Dead Too Soon: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 3)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  “I don’t know. We’d better find some insurance.”

  Val applied the epoxy, sealing the pedal trigger to the base, then she and the others disappeared.

  Lund waited.

  And waited.

  And waited some more.

  He stared at the radiator, the scratches, the smears, and thought of Grace in this room. Afraid. Cold. And trying desperately to leave her aunt a message. Something that would help.

  Finally Olson and Vaughan shuffled back into the room, grunting under the weight of a large cast iron clown. Paint a little chipped and discolored with age, he held one arm above his head, his pale hand rolled in a fist as if gripping strings of balloons that were no longer there.

  “Hope you don’t suffer from coulrophobia,” Vaughan said.

  Lund sized up the statue. “The clown is going to weigh down the boot?”

  “And haunt your dreams,” Olson muttered. He wasn’t smiling.

  Lund had expected a quip like that from Vaughan, but not the stoic giant. “A few issues there, Olson?”

  “Can’t help it. As a little boy, I got run over by a Shriner’s car during the Loyal Days parade. Haven’t trusted clowns since. Horrible creatures.”

  “Okay, it’s been over an hour.” Val’s voice trembled a little. Her eyes met Lund’s. “Are we ready?”

  It would only be a split second between the moment Lund slid his hands off the boot and the clown restored the weight. But if there was any wiggle room at all in that glue, a split second would be enough to set off the mine. To kill everyone in the room. “Val, I’m not doing this unless you clear out. Safe distance, remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “And if I don’t make it—”

  “You’ll make it,” Olson said in his usual monotone. “Because I am not going to be killed by the failures of a goddamn clown.”

  As soon as he’d made sure Val cleared the outside door, Vaughan turned a big smile Lund’s way. “Right. On three, okay?”

  A hum rose in Lund’s ears. “Is this on-three three or on-two three?”

  “What?” Olson said.

  “On-three three,” Vaughan clarified. “I think you’ve proven yourself to be pretty steady, for a firefighter.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t say I never gave you a compliment. Okay… One.”

  If there was a time for his life to flash before his eyes, Lund figured this was it. But the slideshow never started. The only image he could conjure was Val’s face.

  Olson and Vaughan tilted the clown over the mattress, the elbow of his lifted arm hovering less than a centimeter above Val’s boot.

  “Two,” Vaughan said. They lowered the clown even more.

  Lund tensed, ready to move. His mouth was dry, his fingers shaky, but he could do this. He had to do this. He needed to see Val again.

  “Three.”

  Lund eeked his hands out just as the clown settled its weight down onto the boot and the pedal switch beneath.

  He held his breath, waiting for the boom.

  It never came.

  Val

  As soon as Lund stepped foot outside the train depot, Val stepped into the circle of his arms.

  “That is not a safe distance,” he said, the last word muffled by her lips.

  She’d tried. Tried to be steady in carrying out her crazy plan. Tried to be brave while risking the lives of three good men. Tried to fall back to the perimeter. But as the seconds passed without an explosion upending her world, she’d inched back to the door, as if her feet had a will of their own.

  And now she kissed him with everything she had.

  It was amazing, the adrenaline that came with a close call. She was tired and hopeless and faced with losing everything, and yet right at that second, she felt as if she had boundless energy. As if she could take Lund right here on the street. As if she could go one-on-one with Hess and walk out alive.

  Hess.

  She gave Lund a last squeeze, then pulled to arm’s length and searched his face.

  “Don’t do that again,” she said.

  “Kiss you?”

  “Sacrifice yourself for me.”

  He shot her that sexy, crooked grin. “I thought you dug the hero type.”

  “I’m serious, Lund. Promise me.”

  The grin faded. “Come on, Val. If you need me, I’m going to be there for you. How hard is that to accept?”

  “I don’t want you to be there for me. I need to know you’ll be there for Grace.”

  “Of course I’ll be there for Grace. Always.”

  “And if you have to make a choice?”

  “Why would I have to make a choice?”

