by Unknown
The work was tedious. Knowing how little time detectives spent at their desks, she elected to use email. But deep down she knew she was going through the motions. No cop worth his or her salt would have neglected an identifying mark like the one she was looking for, had he or she known about it.
Intermittently she fielded the emails she received back from Tribal Police, none of which were helpful. Once Keira finished the task, she brought up the county’s digital file of mugshots and with a magnifying glass in hand, began examining the photos of the males in the pictures.
Three hours later she’d gotten as far back as 1997 and welcomed the buzz of her intercom. She straightened, rubbing her eyes. “Yes, Cal..”
“Matthews on line two.”
It was too much to hope that Tobias was calling about her earlier inquiry. More than likely it was something else to do with the arrest last week of a tribal member. Since the man had initially refused to identify himself, Keira had had no way of knowing Matthews should be contacted. Their last couple of exchanges had been terse.
She reached for the phone. “Tobias. What can I do for you?”
“You can tell me if you’re currently holding another of my tribe members in the Alger County Jail.”
Stifling a sigh, Keira answered evenly. “No, all of my inmates provided identification. Unlike Romy Snyder.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. When the Tribal Police lieutenant spoke again, the earlier edge in his tone was absent. “The query you sent out today said you were trying to identify a Native American male with a damaged left earlobe. He’s not missing that I know of, but that description would fit Joseph Atwood. Had his left lobe chewed up pretty bad by a dog when he was a little kid. What’s this regarding, Sheriff?”
Chapter 6
“When is this supposed to quit?” Finn squinted out the windshield at the snowfall, which was significantly heavier than it had been this morning.
“Next week.” It was two hours from Munising to Baraga. It had taken them forty minutes longer than usual to make the trip. Keira flicked a glance at the clock on the dash. It was nearing five o’clock. She knew Tobias would wait for their arrival.
Keira slowed when the taillights winked in front of her. Michiganders were adept at driving in snow, but there were plenty of tourists on the UP, and not all of them displayed the same skill. “If the guy in front of me reduces speed any more he’ll be stopped.”
“You should see the first snowfall in DC.” He’d spent a major portion of the trip with his head tilted back against the headrest, eyes closed and hopefully napping. Now he was alert, watching the passing scenery with interest. “First snowfall of the season every single driver promptly forgets how to drive in it. Tow trucks make a killing because they spend the whole day and night hauling people out of ditches.”
“It first snowed on October fifteenth this year. Shouldn’t be this driver’s first rodeo. Thank God,” she breathed when the car turned and trundled down a private drive. She pressed on the accelerator.
“Okay, give me a run down before we get there.” Finn had shed his coat and snow boots for the trip. With his seat back as far as it could go, he had his legs outstretched as much as possible and still managed to have his knees practically knocking on the glove box. “We’re going to a reservation?”
Without the driver in front of her, the road was even darker. “The L’Anse Indian Reservation has a split location on either side of Keweenaw Bay, with a smaller portion in Marquette County. The bigger parts are in L’Anse and Baraga and take up about a third of Baraga County. The reservation is the land base for the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community.”
“And the Native Americans are from the Chippewa tribe you said.”
“The Lake Superior Band.” Her eyes were straining to see the side of the road. Plows had been through that day, but she knew well that with county budget constraints sometimes they were pulled off the road when the snow was supposed to continue for hours. It was snowing far more heavily here than it had been in Munising. “It’s the oldest and largest reservation in the state. We usually don’t have much contact with their Tribal Police. There are small areas in Alger County that belong to the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians. We respond to emergencies there and maintain order until Tribal Police arrive from Manistique. Our jail isn’t a federal lock up, so we can’t keep a tribe member there. But when an arrestee doesn’t identify himself as such, things can get sticky.” Which was at the heart of the recent disagreement she’d had with Matthews.
