No wonder the dispatching goddess looked frazzled. She’d been doing everyone’s job and then some.
“I can’t keep up with you,” Val said.
“Good to keep busy. And with Grace out there, I…” Oneida ducked her head and stared at the floor.
And that was the danger. Slow down, think too much, and it all came rushing back. The situation. The fear. The hopelessness.
“You’re right. It’s best we keep busy.” Val filled Oneida in on their surplus auction theory.
The dispatcher brightened. “So you want me to get a list of people who bought old ambulances from surplus sales in the past couple years?”
“There can’t be that many, I hope.”
“It’ll keep me busy.”
“And how about you, Oneida? Have you made arrangements?”
Oneida tilted her head like a dog trying in vain to understand human gibberish.
“Hess almost killed you last time, and this time he knows I care about you.”
“You care?”
Val hated to remind Oneida of the target on her back, but the alternative was worse. “You said you’d make arrangements.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“But I do.”
“On second thought, maybe you should. I’m staying with my sister. I might not survive her attempts to organize my life.”
“It runs in the family then?” Lund said.
“Funny man. Good thing I don’t care about your smartass hide. But you’d better be planning to take care of my girl. Two funerals in the department is far more than I can take already.” Oneida turned a tight smile on Val. “I’m making a fresh pot, Chief. Want a warmer upper?”
“I’ll have one,” Lund said.
“I wouldn’t dream of trying to organize your life like that, Chief Lund. I was asking Val.”
“Thanks, but I can get it myself.”
“Sure?”
“You have plenty to deal with.”
“It’s already dealt. This is me we’re talking about,” the dispatcher said, but despite the bravado, her voice didn’t carry its usual swagger, and her walk back to the dispatch patch held far less swish.
The next two hours dragged by, Val getting more tired and less hopeful with every passing minute. At least by sitting, she’d been able to rest her weak leg. She had to take what she could get.
Kasdorf kept his word, stopping in to the station, answering every question Val threw at him, paging through the endless photos until he found a white ambulance with a red-orange Z pattern on the side that matched what he’d seen, allowing for the possible variation in color.
A design that had been retired nine years ago.
Val briefed the media, enlisting them to broadcast photos of Hess, Carla, and Grace, as well as the description of the ambulance. Val and Lund sorted through promising calls that came in over the tip line, but each one that raised their hopes only dashed them again.
Val was on her fourth cup of coffee, and she wasn’t sure she could last another hour without resting her blurry eyes when Oneida bustled in and handed her a sheet of paper.
“Here’s the list.”
Val stared at the page, names blending with addresses.
“Oh, this one, too.”
Another half page.
“This many people bought used ambulances in the last couple of years?”
“Stimulus money.”
In an effort to get out of what the media called the Great Recession, many municipalities used federal government grants to replace vehicles that had seen better days. The result? A glut of junkers waiting to be sold and subsequently a huge list of buyer names.
The buzzer warned someone was at the security-locked front door. “You’re welcome,” the woman of all trades called on her way out of Val’s office.
“Thanks, Oneida.” Val stared at the pages in her hand. Two pieces of paper, and yet they felt so heavy she could barely hold them up. “I don’t have enough officers to follow up on all of these.”
“I can start right now.” Lund held out his hand. “Remember? I said you didn’t have to do this alone.”
Val gave him a pressed-lipped smile. She was thinking about sinking into a hug and letting him hold her up, when a call from Oneida interrupted.
“Chief? Mr. Kasdorf is back. Says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Oneida. Send him in.”
Lund waved the lists. “Why don’t I grab one of the cubicles out there and get started?”
“That would be great.”
Lund and Kasdorf passed in the doorway.
Only an hour had passed since Val had seen the survivalist, yet as stressed as he’d seemed answering her simple questions about the ambulance, he was twenty times that now. “You said you wanted me to answer questions.”
Val frowned. “And I appreciate it.”
“So much you confiscated my property?”
“Confiscated? We didn’t confiscate anything.”
“I never should have helped you.”
“Wait a minute.” Val held up her hands, palms out. “What are you talking about?”
“It’s my property. I have my rights. Did you even bother getting a warrant? Or does the damn Patriot Act mean you can just take whatever you want whenever you want it?”
“Listen, you called us out to your property. I know you only did because Grace asked, and I’m grateful that you did, but you know we didn’t need a warrant to search your barn.”
“And confiscate my property?”
They’d only searched the barn for evidence that might lead to Hess, and they hadn’t found a thing. “What property do you think we confiscated?”
“You don’t think I know you called me in here to talk about this ambulance so you could poke around?”
Val took a deep breath, held it, and blew it out slowly. Kasdorf was a full-blown conspiracy nut. But his wild theories—while paranoid—usually made some kind of sense. “Let me get this straight. Something is missing from your farm.”
He stared at her.
“What is missing from your farm?”
“I want a lawyer.”
