by C. M. Sutter
“Did you guys see the breaking news last night about the judge’s wife?” I asked.
Clayton whistled and raked his hands through his hair. “Sure did. What a nightmare. Don’t they have young kids?”
“Yeah, they aren’t even in middle school yet.”
“Is it supposed to rain all day?” Billings looked at the sky and pulled the hood of his rain slicker over his head.
“Don’t know, but the field has to be getting close to complete, doesn’t it? You guys were out there every day. How’s it going?”
“Slowly, but that’s just my opinion,” Clayton said.
Jack held the door open for us.
“Can dogs still smell a human scent through rain?” I asked as I peeled off my own rain slicker.
Everyone shrugged.
Clark paced the bull pen, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at us, then the wall clock, as we entered through the security door.
“We’re on time, boss,” I said. I noticed the anxiety written across his face.
He nodded and continued pacing. “Did everyone see the news? I swear this month just keeps getting worse.”
“Remember, one day at a time? You’ve always told us that, sir.” I poured each of us a cup of coffee. Clark needed to sit and take a breath. “All you have to do is delegate. We’ve got this, boss.”
Clark sucked in a deep gulp of air and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t let the mayor stress me out like he has. Okay”—Clark pointed at Jack and me—“you two are taking a day trip. First stop is Green River Falls. Find out everything you can there. Talk to the local PD and tell them you’re in town. We don’t want them to think we’re meddling in their case. Let them know Judge Gardino is a personal friend from our county and you’re just there to lend support. Talk to the judge, his kids, the bartender, the neighbors, you get the idea. The judge has been a good friend over the years. We need to help out if we can.”
“Understood. What else, boss?” Jack asked.
“You’re paying Darryl Sims a visit after that. I’m tired of the mess he and his son have created. Lie to him, give him a line of crap. I don’t care what you say, but make him think it’s in Max’s best interest to turn himself in. At this point, Max is a fugitive from justice. He could be armed and extremely dangerous. We’ll shoot to kill if we find him and deem it necessary. Make sure Darryl knows that.”
I poured coffee in my travel mug as Clark rattled off instructions. I knew we were in for a long day.
“Clayton and Billings, you’re going out to the farm with me. The handlers and dogs will be there soon. We need to wrap up this case. Find out from Dr. White if there’s anything we can do to expedite the discovery. Catalog samples, bag bones, act as a go-between, etcetera. Any questions?” Clark looked from one face to the next.
“No, boss, everything is perfectly clear,” I said.
“Good.” The lieutenant slugged back his coffee, and then with a crack, he slapped his hands together. “Let’s move, people.”
Jack and I headed to one cruiser and got in. Clayton, Billings, and the lieutenant climbed into another.
“Keep me updated on anything you get,” Clark said through his open passenger side window.
“Will do, boss.” I rolled up my window as Jack pulled out of the parking lot. We had a long drive ahead of us—nearly three hours. I pulled out my notepad.
“Whatcha doing?”
“Trying to think of a line of crap to hand Darryl when we see him. We didn’t really get a chance to brainstorm like I had hoped.”
“Let’s just tell him we have Max in custody. We’ll say we only have circumstantial evidence, but we’re looking to convict him of first-degree murder unless Darryl wants to cough up the number of women he buried in the field. We need names too.”
“I doubt if he’ll buy it,” I said. “He’ll just confess to all of them.”
“Not the recent ones. He can’t explain those away.”
I stared out the side window and watched the scenery turn from city streets and stoplights to country farmland as we left North Bend in the rearview mirror. Fields planted in corn and soybeans were beginning to show shades of green. The winter wheat was almost ready to harvest. In a half hour, the scenery would change again. Interstate 94 would take us most of the way.
Thoughts of the agony Judge Gardino must have been going through brought me back to the moment.
“I hope the judge is still in Green River Falls. Nobody at the station has his personal cell phone number. I’m not even sure where his vacation home is.”
