Purgatory Creek

by C. E. Nelson

  They waited at the elevator, silent, staring straight ahead. Trask was sure the lift was broken, about to move to the stairway when there was a ‘ping’ and the door opened. The entourage shuffled in, turned to the front, and one of Lake’s agents pressed the button for the ground level. Trask saw that they were not going to the garage level and figured they must have been parked on the street. The doors opened, and the group moved toward the front door, one agent stepping in front to hold the door.

  It was a sunny morning, with a light westerly breeze. The front of the BCA headquarters faced to the west, the building casting a shadow that reached the street. Not that you could see the street. As Trask stepped through the doors a mob of reporters accosted him, cameras flashing, microphones being stuck in his face, reporters shouting questions.

  Trask was momentarily stunned by the frenzy before he turned to Lake and shouted, “You’ll pay for this Lake.”

  Two agents stepped in front of Trask, hands out as they pushed through the media, Trask and the others close behind, leading the way to the car at the curb now boxed in by media vans. An agent pushed Trask’s head down as they put him in the back seat, closing the door after Trask was inside. The agent forced his way around to the driver’s door and got in, Lake getting into the front seat next to him. The two other agents moved down the sidewalk to another vehicle.

  Media shouted questions at Trask. Why had he done it? How long had he been looking at child pornography? They slapped the window to get Trask’s attention, but he refused to look, staring through the screen separating the front and back seats at the back of Lake’s head.

  “Quite a group of admirers you have there, Trask.” Lake turned to look at Trask, his smile back.

  “You’ve sunk to a new low, Lake, which I didn’t think was possible,” Trask sneered.

  “Oh, as much as I’d like to, I can’t take credit for this. But I am enjoying it.”

  After several times going forward and then backing up, the car was able to get out of the space and began to move toward downtown.

  “Where are we going?” asked Trask.

  “Boss wants to see you before you’re booked.”

  The BCA Superintendent kept his office in the capital building. There was an office space for him at the BCA building, but he had higher aspirations for his career and wanted to be near the people who could make it happen. Except for the agent with Trask’s computer and phone, the men were all large, an intimidating group, and people in the hallway leading to the superintendent’s office stepped aside as they passed. The men crowded into the superintendent’s outer office.

  “Bob Lake to see the Superintendent,” said Lake to the neatly dressed older woman behind the large wooden desk situated to the right of the door to the inner office.

  “Must not get here too often, eh Bob?” teased Trask as the woman announced them on her office phone.

  “You can go in now.”

  The superintendent sat behind his desk in front of a bank of three large windows looking out at an office building. Trask looked out the windows and thought about the woman who sometimes sunbathed naked on the roof of the building across the street from his office. No such view here. The superintendent had a bulbous head with a receding hairline, his hair mostly gray. He had a pointy nose and chin and ears, and Trask often thought the man looked like he should be on Star Trek. He was thin, bony, his shirt collar loose around his long neck. He stared at Trask for a long moment and then removed his reading glasses, pinching his nose as if that would stop the headache building behind his beady eyes.

  “Trask, you continue to be trouble for me and this department, but this time you’ve gone way too far. I want your badge. Now.”

  Trask never liked the man. He thought he was an ass-kissing politician, which he was, but for the most part, he had stayed out of Trask’s hair and let him run the operational side of the BCA. The man was not smiling, but Trask guessed that despite the media firestorm that would follow his arrest, something his supervisor would have to address, he was sure inside the superintendent was enjoying this almost as much as Lake. Trask did not say a word, tossing his credentials on the desk.

  “You’ve disgraced this department for the last time, Trask. You are suspended pending your trial.”

  “You are already assuming there will be a trial?”

  “I’m quite sure. You’re done, Trask.” The superintendent turned to Lake who stood beside Trask. “Get him out of here.”

  Lake grabbed Trask by the arm, and Trask shook him off. “You’re making a mistake.”

  “Don’t threaten me, Trask! You’re in -”

  “I’m not threatening – "

  “Out!”

  Lake paraded Trask out of the capital office building so he was sure the media got a good look at both him and Trask. He forced Trask to stand next to him, hands handcuffed behind his back, while he answered questions. Trask’s face looked like a volcano ready to explode.

  They proceeded to the adult detention center where Trask was officially booked and put in a cell. The cell smelled of urine and the bums who joined Trask for a time before being removed. Trask sat forward on a bench and sniffed his sleeve, guessing the suit would never come clean, cursing Lake for it. He leaned back on the concrete wall, trying to get as comfortable as he could, assuming Lake would see to it that this was his accommodation for the night.

  Trask closed his eyes and tried to think. It had taken all of his willpower not to take a swing at Lake and his hatred of the man was still raging. Lake would suffer for this, he’d see to it, but he had to get beyond that. Who was after him and why?

  Chapter 20

  Palm and Grace were in the squad room when they heard about Trask.

  “Jesus!” said Grace. “You think he did it?”

  “Who knows?”

  “The guy does live alone, right?”

  “He’s got a serious girlfriend, I think.”

