Killer Blonde

by Allan Evans

  “Cade Dawkins, famous for his remarkable efforts solving last year’s freeway shootings, including bringing down the criminal empire of Andrew Bishop, was central in breaking up a robbery this morning at the State Credit Union in Woodbury.”

  A woman reporter stood by a busy thoroughfare; vehicles of all sizes rolled in and out of view. The camera tightened focus on the reporter.

  “It was a Tuesday, like most other Tuesdays. Some people go to work, some run errands, maybe picking up a coffee or stopping at the bank. However, this particular Tuesday, three heavily armed men came to rob this Woodbury credit union.”

  Onscreen, a dark-haired man in his early forties wore one of those fur collared jackets only a cop would believe was still in style. “Woodbury police chief Dana Thorson.” The State Credit Union was shown across the parking lot behind Thorson. A reporter’s microphone entered the shot.

  “Chief Thorson, can you tell us what happened here today?”

  The chief turned toward the building, and the killer could tell the photojournalist had trouble keeping Thorson’s face in the shot. “At approximately 9:25 this morning, three males entered the State Credit Union. Two were armed with shotguns and the third was armed with an Uzi.” He looked right into the camera. “We don’t see many Uzis here in Woodbury.”

  Onscreen, Song thoughtfully replied, “I suppose not.”

  “Two of the perpetrators approached the tellers and obtained an unspecified amount of currency. The other perpetrator held the customers and the remainder of the bank staff at gunpoint.”

  Reporter Susanna Song: “Fortunately, one of those customers was State Patrol investigator Cade Dawkins.”

  Police Chief Thorson: “Dawkins contacted his supervisor to get emergency vehicles rolling. One of our Woodbury units was first on the scene. He was apparently spotted by the gunmen, who rounded up the hostages and sent them running out the door. The man with the Uzi ran with the group toward the officer, his weapon hidden from view.” Thorson looked off into the distance, his pale blue eyes squinting.

  “Dawkins apparently figured out their plan and incapacitated the two men remaining in the bank and went after the one with Uzi. He was able to disarm and subdue the gunman before my officer could discern the threat.”

  Reporter Susanna Song: “Sounds like it was a good thing Dawkins was there.”

  Chief Thorson nodded intently. “I’d say so. I would be notifying our officer’s wife and daughter about now instead of talking to you.”

  The scene switched to a crowd of media people. The focus of attention was a man in his low thirties, with slightly unkempt blond hair with a bouquet of microphones pushed into his face. His handsome face wore the bemused smile of a man not entirely comfortable in the media spotlight.

  “Investigator Dawkins, can you tell us how you ended up in the middle of this robbery?” It was the reporter from channel 9.

  Cade shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I was just here to see about getting a loan for a new truck.”

  “So, you weren’t expecting an armed confrontation when you arrived at the bank?”

  Cade grinned. “No, not really. The loan officer sounded so nice on the phone.”

  The members of the media broke out into laughter. Reynolds DeVries from 5 News stepped forward. “What happened when the three men entered the credit union?”

  “Two of the gunmen went for the tellers, while the third held the staff and customers on the floor at gunpoint. I was able to contact my boss, Capt. Rejene, and let her know the situation. And she got the cavalry headed to our rescue.”

  Another question from DeVries: “When did you realize you couldn’t wait for help to arrive?”

  Another shake of his head and Cade looked into the distance. “The moment I overheard their escape strategy. A gunman planned to blend with the group of hostages sent running toward the Woodbury officer. In the commotion, the man was going to kill the officer. Because he would never see the threat coming, I had to intervene.”

  Channel 4 news reporter, Colin Souder: “Wait, so you decided to take on three armed men by yourself? And you were unarmed?”

  Cade grinned. “No, I had my service weapon. I just never had the opportunity to take it out of its holster. Sometimes life moves pretty fast. And this was clearly one of those times.”