Jack turned the radio off. “The police department will know all of that. They can put us in touch with him.”
“Where do you think Max went, Jack?”
“No idea. There haven’t been any sightings of him or his van, and the BOLO hasn’t had any hits. It’s like he’s disappeared.”
The sky cleared as Jack drove west. I checked the time. We had been on the road for two hours already.
“Let’s get some coffee at the next exit. I want to call Clayton too and see if the dogs hit on anything else in the woods.”
“Sure thing.”
“I forgot to tell you, Amber talked to our dad last night while I was on the phone with you. He’s going to come here for his knee surgery. I guess it’s serious enough that he scheduled it for next week already. He’s flying in on Sunday, and the surgery is Tuesday.”
“No kidding? That makes a lot of sense. It’s tough enough getting around on crutches, but without help? No, thanks.”
“Was that a subtle reminder aimed directly at me about the dog bite last summer?”
“Uh-huh, but apparently it wasn’t very subtle.” Jack grinned as he clicked his blinker and got into the far right lane. The exit was a quarter mile ahead, where we could fill up the cruiser, grab hot coffee, and stretch.
Jack turned into the truck stop and pulled up to pump nine. “Want to grab a bite too? Truck stop food is usually good. We can get a couple of sandwiches and take them with us.”
“Yeah, sure. I’m going to give Clayton a quick call.” I got out and walked over to a decorative bench under an awning near the entrance to the diner. I scrolled to Clayton’s name and stared at the busy oversized lot adjacent to the restaurant. Semis entered and exited, while others sat idling in a long row of parked trucks. The drivers were probably sleeping in the bunks or inside the diner, enjoying a hearty meal and strong coffee. I waited for Clayton to answer. “Hey, Chad, how’s it going with the canine units?”
“Hi, Jade. Luckily the sky has cleared up, and the dogs are busy with their noses to the ground. No hits yet, so that’s a good sign. The handlers sectioned off quadrants of the woods so the dogs aren’t overlapping each other. It would be great to catch a break on this one. I think Clark really needs it.”
“Yeah, I hear that. Okay, we just stopped to fill the gas tank and grab some coffee. Call us if anything shakes loose.”
“Roger that.”
I hung up right as Jack moved the cruiser to a parking spot.
“What did Clayton have to say?”
“So far the dogs haven’t alerted on anything.”
“That’s good news.” He cocked his head toward the door and pulled it open. “I’ll pay for the gas, then we can check out the menu.”
We were on the road again thirty minutes later, each of us with a greasy burger in hand and a cup of strong coffee to go. I glanced at the time on the cruiser’s dashboard.
“We should be there just before noon. Let’s head to the police department first, talk to them, and then see what the judge can tell us.”
Chapter 28
Max slapped at the mosquito on his neck as he stood on that precariously crumbling pier. He threw a line out and hoped to catch a few bluegills for dinner. With his hand on his forehead, he shielded his eyes every so often and peered across the lake. The sun’s rays bounced off the ripples, making it difficult to see without glare. Trout Lake was small and surro
unded by private property. Only seven cabins sat on the banks of that beautiful “No Motors” body of water. Anyone that might be fishing would likely be doing it off their own pier or in a rowboat. With most of the cabins being on the west side of the lake, the likelihood of Max being seen was slim, and that was exactly how he wanted it.
The float jiggled, and the line went taut. He waited, his finger gently touching the line. The bobber sank under the surface and disappeared. Max flicked the pole and hooked his dinner. He pulled back with just the right amount of pressure as he cranked the reel and pulled in the first fish of the day. Three more times before noon, he reeled in fish. Max watched them flop in that old bucket he’d found behind the cabin. They amused him as they flailed, their mouths gaping and gasping, their gills opening and closing. They suffocated and died slowly. It gave him an idea.
He carried the bucket with that day’s catch inside. Max watched his footing as he walked the pier back to solid ground and followed the deer path to the cabin. Every so often the bucket would jiggle, and a fish inside took its last breath of deadly air.
