by Inger Wolf
"What about the lakes?" Angie asked.
Ellis barely shook his head. "We've looked around those still accessible. Some of them are frozen, and you know how many there are. Our wildlife troopers keep tabs on these areas, but—"
"We know the peninsula real well." A young officer with red cheeks, thin lips, and wild black hair nodded. "If she's alive, he's got to be holding her inside somewhere, and we believe we know every building. If she's dead…"
"Yeah," another officer said, "she could be under snow or ice, anywhere. There's no lack of mountains where he could dump her. And if it's somebody who knows the area, he can for sure come up with a place we'll never find her."
Trokic felt the mood in the room plummet. It was hard enough to find a body in Denmark, but here it seemed to him to be a lost cause. What would it mean, a killer knowing that? That he could easily get away with hiding a corpse?
"So, what now?" Smith said, looking worriedly at Sgt. Ellis.
Ellis crossed his arms and rocked slightly on his toes. "We're searching the outlying areas. Every place we didn't think was likely before. The roads closed for winter, for example here…and here."
Ellis systematically went through all the area south of Anchorage, including the long peninsula, explaining which places were particularly important, the police and park rangers they could work with, and who reported to whom.
"We're sending more units down to the peninsula," he continued. "But not everyone. We have to keep a minimum force north of Anchorage for the people there, and then there's still the possibility, and I don't even want to think about it, that the mitten was meant to send us on a wild goose chase."
Smith frowned. "It's a possibility, but let's not consider that for now. Let's keep things on a positive note. And no one is talking to the media, is that understood? You've all probably noticed that people are worked up right now, and it won't take much for a bunch of unsubstantiated rumors to start flying around. Any questions?"
Chapter Thirty-Nine
THEY STOOD at Smith's desk, in the middle of Homicide's spacious quarters. The room was well lit, and the other officers were at their desks, concentrating on their cases.
Smith clenched his teeth. "Goddamn media. Someone, probably from Marie's school, told a station that we found the mitten. In spite of us telling them explicitly not to share that information. So now, everyone is speculating. What a rotten fucking mess. The killer's going to know we're looking for him south of Anchorage."
"Yeah, they're vultures," Angie said. "They're just waiting for someone to speak out of turn. And you're right, this could force his hand to move her. He could stuff her in his car, if he still has her, and drive her to the other side of town, and sit there and laugh at us."
The three of them mulled that over for a moment. Smith sighed, ran his hand over his suit coat and sat down. "You look better now," he said to Angie. "I was worried there for a while. For you and for us, too. We can't afford to lose anybody."
She flashed a smile. "I'm fine."
"She's tough as nails," Trokic said, poking her lightly with an elbow.
Smith smiled warmly. "I've had the pleasure of serving with Angie for several years now. It looks like you two are getting along, I'm glad to see that. All right. I just had a call from the techs, the DNA we found at your place doesn't match what's underneath Mette Vad's fingernails."
Angie frowned and pressed her lips together. "It felt like he was our man, that he was after me. He called me Fly Woman. Isn't that strange?"
"It's probably just an addict, his head all screwed up," Smith said. "Maybe he heard your name on TV and flipped out. You really need to keep your eyes peeled. No matter who it is, he's way out there. Maybe he's obsessed with you somehow."
"I'll be careful," Angie said.
"Promise me that."
"I promise."
"Good. After the Griffin murders yesterday, we're snowed under, to say the least. I've assigned two officers to poke around Griffin's circle of friends, but they haven't come up with anything yet. The man was a total idiot, but we just don't have anything specific yet. So, I want you two to stick with Asger Vad."
Trokic fidgeted. Why had someone gone after Angie? Had she done something to set off someone nearby? It worried him because whoever it was might take another shot. He smoldered with anger; he couldn't leave her by herself before the guy was caught.
"We're on it, boss," Angie said. She looked as though she was still thinking about her attacker.
Smith frowned and tapped his pen on a pile of papers. "I read your reports, Angie, so let me sum up what we know. We've just gone over Marie Vad. We know the killer broke in both places, placed the two different dollhouses on the tables. No money was taken, either place. There's no obvious sexual motive, with the exception of the bite marks on Mette Vad and the rape. Which right now looks more like a punishment, or maybe some sort of revenge."
Angie touched her cheek, the wound. "And the DNA under her nails."
"Yes. Then there's Adam Connolly, our volcano researcher, you'll be talking to him again soon. He has a motive, he's an obvious suspect, so don't hold back on him. You talked to the students and the church people, none of them had anything to say. Did any of these people seem threatening or act suspiciously?"
They both shook their heads. Smith sighed again. "We've been working our butts off here, with not much to show for it. I'm glad we're escalating the search for Marie because right now I can't see how else we're going to catch him. Unless we already have him, the guy sitting and waiting for you."
Trokic was getting increasingly anxious to put Adam Connolly through the wringer. The investigation might be over within the next hour if the man confessed. They were about to leave when the blonde officer in a green shirt and black pants—Linda, Trokic remembered—walked over to them. She smiled smugly, bit into the apple in her hand, and swallowed.
"Something's come up."
"Something good, I hope," Smith said. He looked as though he couldn't take much more of the bad.
"Yep. Thereza Mendell, a.k.a. the dollhouse woman, mentioned that a carpenter whose last name began with H-A bought a dollhouse, just like the one at the crime scene. We just found a Ted Harrison. Carpenter."
"Finally!" Angie said. "Great news, maybe he can tell us what happened to it. Who knows, maybe he gave it to Adam Connolly. If he's not the killer himself."
Linda tossed back her long blonde hair. "It took us a while to find him, his company name is Ted Carpenter. We talked to a lot of people, but it turned out that someone here knew Ted's real name was Harrison."