  The camera pulled back to Song in the parking lot. “The three men arrested for the holdup are currently in Washington County lockup after being treated for minor injuries. Their names haven’t been released yet, however a law enforcement source has stated all three are well acquainted with the criminal justice system. Live from Woodbury, I’m Susanna Song.”

  The killer was ecstatic, pacing around the cluttered room, the old hardwood floors creaking underneath his feet. The news story confirmed what he’d known since he decided to come to Minnesota. Cade Dawkins would be a glorious challenge. A conquest to surpass all his conquests. And his planning, meticulous by every standard he was aware of, had put the case right in Dawkins’ lap.

  The killer abruptly stopped and his face contorted with growing anger. There was a problem, of course. A massive problem. The case had been taken from Dawkins.

  Rage overcame him. The killer swept everything off his table, the glass shattering, papers scattering across the floor. The wall became his punching bag, holes appearing every foot or so. He kicked over chairs. Whatever he could find was hurled across the room and exploded on impact. The killer reached for a frame, ready to obliterate the metal-and-glass object when his eye caught his mother’s face looking back at him. Her long blonde hair framed a pale oval face. For a long moment he held his breath, looking at the dead women’s cheerful face, and began summoning his control again. He had the power, the intellect, and the sheer will to shape events to meet his objectives. He could push this case back to the Patrol, get it back to Dawkins. That was the game, after all.

  And this Goodwin idiot needed to simply go away. Forever.

  Reynolds DeVries leaned back in her comfortable seat. A creature of habit, her butt was typically in this same chair most nights—at her favorite post-broadcast hangout—with her producer and several of the production assistants. She looked around the table at the three girls who kept her life simple. Jenna, Ronnie and Nata were her behind-the-scenes angels, working tirelessly to minimize all the little speed bumps that invariably came along. It was their nightly routine: A little late-night sushi and a glass of wine. And the time with her girls kept life in perspective, winding down each stressful day.

  Ronnie was in the middle of her story about the fill-in weatherman pulling her aside to describe his ideal warm front when Reynolds’ cell rang. Frowning, she didn’t recognize the number. But, as a high-profile reporter, her network of sources could reach out to her on occasion.

  “Reynolds.”

  Hesitation on the line. Then, “It’s me, the cop who told you about the murders.”

  Reynolds held up a finger to her group and stepped away from the table looking for solitude. She found it in the hallway outside the restrooms. “I’m glad you called,” she began. “Wait, how’d you get this number?”

  The caller gave a gruff laugh. “Please, I’m a cop. And I know how to Google. Either way: easy.”

  “Fair enough,” Reynolds offered. “What’s up?” In other words, why are you bothering me at 11:15 on a Thursday night?

  “Look, I’m following this case and it’s not going well. The BCA’s man, Goodwin is a major load and couldn’t count his own balls and come up with the same number twice. All he cares about is the media—no offense.”

  Reynolds laughed. “None taken.”

  The voice continued, as the cadence of his speech accelerated. “Dawkins on the other hand is clearly the right man. I saw the channel 5 story about the Woodbury Credit Union robbery. Amazing. This man Dawkins is smart, brave and heroic. What better person to be on this hunt for the killer?”

  The conversation took a different turn than she expected. As
she’d become closer to Dawkins, she found herself drawn to him—against her professional judgment. “Well…” Reynolds offered noncommittally.

  The caller was having none of it. “You talked to Dawkins after the robbery. Don’t you agree?”

  DeVries nodded to herself. “Yes, I agree. There’s something special about him.”

  “With all three murders happening on state highways—which is the State Patrol’s domain—the case belongs with the Patrol. Especially when the state’s leading investigator was already on the case. When the same thing happened in Chicago, they didn’t go switching the case to another department. I realize the scope of the Patrol’s powers is different here, but why play politics with the lives of our women?”

  Reynolds had trouble hearing the man, as other voices intruded into the call. It sounded like the caller was also in a bar or restaurant. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one out on a weeknight. “I didn’t catch all of what you just said.”