  “If you have to make a choice, if you can only save me or Grace, I need you to choose Grace.”

  Lund’s face hardened. A muscle along his jaw flexed. “I should have known that’s where you were heading. It’s not going to happen like that, Val. We’ll make sure it doesn’t happen.”

  “And if it does?”

  “Grace does a pretty good job of holding her own, Val.” His grin was back, broad and beaming.

  Val frowned. “I need you to promise.”

  “Waiting around for that epoxy to dry, I had plenty of time to study those scratches and blood on the radiator. It’s a name, Val.”

  “A name? What name?”

  “Burke. Know it?”

  Val felt the hair rise at the nape of her neck. “Yeah. And it was Grace who left it, Lund. I’m sure of it.”

  “How?”

  “Because her friend Heidi’s last name is Burke.”

  Chapter

  Thirty

  Kevin

  Burke had never understood the game of golf. Walking around, hitting tiny balls with clubs into holes. A rich man’s pastime.

  He looked out over the fifth hole of the Lake Wisconsin Country Club. Snow, rain, and still-frozen earth had transformed sand traps into ponds and greens into marshland. No one would be playing golf. Not for a while.

  Beyond the golf course, Burke eyed the swollen Wisconsin River, currents spinning and tumbling as they spilled through the Prairie du Sac dam. Two boats sat on the water, fishing lines trolling for walleye even in the cold rain.

  Kevin didn’t understand fishing, either.

  Hell, he didn’t really understand hobbies at all.

  Kevin had fallen into a lot of jobs in his life. Farmhand. Mechanic. Short order cook at the Lake Loyal Supper Club. The only thing he’d ever really wanted to do was serve his country. But one stupid, drunken mistake, and Uncle Sam didn’t want him anymore. The army kicked him out with a black mark on his name. They’d taken his purpose, his life.

  Too bad they couldn’t have taken the skills they’d taught him, too.

  He’d been good at his job in the service. He’d liked the adrenaline rush. But here at home, those skills had only brought trouble. To him. To his brother. And if Kevin didn’t do what he was told, to his brother’s family.

  The gate was a simple aluminum pipe barrier secured with a padlock. One snap of his bolt cutter, and it swung wide. He climbed back in the fire rescue truck. As he shifted back into gear, the damn old thing sputtered and stalled. Cursing, he restarted it and drove through, following the service road that separated country club and river.

  From the time Kevin could first remember, his old man had tried to beat certain lessons into him—responsibility, honor, protecting his own—but none of it took.

  Kevin had fucked up his marriage.

  He’d fucked up his career.

  He’d fucked over his baby brother.

  What he was doing now wasn’t responsible. It wasn’t honorable. A lot of property was going to be washed away in the next few hours. A lot of people were going to die.

  But Kevin had learned one lesson.

  His brother and sister-in-law and niece were in danger, and Kevin was finally protecting his own.

  God forgive him.

  Val

  Val caught up to
Olson as he was climbing in his SUV and told him about the name she was now positive had been left by Grace. “You remember a possession of explosives case a little while back? Guy got drunk, was picked up on a DUI? Name of Heimbach?”

  “Not really.”

  Val continued. “I saw a report about the case this morning. The guy hauling the explosives was a cellmate of Hess. Deceased. His accomplice was Paul Burke.”

  “So you think Grace is trying to point us in the direction of Paul Burke?”

  “Seems so. But I’m pretty sure Paul Burke is still in prison.”

  “Ask the DA’s office. Mylinski would know. And let me know if you find anything, would you?”

  “Goes without saying, Pete.” A second later Val was on the phone with a DA’s investigator named Al Mylinski.

  “Heimbach, Heimbach,” Mylinski was saying, as if his tongue was mulling over the word. “Yeah, rings a bell. Explosives.”

  “His accomplice was named Burke.”

  He let out a groan. “Sure. I remember. The Burke brothers. But we only had a case against one. The wrong one, you ask me. Not that he wasn’t guilty, too.”

  “So only one is serving time?”

