When Val had decided to make this gesture, she’d intended to say something. But now, no words came. Instead, she placed her hand over her heart. Those gathering did the same. Olson, Ginny Jones, and other officers in uniform raised their hands in salute.
Val pulled in a long breath of damp air. “We’ll take it from here, Chris,” she whispered. “We’ll stop him.”
A promise to her brother in blue. A promise to Grace.
A promise she would keep, no matter what it cost.
Chapter
Thirteen
Carla
When Carla found Dixon climbing behind the wheel of the fire rescue truck, she couldn’t believe it. First he’d yelled at her for giving that girl what she deserved. Now he was going. Not even bothering to tell her where he was going.
“Do I really ask so much?”
He let out a sigh. “What is it, Carla?”
“You haven’t asked how my arm is.”
He checked his watch. “I don’t have time for this.”
He never had time. Not for her. “You didn’t kill the boy in the barn. I heard it on the scanner. An ambulance took him to the hospital.”
“If I’d meant to kill him, he’d be dead.”
“You’re sure you didn’t miss on purpose? So your precious Grace wouldn’t be upset?”
Dixon’s lips tensed at the corners. “Don’t make me wish I’d killed you.”
Carla’s cheeks felt hot. He was joking. Or testing her. He had to be. “You need me.”
“I don’t need anybody, Carla. Certainly not you.”
“Who do you need? Grace? You want to fuck her, don’t you? After all, she looks just like her aunt.”
She didn’t see his fist coming.
Her nose exploded with pain. She stumbled back, blood pouring over her lips, flooding her mouth. Her back hit a pillar, and she slid down to the floor, covering her face with her hands.
“If I want to fuck Grace Ryker, I’ll do it. If I want to fuck Valerie, I’ll do that, too.”
It made Carla sick.
Val Ryker had ruined his life. She’d spread lies about him. She’d put him in prison for something he didn’t do, and when he’d been released, she’d stuck a knife in his back.
And yet she was who he thought about every day, every night.
The sound of the truck’s engine starting made her look up. The last thing she wanted was for Dixon to leave. He could be taken by the police, shot, who knew what, and she would be sitting here in this god-awful place with that god-awful girl, and everything Carla had sacrificed for would be gone.
“I’m sorry, Dixon. Please, I didn’t mean it.”
He shifted into reverse.
“Please. I’m sorry. I never should have thought such a thing.” Carla grabbed the side-view mirror, as if she could stop him. Of course, she couldn’t. She couldn’t make Dixon do anything. He would do what he wanted. It was one of the reasons she’d loved him all along. “Please, let me help.”
He shifted back into Park and lowered the window. “You’ll shut the fuck up and do what I say?”
“Yes. I love you.”
“Then clean up the mess Grace made and be ready to leave when I get back. Can you handle that?”
“Yes. Anything. I’ll be ready.”
And then Dixon was gone, leaving Carla to wonder what, precisely, she needed to be ready for.
Val
Val’s cell phone rang before the ambulance and Harlan’s antique hearse had turned out of the driveway and disappeared down the country road. She fished it from her pocket and looked at the screen.
“Oneida? Tell me you have good news.”
“I have good news.”
“Really?” Val hadn’t been expecting actual good news. She was no longer sure it existed.
“And I have bad news.”
Val sighed. “Good news first.”
“I located Grace’s cell phone.”
“Where is it?”
“You mean where was it.”
“The signal showed up then disappeared?”
“About that fast. Like Hess put in the battery, then took it out.”
Hess. Playing games. Trying to deliver some message to Val, no doubt. Taunting her, trying to inflict additional pain. She braced herself. “Where was it?”
“Devil’s Lake State Park.”
Val frowned. She could feel Olson watching her, waiting for her to fill him in. “Can Baraboo or the county check it out?”
“Already let them know.”
“Around the park, too. There are a lot of places to hide.”
“You’re talking the old ammunition plant.”