“Something illegal? Weapons?”
Kasdorf narrowed his eyes. “I want a lawyer.”
“Wait.”
“You can’t talk to me. I asked for a lawyer.”
“I can talk to you. If I ask you questions, your answers won’t be admissible in court. But I don’t suspect you of anything.”
“Sure you don’t.”
Val forced herself to breathe. She could repeat that he wasn’t a suspect until summertime, but Kasdorf would never believe it. “We did not take anything from your property. You’re mistaken.”
“My mistake was talking to you. And it ain’t happening again.” Kasdorf turned and walked out of Val’s office.
For a moment, she considered going after him, but what would be the point? He wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t talk. He hadn’t wanted to trust her in the first place, and now he thought she’d betrayed him.
Not to mention that with her damn leg, she could never catch up.
Val picked up the phone, calling the sheriff’s department. Just as she suspected, there was no record of any confiscation at the Kasdorf farm. All the same, someone had taken something from Kasdorf’s farm. And if it wasn’t the Lake Loyal PD or the sheriff’s department…
Pressure clamped down on the back of Val’s neck.
There was another possibility. Another person who could have seen whatever it was that Kasdorf was hiding. Another person who might have taken advantage of Kasdorf’s trip into town to return and take what he wanted.
And the idea that Dixon Hess might now have possession of something from Kasdorf’s arsenal chilled Val to the bone.
Chapter
Sixteen
Val
Val had barely recovered from her vision of Hess with an arsenal larger than that of some nations when Oneida announced she had another visitor.
“
It’s Village President Haselow. He won’t tell me what it’s about. Should I buzz him in? Or do you need a minute?”
Leave it to Oneida. The dispatcher was more protective than a mama bear, and Val had no doubt she would keep Haselow out all day if Val asked. “Thanks, Oneida. Send him in.”
The village president was a nervous little man on the calmest of days. With Hess on the loose, the town under siege, and his son in the hospital, these days were far from calm.
“How is Brad?”
The man paced across Val’s office in small, jerky strides. “I made a mistake.”
“What happened? Is Brad okay?”
“He will be.”
Val let out a breath. “Thank God.”
He stopped at one of the visitor’s chairs and perched on the edge. Head down, he stared at his hands. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’m just going to say it.”
Val waited, but he didn’t speak. “Um, say what?”
“I made a mistake.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.”
“When you, uh, gave me your resignation…” He shoved up from his chair as if to start pacing, then sat back down.
“My resignation?”
“Yes. You resigned.”
Val sat very still. What he said was true. She’d offered her resignation several days earlier. “You refused to accept it. Not until Dixon Hess was in prison.”
“A mistake. If I’d accepted it right then and there, maybe my son wouldn’t be in the hospital clinging to life.”
“You said he was going to be okay.”
“He is.” He shook his head like a dog clearing water from his ears. “It’s a figure of speech.”
“You’re blaming me for Brad getting hurt?”
“No, no, no…”
“Then what are you saying?”
“You said you worried you weren’t up to the job. I, uh, I now realize you were right.”
Val felt cold, chilled as if still soaked through with winter rain. Before she’d given Haselow her resignation, she’d been at peace with her decision. Her eye, her arm, her leg… The MS exacerbation had left her with problems no small-town cop could afford. She hadn’t wanted to compromise the safety of Lake Loyal residents. She hadn’t wanted to keep her disease secret any longer.
But that was before Hess broke out of jail. Before he’d taken Grace. How could she walk away now?
“I’m sorry, but circumstances have changed. I’m going to have to withdraw my resignation.”
“Too late.”
“Excuse me?”
“I read it. Your letter.”
“Oh.” So now he knew about the multiple sclerosis, and Val supposed it wouldn’t be long before the whole town did. When Val had written the letter, spilling her secret had felt liberating. She’d no longer have to hide. She’d no longer feel as if she was lying.
Now she could only think about how losing her job would affect the search for Grace. As a cop, she had resources, even if they had been stretched to the breaking point. As a civilian, she’d be sitting on the sidelines. She’d be nothing.
“I’m not saying you wanted Brad to get hurt or your niece kidnapped.”
“You’re not? Because it kind of seems like you are.”
“No, no, I’m just… You aren’t in any condition to do the job.”
“I’m doing the job.”
“I Googled multiple sclerosis. There are symptoms.”
“Yes…”
“Even mental problems.”
Val stared at him. “You think I have mental problems?”
“Maybe it wasn’t your fault. Maybe you’re just not thinking straight. I don’t know. But I have to do what’s best for this village. I should have done it before.”
“I asked you to do it before. But now? Now Hess has my niece.”
“That’s… that’s unfortunate. But have you considered that someone else might be able to do a better job of getting her back?”
Val leaned on her desk. She’d thought about it. Of course she had. Every time she’d let Lund take the wheel of her car. Every time she reached for her gun with her right hand and couldn’t feel the grip. Every time the fatigue closed in so hard she wasn’t sure she could go on.