  “Heimbach used Burke’s truck to haul some serious shit, C-4, detonators, and the like, presumably with the intent to sell. But as it turns out, neither Paul Burke or Heimbach knew anything about explosives.”

  “But the other brother does.”

  “That’s right. Kevin. Former military. What they call an Explosive Ordnance Disposal Specialist.”

  There it was, the connection Val had been searching for. “Do we have an address?”

  “Last I knew he was living with his brother’s wife and daughter.”

  Val thanked Mylinski and ended the call. Her mind was humming. It wasn’t until a vehicle pulled up next to her that she realized it was Lund.

  “We have a handle on the name Burke?”

  “Yeah. Paul Burke has a brother.”

  After a quick stop at Farm and Fleet to pick up a new pair of boots for Val, they reached Lake Loyal in what had to be record time, even for Lund. Rain still falling, Val peered up at the steps leading to the split-level’s red front door and gathered her strength. The weakness in her leg hadn’t gotten better, but at least it hadn’t gotten worse. She could still walk, even though she was slow and each step tingled as if the limb had fallen asleep. On the other hand, her fingers resembled dead rubber, and the numbness was creeping up her arm.

  “Can you make it?” Lund asked, as if reading her mind.

  “Yeah.” She positioned her right hand on the crutch and snuggled it into her armpit. Then, grasping the railing with her left hand, she hoisted herself onto the step.

  Left. Right. Change her grip. Left. Right…

  Val had never met Kevin Burke or his brother, Paul. But Grace had been friends with Heidi since seventh grade. Val and Lund reached the door, and Lund rang the bell.

  Footsteps sounded from inside. The sheers covering the window tweaked to the side, and Heidi peered out. One eye blackened, her face looked worse than yesterday, bruises setting in after the bus accident. She opened the door.

  “Chief Ryker. Have you found Grace?”

  “Not yet, Heidi. Is your uncle home?”

  Heidi’s gaze darted to Lund, then to the street out front. “Uncle Kevin? No.”

  “When is the last time you saw him?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Yesterday? He’s not in trouble or anything—”

  “Why would you think he’s in trouble?”

  “He said he was borrowing our motor home and going fishing. You know, before the ice all melts on Lake Loyal. But he doesn’t even like fishing.”

  “Where do you think he really went?” Lund asked.

  “I don’t know. But there was a man here yesterday.”

  “A man?” Val felt cold. She gripped the doorframe trying to steady her weak leg. “Did you see this man?”

  Heidi shook her head. “I just heard their voices back in the garage. I couldn’t tell what they were saying. But his truck was parked on the street.”

  “A truck? What kind of truck?”

  Heidi looked directly at Lund. “A fire truck. You know, one of the little ones like you usually drive.”

  Chapter

  Thirty-One

  Val

  Heidi let them take a look around her uncle’s bedroom, but Val and Lund found nothing that tied Kevin Burke to Hess. Val had gotten a description of the motor home from Heidi, reported it all to Olson for follow-up, and she and Lund had swung by Rossum Park on the way to the Doghouse. But while they saw plenty of shanties dotting the still-frozen lake, there was no sign of Burke or a Winnebago or a fire rescue truck.

  “Krause bought a fire rescue truck,” Lund said. “It was listed in his purchase history from the surplus action.”

  “So we’ve accounted for the ambulance, the fire rescue truck, and one squad. That means he has another squad out there somewhere.” She had to admit, his plan was smart. Emergency vehicles tended to blend in nearly everywhere. Even law enforcement wouldn’t think to look twice at a passing police car. Not when they were searching for an infamous fugitive.

  “And one more Claymore,” Lund added. “Not to mention nearly two tons of ANFO.”

  The energy surge Val had experienced after Lund had escaped the train depot had waned. She felt sick, tired, and hopeless. It seemed as if Hess was always a step or two—or five—ahead. As if Val would never catch up.

  Or worse, when she finally did, it would only mean the ending Hess planned had begun.