  “So? I mean how many of the pervs that we collar are married?”

  “Yeah. Hard to believe though,” replied Palm.

  They were both standing in front of a monitor hung from the wall, the video of Trask’s arrest playing.

  “You don’t think he had anything to do with the Newman kid going missing?” asked Grace.

  “God no. He was in St. Paul, for Christ’s sake.”

  “You sure about that? And he seems awful intent on pinning that Carlson girl on someone else.” Grace watched the rest of the piece on Trask, the reporter going through Trask’s work history and background. “Holy shit. He grew up around here.”

  “It’s nothing,” said Palm as he turned from the screen. But now he wasn’t so sure. He remembered there had been other missing children. They needed to look over those case files – and check out where Trask might have been at the time of the disappearances.

  Grace followed Palm back to Palm’s office. Palm sat behind his desk, Grace in a chair next to it. Palm picked up a notebook.

  “Dog team got nothing last night. They picked up a scent going up the side yard of the Jameson house and the house directly to the north but nothing after that.”

  “In the direction of the Little house?”

  “Yeah.” Palm had thought about that. Could Michael Little be involved? He’d need to confirm with the girl that watched him during the day that he had not been on his own for any length of time during the day. “Anything stand out in the reports from yesterday?”

  “Not any more than we heard last night. We better follow up on the guy at the park, and the guy that was an asshole.”

  “Anything on a guy named Arnold or Daniel?”

  There was a map of the area around Purgatory Creek spread out on Palm’s desk, the Jameson’s house circled in red. Grace looked at his notes and then stood, looking at the map, trying to get his orientation. “Daniel Arnold lives here,” he said putting his finger on the house. “He wasn’t home.”

  “OK, it’s Saturday, so hopefully people will be home. Take a tea
m and go back out there. I want statements from everyone we missed yesterday. You talk to the asshole guy, and I’ll find the guy that has been hanging out at the park and talk to the prior park manager. We still need to get to the school, but I have a feeling that will have to wait until Monday.”

  “I asked Judy to pull out any case files with missing children in the last ten years.”

  “Good. I remember a couple. Why don’t you have her pull anything having to do with complaints of men lurking too?” Palm made a note and then stood. “Lots to do.”

  She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Jenkins leaned back in her chair, stunned, thinking she was in a bad dream. The man she had shared a bed with last night arrested for having child pornography? Leaning forward, elbow on her desk, she held her head in her hand, trying but unable to process the news. This can’t be happening. Jenkins picked up her phone and pushed the button for Trask. As she put the phone to her ear, she became aware of people in the hall slowing and looking in at her as they passed her office door. Jenkins was up quickly, slamming the door.

  There was no answer. She tried again, and again until she lost count of how many times she tried. Finally, she saw the name below Trask’s on her contact list and pushed that number.

  “Trask.”

  The sound of Don’s name shook her, but the voice was slightly higher in tone. It belonged to Don’s identical twin brother Dave, Sheriff of Lake County in northern Minnesota.

  “It’s Mel.”

  “He’s had nothing to do with this, Mel. The guy can be a real creep but not this.”

  “I know. Have you been able to contact him?”

  “Tried, but it just goes to voicemail.”

  “Sorry. That’s probably from me leaving a hundred messages.”

  “And the media.”

  “Yeah.”

  “They may have grabbed his phone.”

  Jenkins hadn’t thought of that, but it was certainly possible. “Probably. I’m guessing he’s being booked right now.”

  “You know where they’d take him?”

  “Probably Ramsey County. By the capital.” They were both silent for a moment. “I’m going to head over there. See if I can find him.”

  “I’m sure he’d appreciate that, Mel.” Trask blew out a breath. “Somebody did this to Don. What has he been working on lately?”

  “Your brother is not exactly a chatterbox when it comes to work – or anything else for that matter.”

  “A man of few words and fewer brains.”

  Jenkins felt the beginnings of a grin. “Yeah. Well he did talk yesterday about the missing girl, Libby Carlson, and the guy he thinks killed her, Daniel.”

  “Of course. I saw that they had found her remains after the storm.”

  “He really thinks this Daniel guy did it.”

  “You know anything about Daniel?”

  “Only what Don has mentioned, which isn’t much.”

  Dave was pacing in his office now, feeling caged, feeling like he needed to be in St. Paul and not in Two Harbors. “OK. I’ll give Larry a call and see what he knows. Let me know when you find him.”

  “Thanks, Dave. I will.”

  Jenkins swore at herself for not asking about Dave’s wife, due with a baby in a few months. Dr. Linda James was a Lake County Medical Examiner, and the women had struck up a sort of long-distance friendship after Linda’s and Dave’s wedding. Jenkins dropped her phone in her purse and took a step toward the door when her office phone rang.

  “Jenkins.”

  “Lieutenant, this is Darlene. There’s a man from the StarTribune on the line who would like to talk to you.”