  “Sorry, it’s noisy here,” The killer replied as he pushed through a crowd gathered outside a 1st Avenue bar. A busy night in the warehouse district of downtown Minneapolis, the sidewalks were full of Thursday night partiers. The first warm days of spring brought everyone out, it seemed. Intoxicated bar-hoppers wandered the sidewalks dressed to thrill, coming downtown to see and be seen. However, only one person here held the killer’s attention. A tall, rather striking blonde was just ahead of him, turning onto Sixth Street.

  He increased his pace to keep her in view. “Is it possible for you to give this some exposure? In light of Dawkins’ bravery, people are urging law enforcement officials to get him back on this high-profile case. This killer is probably stalking someone right now. Another Twin Cities’ woman could be this savage killer’s next victim, and this Goodwin idiot is getting caught up in inter-departmental politics. Something needs to be done.”

  “No guarantees, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  “It’s all I can ask. Gotta run.” The killer disconnected the call and slowed his pace. Now would not be the time to be obvious—though the time was fast approaching. He could feel it.

  The blonde, wearing black tights under a short skirt, stopped in front of Gluek’s. Talking on her cell phone, she looked up at the historic building. The killer approached carefully, keeping her back between them. When he was within five feet, he stopped to study her. Finding every inch of her fascinating, he was mesmerized. Her long blonde hair. Her impossibly long legs, her athletic body. Her impending death.

  Morning radio personality Ellie Winters would be as high-profile a target as the Twin Cities offered. Admittedly, she would be more difficult and would require more planning. He would need to get her on the east side of the Twin Cities, as she appeared to spend all her time on the west side. But that’s what made life interesting. Challenges.

  Morning. Not Cade’s favorite time to be alive, but you have to start your day sometime. The one surefire way to pull a brain back into the land of the living was coffee. It certainly wasn’t a trade secret of his by any means—if you were a cop, you drank coffee. It was that simple. Though most of his compatriots enjoyed the straight black variety, not especially caring if it came from a gas station, office pot, or even a vending machine, Cade’s tastes were more refined. However, refined was not the word used when he was teased for his mochas or lattes. On the positive side, being on the receiving end of good-natured mocking was one sure sign of acceptance into the Patrol.

  Walking up to the counter, Cade scanned the room. If there was ever a link between caffeine and electronics, this place had found it. Laptops, tablets and smartphones were in use at every single table. Most looked to be used by out-of-work middle managers, writers, or college students. One blonde, in particular, caught his eye. She was in a leather armchair by the fireplace, her feet up on the hearth as she pecked at her smartphone. Collecting his mocha, Cade headed her way.

  “Hey,” he said, dropping in the chair next to her. “Thanks for the invite.” He flashed her his best grin. Reynolds DeVries smiled back at him, her radiant smile doing funny things to his concentration. Trying his best not to stare, Cade asked, “What’s up?”

  “I got a call last night from my source,” Reynolds said. “This is the second time I’ve heard from him. Like our earlier conversation, he mentioned being a cop and was irate about the case being pulled from your hands. Said you were the right person, the only person, who could keep up with this killer.”

  “Nice to have support from the law enforcement community.” It was true. Much of the time, the law enforcement community could be aggressively territorial about their cases.

  Reynolds nodded and took a sip before continuing. “He mentioned the similar deaths down in Chicago. What’s that about?” She paused, studying him.

  Huh? “Chicago? I hadn’t heard about any similar cases there.”

  “It was difficult to hear exactly what he was saying. It was loud and people were talking. Like they just came into a room or he had just walked by a group. Anyway, he mentioned similar killings in Chicago, saying when the same thing happened, they hadn’t moved the case. I would have assumed you had looked into similar killings.”

  “We did. Nothing. Our killer exhibits a perverse interest in tall blondes and he’s also gone out of his way to make each killing resemble an accident. Our killer clearly is a pattern killer and a nationwide law enforcement search didn’t ping any similar patterns.” Cade paused, taking a sip of the caffeine-laced beverage. “Though maybe Goodwin has done something after all. I’d be surprised if he found a link—but I’d be even more surprised that we haven’t heard a single word about it. You know how Goodwin is about pandering to you media types.” He gave her a grin.