Unfortunately, Val was. Formerly known as Badger Ordnance Works, the old Army ammunition plant spanned about ten thousand acres just south of the state park. It had produced all sorts of munitions from World War II to the war in Vietnam. The Army had recently started tearing the buildings and barracks down, but there were plenty left. The park and ammo plant combined would be close to twenty thousand acres. If Hess was hiding there, it would be hard to find him.
Val shook her head, her last vestiges of hope evaporating. “How many state parks are there in the county, Oneida? Three?”
“Devil’s Lake, Natural Bridge, Rocky Arbor, Mirror Lake, and Tower Hill, which is actually just across the county line.”
“That’s five, just in the immediate area. And how many other natural areas?”
“Ferry Bluff, Pewit’s Nest, The Dells, Parfrey’s Glenn, Ableman’s Gorge… A lot. More than I can name.”
And if Oneida couldn’t name them all, no one could. “This time of year, no one is visiting any of those areas. That’s a lot of acreage to cover.”
“We have the hit on the phone. Add some dogs in the search party, and you never know. It’s more than we had before.”
“You’re right,” Val said. “At least it’s something. Thanks, Oneida.”
Val ended the call. She appreciated the optimism, but she’d spent too many years studying her files on Hess to believe he would give himself away with such a simple mistake. Not until he was ready. Not until he wanted Val to find him.
But this time, he wasn’t alone.
Val turned to her sergeant. “Hess has spent the past few years in jail or prison. We have a record of all his visitors, and we’ve read all his mail. Yet somehow he has a place to hide, an ambulance he’s driving around, and who knows what else. How?”
“Carla.”
“We know they communicated when he was in jail, so she is the one who set up this plan. We need to focus on Carla.”
“Not enough time. Not enough staff,” Olson agreed. “And the county is struggling almost as much as we are.”
Val nodded. And now the county sheriff and Baraboo PD were spinning their wheels at Devil’s Lake. She had to wonder if that wasn’t Hess’s plan all along.
They needed more time and more staff. Since she couldn’t come up with the first option, maybe she should try for the second.
“Pete? Can you handle things here?” Val spotted Lund heading her way and gave him a wave.
“Going to the station?” Olson asked.
“Yes. And there’s something I need to do on the way. We’re going to need to catch up fast if we’re going to figure out Hess’s next move.”
Kevin
Kevin Burke cringed when he heard the voice on the other end of the line. He stepped away from the old RV he’d been working on and glanced around the steel pole building, even though he knew damn well he was alone. Never hurt to be sure. Not with something like this. “How did you get this number?”
“Trying to hide, Burke?”
Kevin didn’t answer. He hadn’t talked to Dixon Hess for years, not since Kevin had been fired as a farmhand at the Meinholz place and finally had the guts to do what he really wanted. He’d shipped out to Iraq just a few months later. Hess was a bad memory. Or more lately, a story on the news channels. And if Kevin was honest, something to talk ab
out when he was hanging out at the Doghouse. His brush with a serial killer.
“What do you want?”
“I heard your marriage didn’t work out. That’s why you’re back in Lake Loyal, isn’t it?”
“Fuck off.”
“That’s not a nice way to talk to an old friend.”
“Friend?”
“You owe me, Burke.”
“For what? Getting me fired from a crappy, part-time job?”
“For keeping your brother safe in prison.”
“You don’t know anything about Paul.”
“Maybe not. But I know people who know him. And now that you’re back in Lake Loyal, I could use your expertise.”
Expertise. Hess could only be referring to one thing. The only thing Kevin was ever good at. “You think I’m insane?”
“I think you are fond of your brother.”
Kevin felt sick.
“I can reach Paul anytime I want, you know.”
“Leave him alone.” Kevin didn’t owe Hess. He owed Paul. Everything. Kevin couldn’t let anything happen to his brother. Not when his parole date was so close. Not when his family needed him. Not when it was Kevin’s fault Paul was inside in the first place.