  Lund turned into the gravel parking lot of the Doghouse, the truck bumping and splashing through deep puddles. A handful of cars gathered in the muck, but Jack’s wasn’t among them. Lund parked next to an honest-to-goodness Wisconsin duck.

  “You were serious. Harry really did buy one.”

  “There is no exaggerating McGlade.” Lund switched off the ignition and twisted in his seat to fully face her. The raindrops in his hair glistened like diamonds in the overcast afternoon light. “You hanging in?”

  Val stared down at her hands. Stress, lack of sleep, maybe even the MS… Her thoughts felt scattered. Unfocused. “Just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

  “Understandable. I doubt a dose of Harry McGlade is going to help.”

  “I was hoping Jack would be here.”

  “Maybe he’s heard from her.” Lund covered her hands with his. “Burke just gives us another angle to work, another way to find Hess and figure out what he’s up to. We’ll find him. We’ll stop him. Trust me, we’ll figure out a way.”

  Inside, Nikki was behind the bar, chatting, flirting, frying burgers, and pouring drinks. As always, a cigarette hung from the corner of her mouth, despite health regulations and the statewide smoking ban.

  At least Val no longer had to worry about giving her another ticket.

  They crossed to the room usually reserved for sheepshead, poker, and Lions Club lunches. Now their makeshift office. Lund reached for the doorknob.

  “You looking for the new girl?” Nikki shouted over the noise.

  “New girl?” Val said. “You mean Jack? I didn’t see her car.”

  “Someone else. Was looking for Lund.”

  Lund’s hand dropped from the doorknob. A muscle twitched along his jaw. “Uh, I called someone. I thought we needed help.”

  “Help? Who?”

  Lund opened his mouth, then closed it. “I wasn’t sure she would come. I thought she would call back first, not just show—”

  Val opened the door and limped her way inside.

  McGlade sat at the card table, poring over an open laptop and some YouTube video starring a black kid with glasses singing in an unusually low voice. Standing behind him, a woman watched the slowly scrolling scenery of the vintage Hamm’s beer sign, her back to them.

  Chandler.

  The last time she’d been in Lake Loyal, she’d been a blonde, her hair cropped in a short pix
ie. Now it swung just above her shoulders, glossy and brunette. Still, Val would recognize her anywhere, even from behind.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” Val said.

  Chandler turned around. Her sharp gaze skimmed over Val and came to a rest on Lund. Several seconds passed before she returned her focus to the land of sky-blue waters. “Dead. Right. Me and Mark Twain.”

  For a short time, when Val and Lund weren’t sure they could ever really be together, Lund had gotten involved with this woman. A big mistake. One that had almost cost Lund his life. One that had cost others’ lives.

  “Why are you here?”

  “I told you,” Lund answered Val. “I asked her to come. For Grace.”

  Voices filtered in from the main bar, the clack of balls on the pool table, the chimes and beeps of the pinball machine. Val could feel Harry staring at her, and her cheeks flared hot. This whole scene had to be a pretty good spectacle. God knew it took a lot to shut McGlade up.

  His silence didn’t last long.

  “If you two are planning to fight over Lump, would you consider mud wrestling?”

  “Shut up, McGlade,” Chandler said.

  “You’re right,” Harry said. “That was out of line. You should spank my ass right now like the bad boy I am.”

  Val narrowed her eyes at Chandler. “You’re a murderer. I should call the police.”

  Chandler frowned. “I thought you were the police.”

  “You’re as bad as Hess. Maybe worse.”

  “Now you’re hurting my feelings.” The words were flat, and so was her expression. But Val could sense a challenge there. And she was feeling desperate and reckless and foolish enough to maybe rise to it.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Lund looked from Val to Chandler. “Sorry. Just give us a second. It’s been a tough few days.”

  Chandler shrugged a shoulder.

  “Did you just apologize for me?” Val couldn’t believe this. Lund knew she was worried about having to kill Hess, that if it came down to killing him in cold blood, she would consider it murder. And yet he had enlisted a woman who killed for a living? “When you told me to trust you, that we would find a way, this is what you meant?”