Maybe someone could do the job better, but that wasn’t the question.
No one cared more than she did. No one would push harder. No one would sacrifice everything to get Grace back.
Val would.
“I took this to the village board this morning. They agree I’m right.”
“So it’s a done deal.”
“You need to clean out your desk and turn in your badge, your gun, and your car.”
“Who is taking over?”
“Sergeant Olson.”
Val nodded. “At least you’ve done something right.”
“I thought he should have been Chief Schneider’s replacement all along.” Haselow puffed up a little, making Val want to punch him.
Instead she zipped up her coat and hobbled for the door.
“Your office, Miss Ryker. You need to clean it out.”
Val ignored him. The office could wait. Since they’d moved to the new station, the only personal items she brought along were the diplomas on the wall, an address book Grace had given her on a long-ago Christmas, a pewter Bucky Badger paperweight, and a framed photo of her niece as a baby in the arms of Val’s dead sister.
Pete could fit the items in one box.
Val needed to breathe. She needed to get out of here. Needed to get far away from Haselow before she did something they would both regret.
She threw open the office door and walked out in search of Lund.
“Chief!” Oneida flagged her down from the dispatch patch, waving her arms wildly. “Two calls just came in.”
“Calls? What calls?”
“A hit on one of Carla’s credit cards. North Freedom. Officer Jones is on her way.”
“What was the second?”
“We have a tip on the ambulance. A sighting.”
“Where?”
“Excuse me. This is no longer your job,” Haselow said, emerging from Val’s office behind her. “Oneida? Call Chief Olson.”
Oneida’s eyes flared wide. She raked her frazzled hair back from her face and focused a questioning look of panic on Val. “Um, Chief?”
Lund strode out of the break room.
Val didn’t glance his way, instead keeping her attention riveted to Oneida. “Where is the ambulance?”
“It’s none of your business,” Haselow snapped at Val. “Call Chief Olson, Oneida. Now. Tell him he’s got the job he wanted.”
“What the hell happened?”
Val held up a hand to Lund. She couldn’t deal with this right now. Not Haselow’s pronouncement. Not Lund’s question. “Oneida, please. Where is it?”
“In Merrimac. On the ferry. The operator heard about it on his scanner, recognized the description.”
Merrimac was a town of less than a thousand on the northern shore of Lake Wisconsin, a dam-created widening of the Wisconsin River a few miles away from Lake Loyal. In the winter, residents had to drive several miles to the nearest bridge spanning the river. In the summer, a quaint, tourist-attracting ferry carried cars across. When Val heard they were opening the ferry early this year, she thought the weather would be the biggest issue. How trivial a little snow seemed now. And worse yet, the town was too small and seasonal to support a police department of its own.
Val motioned to Lund and headed for the door, yelling over her shoulder to Oneida. “Call Columbia County and ask them to send a greeting party to the southern shore. And tell the operator to stall until the emergency response team is in place.”
“Will do. What about Pete?”
“Give him my congratulations.”
Lund
Lund pressed down on the accelerator, splitting his attention between the wet roads and Val’s phone conversation… or at least what part of it he could make out over the rain po
unding, the windshield wipers slapping, and the siren screaming.
“How many vehicles are on board?” Val nodded into the phone, then held up her left hand, fingers outstretched.
Five. On a ferry built to carry fifteen cars, only a third of capacity. Better than a full load, that was for damn sure.
“Columbia County?” She paused again. “Good. And Pete?”
Coming to a straight section of highway, Lund pressed down on the accelerator. He’d been on the phone with one of the auction ambulance buyers when Val had burst from her office, and he was still piecing together what had happened. When he got the opportunity, he’d catch up. Right now, he needed to focus on the road.
Reaching the other side of the river wasn’t a simple task. The ferry itself was the most direct route, leaving Lund and Val no option but to wind through the bluffs until they could circle around to the nearest bridge.
Lund prayed they wouldn’t be too late.
“Has the ferry operator seen Hess or Carla aboard?” Val said into her phone.
Another pause, then Val met Lund’s glance and shook her head.
“Has he gotten a look at the driver?”
Another pause, another shake.
“How about Olson? On his way?”
Seemingly satisfied, Val thanked Oneida and signed off.
Another two miles hummed under the tires before Lund broke the quiet. “Are you going to tell me what happened back there?”
“Haselow changed his mind and accepted my resignation.”
“I figured that out. He say why?”
“Other than the fact that his son is in the hospital?”
“How are you responsible for that?”
Val twisted to the side, facing him. “How am I not, Lund? All of this… If I hadn’t arrested Hess for a murder he didn’t commit…”
“Then he would have eventually killed Kelly anyway. Or I would have killed him. Or he would have found another reason to be angry and hurt people. Some people are going to find a reason to take their rage out on the world.”
Dead Too Soon: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 3) Page 10
