There was a single bulb in the center of the space that was around fifteen by thirty feet. A number of wooden chairs sat around in no particular order. We sat on two of them and looked around. There was a pile of woolen blankets stacked on the far end, and a sink and
toilet on the other end. Thinking of the layout of the church, I surmised the plumbing would line up with the bathroom on the lower level.
“You could keep yourself hydrated, anyway,” I said.
“I’m thinking this might be a nice spot to have a little retreat.”
“It doesn’t even smell musty.”
Smoke pointed to vents in the floor. “No, they thought of everything. Except food, maybe. But they coulda had stores on hand back in the forties.” We got up into our crouching positions and headed back to join Reverend Joos.
“I do not understand why the woman with Juergen Dettweiller was hiding there. And who would shoot Juergen?” he asked again.
I touched his shoulder. “Reverend Joos, Martin and Juergen got caught up in a case. One that we’ve been investigating. It started with the woman dying in a Winnebago County woods, the one we told you about almost two weeks ago.”
Joos pursed his lips. “Martin and Juergen knew that woman?”
“No. At least Martin didn’t. We can’t discuss the details of the investigation yet, but I’m sure both of them will want to explain everything they know when all is said and done.”
Please keep Martin safe so he can live to tell what happened. And Juergen too.
“I cannot understand what they have to do with such things, but I must trust you as the authorities in this county to do the right thing. And also to find Martin.”
“We don’t know much about Martin. Does he have family in the area, friends he might turn to for help?” Smoke asked.
“He has no blood family, but he could turn to any of his brothers or sisters in our congregation. Any one of them would do everything they could for him. Martin is a fine man.”
Where could he be?
“Winnebago County, Three forty.”
“Go ahead, County.”
“Seven ten and Seven twenty-three are rolling with the crime lab van and will be there in twenty.”
“Copy, thanks.”
“At nineteen eleven.”
Deputies Brian Carlson and Todd Mason were assigned to Major Crimes for the week, starting that morning at a minute past midnight.
A Death in Lionel's Woods Page 21