“I saw his little girl today. Although she’s not so little, is she? Looks a lot like her mother. Quite the nice piece of—”
“What do you want, Hess?”
“For starters? That Winnebago you’re working on. Does it run?”
The comment hadn’t come from Kevin’s phone but from behind him. And when he spun around, he came face-to-face with Dixon Hess.
Chapter
Fourteen
Val
If Val had felt more exhausted in her life than she did now, she didn’t remember it. But as she filled Lund in on Grace’s phone and her conversation with Pete, she could feel determination sinking back into her bones.
Lund negotiated his way along twisting, slushy roads. His face was tense. A muscle twitched along his jaw. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”
“Sorry? What would you have done? Sniff out the phone signal with your superhero senses?”
He blew a self-mocking laugh through his nose. “I just don’t like the thought of you having to deal with everything alone.”
“The alone thing again, huh?”
“You have people willing to help. You should let them.”
Val knew he was talking about himself, of course. If it was up to Lund, he would take on the responsibilities of breathing for her. “Well, my idea should make you happy then. I want to bring in some help. Outside reinforcement.”
“Oh?” He raised a brow, as if he didn’t really believe it. “So where to?”
“The Doghouse.”
“A tavern? Normally I’d say that kind of reinforcement was a great idea, but…”
“Trust me. You need to meet someone. Well, actually you might be better off not meeting him, but you’re going to meet him all the same.”
“Whoever this is, he can help?”
“I hope so.” What Val had in mind was pretty simple. Surely even Harry McGlade could manage, provided he was still in Lake Loyal. And if he could help find a lead to where Grace might be—any lead—the few minutes it would take to recruit him would be worth it.
Two turns later, they were bouncing and jolting into the pitted gravel parking lot of the Doghouse Tavern. The owner, an ex-stripper, had converted the old farmhouse to a bar a few years back, and ever since, it had been the home of farmers, Harley enthusiasts, and the local sheepshead club. Only two cars sat in the lot, one belonging to the owner, Nikki Sinclair, and the other a black Corvette with Illinois plates.
Lund turned into the parking lot and parked next to the ‘Vette. “Nice car.”
“It’s Harry’s. At least he’s still here. He must be staying in one of the cabins Nikki rents out.”
“And how do you know Harry? He’s not another mysterious doctor from your past, is he?”
“Hardly. He’s an ex-cop turned private eye.”
“I see.”
“I used to work with him back in Chicago. He’s sort of a friend of Jack’s. They’re business partners.”
“Can’t wait to meet him.”
“Nah, if you knew what you were getting into, you could probably wait. Let’s make this as quick as possible.”
Val braced herself as she and Lund entered the Doghouse to the identical scene she’d witnessed several days ago—Harry perched on the very same stool at the bar, Nikki washing glasses and laughing at whatever bizarre stuff was making it out of his mouth. Val took the stool on one side, Lund on the other.
“Harry McGlade, this is David Lund. Lund, McGlade.”
Harry offered his non-prosthetic hand. “You a drinking man, Lund?”
Lund shook it. “Not at the moment.”
“Then I’ll have yours.” He signaled Nikki for two.
“I was surprised to see your car still here,” Val said.
“Decided to stay for a bit, do some ice fishing.”
For some reason, Val couldn’t imagine Harry ice fishing. More likely, he’d gotten cold before he could even finish drilling a hole with his hand auger and had spent the rest of the time sitting on this same stool, drinking.
“Catch anything?” Lund asked.
“Sure. In fact, I can’t get the fish smell out of my hands.” He sniffed his finger. “No, wait. That’s Nikki.”
Behind the bar, Nikki shook her head and plunked down two beers in front of McGlade.
Val checked Lund’s reaction. McGlade had a habit of testing people, seeing what got to them, pushing buttons. After all that had happened this morning, she wondered if Lund was up to it.