She fell silent then, trying to pick out the lights from Baraga in the distance. Hopefully, Atwood’s mother would still be at the station by the time they reached there. The woman was the reason they’d made this trip in person.
A DNA swab could have been taken and sent to them in Munising. It would have arrived in a day or two. But at Finn’s suggestion, Keira had agreed to come in person and have him do the swab so the test could be run more quickly. The man didn’t just think like a cop, she thought, slanting a quick look at him and then away again. It was his compassion for the mother, left to sit and worry about her son that was equally responsible for his insistence. She knew from her experience with CPD that the two traits didn’t always necessarily co-exist.
It was with a sigh of relief that she finally turned into the station lot on US 41. It hadn’t been plowed either. She pulled into a spot in front of the structure that had recently been vacated and was void of the last six inches of snow. It was better than the alternative.
While Finn pulled on his coat and boots, she got out of the vehicle. Ducking her head against the wind, Keira made a hasty beeline to the entrance of the building. She fought to get the door opened against the wind resistance. Was surprised to have a hand cover hers. Finn opened it with enough ease to have her shooting him a look somewhat lacking in gratitude. “Show off.”
He had the grace to fight his grin. “I haven’t been battling the roads for two hours. I’m relatively rested.”
“Sure. We’ll go with that.”
Inside the door they stomped the snow from their boots. Wiping them on the mat provided, Keira moved past the empty desks.
“Looks like everyone went home,” Finn muttered in an undertone.
“Probably responding to weather-related calls.” She stopped at the first desk with a uniformed policeman at it. “Sheriff Keira Saxon, Alger County.” The stocky man with dark eyes and a graying crew cut slowly raised his gaze from his paperwork to her. The look on his face wasn’t friendly. She heaved an inward sigh. Apparently Tobias wasn’t the only one who believed she’d deliberately delayed alerting Tribal Police after picking up Romy Snyder.
“I’ll see if he’s busy.”
She managed, barely, to avoid rolling her eyes. “I’d appreciate it.”
The officer took his time rising and making his way to the closed door at the end of the room. Keira stayed where she was, aware of the interested looks from another officer nearby.
“I’m sensing a story here.” Finn’s voice was nearly inaudible.
“Just a misunderstanding.”
The man who had disappeared into Tobias’s office returned to the desk in front of them, sparing Keira barely a glance. “You can go in.”
When they entered the cramped space, the lieutenant was behind his desk and didn’t get up. Unlike his officer’s cropped hair, Tobias kept his long and pulled back from his square face. “This is Rose Atwood, Sheriff Saxon.” Only then did Keira notice the woman tucked into the corner of the room, behind the door they’d opened. “Joseph is her son.”
Plump with long dark hair liberally threaded with gray, the woman had once been a beauty. Fear showed in her expression. Her gaze darted between Keira and Finn.
“Sheriff. Is my son…dead?”
Keira shot a look at Tobias, wondering how much he had told her. “I can’t answer that right now, Mrs. Atwood. We have a body part from a victim who suffered trauma to his left earlobe some time ba
ck. We can’t tell more without a DNA sample from you.”
Atwood bowed her head, releasing a low, anguished moan as she clasped her arms around her middle. “Joseph is in Grand Marais. He met a girl at the casino and she has a place there. Not the kind of girl that he’d bring home to meet me. At least, he hasn’t yet.”
“When did you last speak to him?”
The woman didn’t look at Finn when he spoke. “Two weeks ago. Maybe three. He doesn’t have a cell but the girl does. He calls from hers.”
Keira and Finn exchanged a glance. “Can I see your phone?”
In answer to his question, the woman dug in the large handbag she carried and brought out a smartphone. She brought up her call log and painstakingly went through it. Finally, she stopped. Showed them the screen. “This is the number he calls from. Ever since Tobias brought me here, I’ve been calling it. Trying to reach him. No one answers.” Fear was apparent in her words. “The girl, she doesn’t like me. Because I tell Joseph she’s no good for him. She wouldn’t answer.”