  Reynolds batted her eyes. “I wouldn’t mind a little pandering from you, too, you know? A girl appreciates all the attention she can get.”

  Rejene paced back and forth in her office, talking on her phone. She caught Cade’s eye and held up a finger, motioning for him to take a seat. Watching her wear a path in the carpet behind her desk reminded him of the caged tigers at the zoo. Something about the way they paced back and forth for hours longing to be on the outside, made him wonder if she would last. Rejene had a wild streak that her management career had yet to tame.

  After fingers were held up four more times, Rejene was off the phone. “Sorry about that. Playing politics with Washington County.”

  “No offense, but I’m glad you have your job and I have mine.”

  “Except you get the badass types shooting at you,” Rejene said, her dark eyes twinkling.

  “Rather have that than the politicians always looking to take a bite out of my behind.” Cade flashed her a grin.

  “Funny.” Rejene straightened up, fun and game time apparently over. “I’m guessing you didn’t stop by just to tease me.”

  “Reynolds DeVries got another call from her law enforcement source. Besides reiterating his very valid and justified belief that I would be the best investigator on the case,” Cade paused, smiling. Captain Rejene’s serious expression prompted him to continue. “Her source mentioned similar killings in Chicago.”

  “But we didn’t come across any similar killing patterns, did we?”

  Cade shook his head.

  “So, Goodwin made a discovery we missed?” She held his eye.

  “Rob and I both checked independently of each other. We didn’t find anything. I have serious doubts Goodwin found anything we missed.”

  Getting to her feet, Rejene came around her desk. “I shouldn’t be asking this, but do you still have a channel—an unofficial back door one—into the BCA? See if the Chicago reference is real.”

  Cade got to his feet, joining Rejene at her desk. “I do know someone.”

  “Talk to your contact, but keep it quiet, please. We don’t need our interest getting noticed by Goodwin or the media.”

  “It feels like I keep getting sucked back into this case.”

  “If people are getting kill
ed on our highways, it should be our case. Screw the legislature.”

  Cade laughed. “Are you sure you should be working around politicians? Though you may be the best person to keep them in line.”

  “Exactly,” Rejene said with a smirk. “If they don’t listen to reason, I might just remind them I carry a loaded gun.”

  Grace Fox agreed to meet after work at a Selby Dale neighborhood tavern. Grace was one of Cade’s favorite people in his time with the BCA. An accomplished crime scene technician, they’d crossed paths on cases frequently. He found her to be intelligent, insightful and irreverent. And frankly, anyone who doesn’t take authority—or themselves, for that matter—too seriously, was someone Cade could relate to.

  He found Grace at the bar, a glass of water in front of her. “You know, most people here drink something a little stronger,” he said, sliding onto the stool next to her.

  Grace tucked her long brunette hair behind an ear and smiled. “I’ve never been like most people. You of all people should know that. And I’m running a half marathon in the morning. Just water for me.”

  “What’s new at the BCA?” Cade asked.

  “Hey, did you hear Sellwood wants to get out of forensics and go to med school?” Sellwood was one of the BCA’s crime scene techs who tended to aggravate just about everyone who came into contact with him. Cade had disliked him almost immediately.

  “The only way Sellwood will see a medical school is from the inside of a jar. The man is an idiot,” Cade replied. Grace let out a belly laugh.

  He ordered a beer and caught up with Grace for a few minutes before getting to the point of their meeting. “I appreciate you seeing me. I need someone I can trust.”

  “Don’t we all,” she said, her expression becoming serious. “I’m curious where this is headed.”

  Cade offered a wry smile. “I know this isn’t our case now, but I’d heard rumblings about similar killings in Chicago. I’d looked for the same pattern, the blonde women, the unusual highway deaths, but never found anything matching this case. Has Goodwin found something I missed?”