Max entered the cabin and approached Theresa. She sat on the couch with her arms outstretched. The rope tied around her wrists secured her to the doorknob on her right and the kitchen cabinet handle on the left. She had nowhere to go. The ball gag jammed in her mouth kept her quiet.
“Look what I caught for dinner. You get to eat something other than potato chips. Those fish gave me an idea I’ve never tried out. Are you game?”
She squirmed and thrashed her head back and forth. Max grabbed her legs and yanked her to the floor. Using his enormous size and weight, he easily pinned her down. He pressed her arms flat with his knees and gripped her face tightly in his left hand. With his right thumb and index finger, he pinched her nose closed.
Theresa bucked and thrashed even harder than before as she tried to get air. He let go. Her nostrils flared as she sucked in oxygen.
He laughed loudly. Max enjoyed this new game he’d discovered thanks to watching the fish die. “How was that?” He gave her a few seconds of air then did it again—four more times. He slapped her cheek after the last round of near-death suffocation. He could barely revive her. “Hey, wake up. You aren’t going out this easily.” He yanked the ball gag out of her mouth.
Theresa’s chest lurched as she gasped for air. She caught her breath and burst into tears. “Just kill me, you son of a bitch! You’re going to do it eventually, aren’t you?”
Max’s knees popped when he stood. “Yeah, just not yet. I’m having way too much fun. I like your company.” He shoved the ball gag back in her mouth and untied her hands, then retied them behind her back. He tied her ankles together, giving her a foot of rope so she could walk. “Get outside and do your business. I’m sick of cleaning up after you.” Max pushed her out the door and followed her into the woods. Mosquitos swarmed his face, and he swatted them while he waited. “Hurry the hell up.” A few minutes later and back in the cabin, he tied her to the bedposts. He unfastened the ball gag and poured water into her mouth, then put it back in place.
“I’ll be back soon—we have more games to play.” Max walked out and slammed the door behind him. With the padlock clasped and secure, he gave it a tug to make sure, then climbed into the van, backed it out of its hiding spot under tree cover, and drove away. He needed to check the post office box.
Chapter 29
Jack exited the interstate at the Green River Falls ramp and turned left onto Main Street. I pulled up the police department’s address on my phone then checked the time—11:45. I enlarged the map as Jack drove.
“That’s easy enough. Just go west on Main Street for a few blocks then turn left on Second Street. It’s right there.”
Within a few minutes, we were in front of a block of newer looking, nicely designed redbrick buildings. City Hall, the police department, and the library were among a group of connected buildings on one side of the street, and the fire department, wearing a matching facade, was located across from them.
Jack parked, then we crossed the lot and headed to the double glass doors. Inside, the marble floors glistened, and the walls wore a rich birch paneling. A long reception counter faced us, and two friendly looking middle-aged women sat behind it.
We approached them, and I spoke as we pulled out our badges. “Hello, ladies, we’re from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department. My name is Sergeant Jade Monroe, and this”—I touched Jack’s shoulder—“is my partner, Detective Jack Steele. We’d like to speak to the officer who’s handling the case about Judge Gardino’s wife.”
The blond woman wearing glasses spoke. “Oh, my word, the town feels so bad for that family. They’ve been coming here every summer for years now. Give me one moment, please.” She rose, opened a door at her back, and disappeared around it.
“What was her name?” I whispered to Jack.
“Don’t know. She didn’t say.”
The other woman behind the counter smiled. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but you are only five feet from me. Her name is Barb.”
“Thank you,” I said as I motioned for Jack to come with me. “Let’s wait in the guest area.”
“In case someone is listening?” He chuckled.
“No, because we might have something private to discuss.” We sat on a pair of matching upholstered chairs. I felt like napping and yawned. “Man, could I use some coffee.”
Jack looked around and pointed. There’s a coffee station right over there. Sit tight. I’ll grab a cup for each of us.”
“Thanks, Jack.”