Taking out her pocket-sized notebook, Keira jotted down the number, before looking at Tobias. “Did you call it?”
“Goes right to voice mail.”
“Always as a boy he wanted to play with his uncle’s dogs.” The older woman’s voice trembled. “They were for hunting, not for play, but no, Joseph wouldn’t listen. One day when he was six, he got into the kennel. One of them latched onto him before we could get him out. Practically bit his earlobe off. It took many stitches, but it never looked right. It was too mangled.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t think a person could survive losing an entire ear.”
“Do you have a picture of your son, Ms. Atwood?”
Instead of answering Keira, the woman looked at Tobias, who inclined his head. She reached into her bag again and withdrew two photos. One looked like it had been taken for a high school graduation. The other was a headshot someone had snapped with a camera. The damaged left earlobe was in full view. “I will want these back.”
Because the woman was afraid she’d never see her son alive again. Sympathy surging, Keira assured her, “We’ll return them. Ms. Atwood, we’re going to track down the owner of the phone number. We’ll talk to your son’s girlfriend. Try to find him through her. Do you know what he was doing in Alger County? Where he was working?”
She shook her head. “He got fired from the casino when he didn’t show up for work after taking off with her. He took his rifle with him. His traps. He learned from hunting and trapping from his uncle. He was good at both. I imagine that’s how he’s getting by, unless she has a job.”
“Did Lieutenant Matthews explain that there’s a test we can do to see if you are a match to the specimen we found?” Finn sank into the only other free chair next to the woman.
Rose nodded. “He said it wasn’t a blood draw. That you had another way.”
“We do.” He opened the small cooler he’d brought in with him and took out a swab kit. “It’s very easy.”
As Finn was explaining the test to Rose, Keira opened the door and left the room. As she hoped, the lieutenant followed her. “You’re positive the victim is dead, you said.” Tobias pitched his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry into his office.
“Carstens is a forensic scientist as well as an investigator.” Through the half-open door, she could see Finn swabbing the inside of the woman’s cheek. “He established that the wound was post-mortem.”
Matthews looked grim. “Joseph Atwood went to school with my youngest brother. He lacked direction, but he wasn’t a bad sort. He hasn’t been involved in any real trouble. Do you know who would do this?”
She hesitated. “We don’t have a suspect at this time. But we do have reason to believe he’s killed before. Another resident in my county.”
The lieutenant’s gaze sharpened. “There’s been nothing about that on LIEN.”
The Law Enforcement Information Network was Michigan’s interstate computer system for the criminal justice community. “All of this is a very recent development.”
Tobias’s gaze traveled to his office, from which loud sobbing could be heard. “If there is an ear, somewhere there is a body. Maybe it will be found before the tests results are completed. I hate to think of Rose waiting weeks not knowing.”
“It will be a matter of days, not weeks.” Matthews’ attention returned to her and she read the surprise in his expression. “I’ll keep you informed as things unfold.” She nodded toward the woman in the room. “Does she have a way home? It’s pretty wicked out there.”
“She lives down the street.” He pursed his lips. “It’s you who should be worried. Radar says we’re due for wind gusts up to forty miles an hour.”
“Great.” She saw Finn rise and help Ms. Atwood to her feet. “We weren’t supposed to have blizzard conditions in Alger. Once I make it to Marquette, I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
The lieutenant’s mouth twisted wryly. “I’m sure you will. But first you have to make it to Marquette.”
_______
Tobias’s words proved prophetic. Keira and Finn didn’t get ten miles out of town before she was forced to turn back. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, studying his cell, “now the forecast has changed for Marquette and Munising. The system Baraga is experiencing has spread across three counties.”
“It’s not a consolation,” she said darkly, easing back into the Tribal Police parking lot. “Someday I want a career like a meteorologist where I can be wrong more than half the time and it’s accepted with a shrug.”