  Jenkins looked at the phone in her hand like she was expecting something to crawl out of the receiver. How in the hell had they found out about her and Don so quickly? “Darlene, you can tell him and anyone else that I am out. Thanks.” She needed to find Trask.

  The cyber-security unit of Ramsey County monitored all computers in the BCA office. The unit provided reports to BCA internal affairs of computer usage by employees, noting any unusual occurrences such as excessive internet time or accessing sites and content that the BCA had deemed as off-limits. These reports were then passed on to department heads for review. If unusual activity, such as contact with a suspected terrorist organization or the presence of child pornography occurred, an immediate alarm was triggered and a report was made. In the case of the discovery of child pornography, in the case it was a BCA employee, the report would go to BCA internal affairs, as well as to the Ramsey County child pornography investigative unit (CPIU).

  The CPIU then decides what their course of action will be with each incident. In each case, they take a deeper look at the individual involved in the incident as well as attempting to locate the providing source of the pornography. They follow all monetary transactions, tracing the flow of payments, looking at linked accounts. Often, they will monitor the individual to see if they acquire additional pornography. This can lead to new sources, helping them locate providers. Also, they have found that the purveyors of pornography will sometimes share with others.

  Larry Stoxon did not know much, but he was working on it. Stoxon maintained a wide network of contacts inside and outside law enforcement, at the capital, and was hooked into the rumor mill. One contact was Jason Reddy, a member of the child pornography investigative unit at Ramsey County. Stoxon and Reddy were part of a group of friends that socialized occasionally.

  “Jason, it’s Larry.”

  “Hi, Larry. And I can pretty much guess that you are not calling me about the party next weekend.”

  “What party?”

  “At Jay’s. Didn’t you know?”

  “We’re not on the best of terms. He got snotty with me when I made a comment about his awful tie the last time I saw him.”

  “Oh God, his ties are always awful.”

  “I know.”

  “So, is this about your boss who I should not be talking about with anyone?”

  “Of course. What can you tell me?”

  Reddy was one of the people who monitored employee computers. He would provide the reports to his supervisors for distribution. He did none of the investigative work but was studying to pass the test to allow him to be promoted to that position. Regardless, Reddy was good with computers.

  “Honestly, I only issued the alert about locating the files on your boss’s computer last night.”

  “You worked the night shift? Are you pulling a double?”

  “Yes. Lisa called in sick, and they couldn’t find anyone else. I’m just a slave around here.”

  “So, have you heard anything else about what you found?”

  “No. I’m sure they’re tracking things down and trying to decide what to do. I’m guessing this will be pretty high priority.”

  “Yeah. So, you think you could find out some more?”

  “It’s like a club with those guys, Larry. They don’t really share.”

  “I mean, maybe you could take a look?”

  “Oh.”

  “It might be good practice for you.”

  “I don’t need practice, and I don’t need to get caught snooping.”

  “Strawberry rhubarb cake. Just made it last night. I could bring a piece by at lunch?”

  “Oh God! I hate you, Stoxon. Two pieces. And bring whipping cream.”

  Chapter 21

  Tito Gonzales was looking out the window of his apartment in southwest Minneapolis, a beer in his hand. He rarely drank in the morning but today he felt like celebrating. As he looked across Crosstown Highway a 747 settled on the runway of the Minneapolis / St. Paul International Airport after approaching from the east, over the river. There was a tiny puff of smoke from the tires as the plane touched the tarmac. He followed it down the runway until another apartment building blocked his view.

  The noise from the planes used to bother him, but he learned to shut it out. Gonzales was daydreaming, thinking of his home in Mexico, not far from Cancun. He ha
d not been back to see his wife and child in over two years, but that was about to change. Tomorrow he would book a flight to Cancun for December. There would be no need to travel in overcrowded vans or pickups and sneak across the border. He wasn’t sure yet how long he would be gone, or if he would come back at all. All he was sure of was that he would not have to endure another winter in this frozen hell-hole.

  Today Gonzales was to receive a big bonus. The money would allow him to purchase the passport and identification he needed to fly home. It would also allow him and his family to live well for at least a year. He had visions of moving from their crowded apartment in Mexico to their own home with a yard for their child. Gonzales had not told his wife; he wanted to surprise her when he arrived.

  Gonzales was also a little nervous. He wanted to float the idea of him working remotely from Mexico. His work was totally online and he could see no reason why his boss would have a problem with the change. But still, he was anxious.

  Tito’s boss was his cousin, Pablo Gonzales. Pablo did not like to be called Pablo, he thought it made him sound too Mexican. He wanted to be called Paul. This had initially caused him some grief, others saying he was not proud of his heritage, but those detractors found it was best not to continue with their comments. Many found themselves meeting Paul alone, in places where they would eventually emerge with a severe beating, or not emerge at all. Paul took any challenge, no matter how slight, as a personal insult that needed to be dealt with in violence.

  Tito and Paul may have been cousins, but Tito knew that he did not want to upset Paul, and that was easy to do. Tito finished his beer and decided that he needed a little more courage before his cousin arrived with his money. He walked to the refrigerator for another.