Jack returned a minute later and took his seat. He handed me a coffee.
“Do you think the judge will be candid with us?” I asked. “I mean there had to be a reason why his wife was out alone that night.”
“Yeah, you’re right, but that might backfire—he may want to keep that side of his life private. Don’t forget, we all know the same people and we work in the same city. I’m sure he wouldn’t want a scandal.”
I perked up. “What if this isn’t an abduction at all? Maybe she ran off with a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, but you’re forgetting about the man that called the judge and said he was her killer.”
I waved that comment away with a swipe at the air. “That could have been to throw the judge off. She and a boyfriend could be in another state by now for all we know.”
Jack shrugged. “Let’s stick to the facts as we know them—which isn’t much yet.” He jerked his chin to the right. “It looks like the contact person is heading our way.”
I glanced over my shoulder and instantly felt deflated. The man approaching us wore an officer’s uniform and didn’t look old enough to shave. He reached out to shake our hands.
“Deputies.”
I cringed. “It’s Sergeant Monroe and Detective Steele. We’re from the Washburn County Sheriff’s Department.”
“Yeah, Barb told me that. What can I do for you?”
“Are you the person in charge of Judge Gardino’s case?”
“That’s correct, I’m Officer Duke—Martin Duke.”
“Is there a private place where we can talk, Officer Duke?” Jack asked.
He looked around. “Um—how about an interrogation room?”
I raised a questioning brow. “You don’t have a conference room or a guest lounge?”
“Oh, okay. I just thought the interrogation room would be different.”
“Yeah, I’m not all that excited about different. I kind of enjoy being comfortable.”
“Sure, follow me.”
I turned toward Jack and rolled my eyes as we followed the youngster.
“Come on in and have a seat. My lieutenant and a few officers are out doing interviews. They left me in charge. Our police force is small, and Lieutenant Connors is the boss for six officers. I’m curious as to why you’re here.”
I spoke up. “We have another place to be somewhat close by and wondered if we could help out in any way as long
as we were in the area. The judge is a personal acquaintance of ours, you know. We often sit in on his cases as material witnesses and so forth. He knows us well.”
“I see.”
Officer Duke stared at us while an awkward silence filled the air.
Jack took over. “Okay, what can you tell us, Martin? Where has this investigation led you so far, and who have you spoken with?”
“Oh. Well, obviously we talked to the judge and the bartender.”
“And?” I asked.
“And what?”
“And what did they tell you?” I was ready to strangle this boy, and I knew he was deliberately withholding information from us.
“The judge said he got a phone call from a man using his wife’s phone. The bartender said it was a busy night. The locals were all in, and more tourists were arriving every day. He had one helper and didn’t remember much. He said Mrs. Gardino talked to a lot of people, and she was kind of drunk. That’s all he remembered.”
“Does that bar have surveillance?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t store information—it tapes over itself daily.” He grinned. “Nothing exciting happens in our neck of the woods.”
I groaned. “Except when it does. Where is the judge’s vacation home?”
“A couple miles out of town going north. His place is a big log lodge on Cinnamon Lane. You can’t miss it.”
We got up and thanked him. I knew there wasn’t much more we’d get from Martin Duke. We were outsiders, and we’d have better luck talking directly to the judge. At least the coffee had perked me up. We walked back to the cruiser and headed north out of town.
The judge’s home was easy to find. Calling that monstrosity a vacation home was like Cornelius Vanderbilt II calling The Breakers, his seventy-room mansion in Newport, Rhode Island, his summer cottage. The home was ostentatious.
Jack parked the cruiser, and we got out. Several cars sat on the driveway, a good sign saying that the judge was likely home. We took the four steps up to the enormous veranda, and the view from that spot was beautiful. In another life, if I was ever rich, a place like this would fulfill all my dreams. Jack clanked the knocker on the massive eight-foot-tall door. We waited, but nobody answered. He clanked again, a bit harder, but there was still no response.