Lund didn’t react at all.
Maybe he was more up to dealing with Harry McGlade than she was.
“So, you guys an item?” McGlade asked.
Val took a deep breath. “Listen, Harry, I’ve got something to as—”
“Lemme guess,” McGlade interrupted, pointing at Lund. “You think you are. And you”—he pointed at Val—”are being your usual, stubborn, insecure, crazy-ass self.”
“I think I like him,” Lund said. He gave Val a wink.
“Then drink with me, compadre.” Harry held out a beer. “We’ll toast to women. If they ever figured out how much better they are than us, we’d be in big trouble.”
Lund took the beer, clinked, but didn’t drink. “We have something to—”
“Bad luck not to drink after a toast, Lund. Alcohol not your bag? Lemme guess. Meth? Coke? Prescription painkillers? Teenage girls?”
Lund set down the beer, his mood going dark.
Val felt the same. Enough for the pleasantries. “Harry, we need your help. It’s Grace.”
“So it is teenage girls,” McGlade said, his voice going up an octave. “Your boyfriend is shagging your niece? I don’t approve. Not in the least. But if you have any pictures on your phone…”
“No, McGlade. It’s Hess.”
“That guy again? Remind me again why you didn’t kill him the four thousand times you had a chance.”
Harry hadn’t meant to be cruel, but Val felt his words like a kick to the chest. “He has Grace, McGlade.”
Harry stared at her for a moment. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“I need your help to find her.”
This seemed to surprise him a lot less than it did Lund, Nikki, or even Val herself.
“Of course. I’ve helped out the Chicago PD many times since I left The Job. I’m sure I could teach the Wisconsin cops a few things.”
“You won’t be helping the police, officially. We don’t have the budget. I want to hire you to help me.”
“I don’t have a PI license in Wisconsin.”
“We can work around that.”
“But I can come up with a good forgery.”
“Is that a yes?”
“You aren’t going to arrest me for the license, are you? Because that would be entrapment.”
>
“I’m not going to arrest you, McGlade. I just need you to do me a favor. And you can add it to my bill.”
“A favor. Okay. But I get to name my terms. Along with the money.”
Val shot him a frown. She had an investigation to run. She didn’t want to waste any more time. “Fine. Within reason. The details don’t matter. Finding my niece does. Will you help?”
“I’m in,” Nikki said. “I’m so sorry, Val. Whatever you need, just holler.”
“Thanks, Nikki. I appreciate it.” Val wasn’t sure what the stripper-turned-bar-owner could do to help, but she’d take whatever assistance she could get. “Harry? How about you?”
Nikki directed a pointed stare Harry’s way, and when he didn’t seem to notice, she punched him in the arm.
“What?”
“You’re going to help find Grace.”
“I am?” He glanced to Val, as if suddenly remembering the topic at hand. “Yes, I am. What do you need me to do?”
Lund
Lund had to admit that after the strain of the past few hours, the sheer ridiculousness of Harry McGlade would have been a welcome relief if the situation had been different. As it was, Lund wished they could just get on with the search for Grace, and he knew the pressure was even more urgent for Val. That she had the patience to deal with McGlade right now was a testament to how desperate she was for more information on Carla.
Val gave McGlade a quick rundown, and they exchanged cell phone numbers.
“So, this Carla Tiedemann you want me to look into, is she easy?”
Val let out a pained sigh. “She killed her husband, McGlade.”
“A black widow, huh? So she’ll give it up, but I should make a quick getaway. Thanks for the tip.”
“Listen, she grew up in the Wisconsin Dells area. Maybe you could start there.”
“Wisconsin Dells… They have ducks there, right?”
“Ducks?” Lund was beginning to think following McGlade’s thoughts should be an Olympic event.
“Not the quacking kind, although they probably have those, too. I’m talking about those boats with wheels that you can drive into the water. That’s on my F list.”
Dead Too Soon: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 3) Page 8