“Stakes are higher in our jobs,” he murmured, and then called yet another of the town’s hotels. He’d been phoning since they’d made the decision to turn around, with dismal results. Even the casino hotels were full, due to both winter tourism and stranded motorists. If push came to shove, they could take shelter in the police station. But neither of them would be getting must sleep there.
“You do?” The surprise in Finn’s tone interrupted her thoughts. “We’ll take two. Oh, I see. That’s fine. We’ll take it.”
She waited for him to hang up before inquiring, “It? It is singular. It refers to one. One room?”
“Yeah.” For the first time she heard the exhaustion in his voice, and was reminded that the man hadn’t slept at all last night, and not much since he’d been assigned the job. “Motels are full, but there are some other bed and breakfasts on the list. You want to call the rest, I’m game.”
After a moment she shook her head. “No, it’ll be fine.” They were both adults. This was doable. Finn was likely going to pass out once he hit the… Comprehension struck belatedly. A bed and breakfast wasn’t going to offer two beds to a room. She took a deep breath before putting the car in gear. Keira just hoped someone tracked down the meteorologist who’d bungled this forecast and beat an apology from him.
_______
The room was charming if a little fussy and cramped. Its closet had been turned into a minuscule bathroom, and a coat rack sat in the corner next to a small dresser. It had been almost as difficult finding a restaurant as a room. The one brave diner that had remained open was doing a brisk business. It had taken well over an hour to get their food, which they’d eaten standing up in the packed establishment. Keira had spent most of the meal on her phone, talking to the night dispatcher, getting an update from Phil and then alerting Chase that she wouldn’t be home that evening.
Once back at their lodging, Keira preceded Finn into the room, on the phone again. She moved to the one chair, a period piece that Finn wouldn’t take a chance with. He placed the small cooler on the dresser. The DNA sample inside was protected until he could get it back to the lab. Then he took the opportunity to shower, which was damn refreshing, even if he did have to wear the same clothes. He padded back out into the bedroom wearing his jeans and tee shirt, carrying his holstered weapon, sweater, and socks. “All yours.”
She nodded, her gaze avoiding him as she disappeared into the bathroom. H
er discomfort was apparent, but she wouldn’t mention it. She was too much of a professional. He was counting on that because the bed was a double and there wasn’t another piece of furniture in the room that could serve for sleeping if he were inclined to be chivalrous.
He was too damn tired for chivalry.
Because there was no other option, he sat on the corner of the bed and answered his emails. Von Burg, the scientist to whom he’d sent the completed test results, had acknowledged receipt. She’d be the first of two to verify the outcomes before they could be moved out of preliminary status. But Finn was satisfied that his findings would hold up. And if he hadn’t already been certain, the visit with Rose would have clinched it.
He felt a tug of empathy for the woman. Some said the not knowing was worse than the truth, but Finn didn’t believe that. Uncertainty still allowed for hope and as long as hope lingered, even a fragile thread of it, the crushing agony of loss couldn’t entirely settle.
Keira had set the pictures Rose had given them on the dresser and he got up to look at them now. He gave the close up the most attention, turning the magnifying app on his phone to study the left ear trauma. The wound had either been treated poorly or hadn’t healed well. The ridges of scar tissue were evident even in the photo.
“So what do you think? Could he be our vic?”
Keira was framed in the bathroom doorway, drawing a comb through her tousled hair. She was in her uniform but carried her belt and weapon. The spill of light from the bathroom shot her red hair with streaks of gold. He recognized the pull in his gut for what it was. Hunger. And he tucked it away—mostly—just as easily.
“It’s very possible, but the only way to be sure is to run the tests.” His tone was self-deprecating. “If you haven’t guessed by now, I’m more comfortable dealing with facts and data than I am with pondering the theoretical.”
Her eyes widened with mock amazement. “No. Really? I’ll bet you were the kind of kid who ruined Christmas by disproving the physics required for Santa to deliver all those presents.”