"Good work," Smith said, brightening up momentarily. "It looks like we have two bona fide suspects here today. Maybe I can take a small vacation before long."
Linda smiled. "Yeah. Two of the guys are bringing him in. Sounds like he's not saying much. And, apparently, his car is covered with mud. Like he's been out in the sticks. He said it's from a job during one of those downpours we had about a month ago. Which might be true. Might also be he has his own little hideaway."
"This is really good news," Angie said.
Linda threw the apple in the wastebasket to the left of the table. "Yeah, but that's not all," she said triumphantly. "We just went through Asger's papers to see if there's a connection to Harrison, and guess what? We found a receipt. Harrison worked on their house. I'm thinking there's a good chance we have an honest-to-God suspect here."
"Two of them," Angie said.
Trokic's phone rang. He checked the display. Andersen. It had to be close to midnight back in Denmark.
"Yes?"
"Why am I not getting any reports from you?" the captain said immediately. "I have to read about the case on the net, and I assume it's the same kind of flimsy stories we have back here."
"I know," Trokic said, in English.
"You don't need to speak English to me, Mr. Smartass. Just keep me informed instead of playing around with your new pals over there. This isn't a vacation you're on."
"Later? I need to get to bed before long."
"Do you want to hear about it or not?" Trokic stuck his phone back in his pocket.
Chapter Forty
SLAWOMIR DEN SHOOK HIS THERMOS. Empty. He went to find the coffee machine. He'd been sitting on his perch, staring out the window for an hour, while listening to the Stones, from back when rock was rock. He'd sat there thinking glowing thoughts about his retirement in a month. Something he'd been looking forward to for the past ten years while his red hair had turned grayer every day. For the past hour, he'd fantasized about long walks with his dog, traveling to beautiful places with green golf courses, and fine red wine. Places far from volcanoes or other natural catastrophes. France might be a good place to start. He couldn't remember hearing about any such disasters there.
Den was, in fact, sick of volcanoes. Sick of his cell phone waking him up every night after every tiny little suspicious seismic tremor under one of the many slumbering monsters, sick of hysterical airport employees calling in after every change in alert level, totally sick of colleagues who couldn't talk about anything other than volcanoes. That would include both Asger Vad and Adam Connolly.
Now that the former was dead, the latter was the leading candidate to take over, and to be honest, it would make his day—make his every day from here on—to relinquish his post to someone so enthusiastic. Someone who thought it was the world's best and most fantastic job, who had enough independence and pride to not burden Den with information. He never wanted to take a call again. No calls was exactly his idea of the perfect retirement.
It was hysterical that the police had suspected him, however slightly, of killing Asger. There was nothing more he would rather do than keep someone alive who wanted his job.
He'd almost reached the coffee machine when he heard faint, uneasy mumbling from the control room. There was nothing unusual about that, but lately, he had become quite a bit more sensitive, oversensitive even, to these sounds. He strolled over to see what was going on. Two workers were watching one of the earthquake monitors. Den's mouth went dry: Redoubt. The most lethal stratovolcano he had seen in person. That several of his colleagues referred to it as a favorite was completely absurd.
He kept his voice neutral and authoritative. "What's happening?"
Noel turned. The young, long-haired new man at the observatory couldn't hide his enthusiasm. "There've been a lot of quakes today." He blinked after having stared too long at the monitor. "Several just a minute ago. I think our baby is about to wake up."
Ben, a short Asian with eight years of experience there, nodded. "We're going to have to put her on yellow."
Her? Den's toes curled at hearing the volcano referred to in the feminine. The devil was hardly a female. "But are we sure about this?" he asked, even though he knew they were.
"Together with the earthquakes from several days ago, I believe we now have evidence that something's on the way," Ben said.
Den stifled a serious outbreak of swearing. If Redoubt was aiming to paralyze the state one more time before anyone could take over for him, he might have to hang around for weeks. Months even. While that stupid mountain threw up all over them. If only it had been Little Sitkin, or one of the other distant volcanoes that, at worst, would bury some of the morons in Dutch Harbor or some other small town on a distant island, it would have been easier for him to sneak away. Redoubt, though, was a different story.
Worse yet, the police had Adam Connolly in their sights; they suspected him of murdering Asger, and now he was going to be interrogated at the station again. Den had reached the point where he almost couldn't care less if Adam had killed someone or several someones, as long as he came into the observatory and did his job competently. Under no circumstances must the observatory's board discover their leading candidate for his job was a suspect in this case. The thought horrified him—what if Adam was out of the running? Then what?
Ben roused him from his thoughts. "We've seen this before, boss. The same pattern as last time. And we also just received two independent observations. One of them was a private plane that flew over this morning. The pilot called and said there was a strong smell of sulfur in the air, and that she was smoking."
"It couldn't have just been a cloud?"
"No. I've known the pilot a long time; he knows what he's talking about. We have to send up a plane to have a look."
Several observatory people were behind them now, following along.
"But we see that all the time," Den protested.
He was about to tick off an unnecessarily long list of sulfur odors and reports of rumblings and thunder dating back to the time of James Cook, when Ben said, "But the lodge up at Bear Lake called. They say it's rumbling just as bad as before the last eruption. We all know how this can go. I have to insist on putting her on yellow, and on sending out a team to see how bad it looks."
Den sighed heavily. There was no way around it. He needed Adam back at work, so he would be all lined up if this Redoubt business developed any further. If that meant giving Adam an alibi for the night of the murder, so be it. Christ, the man hadn't done anything anyway.
He reached for his phone to send a message.
Chapter Forty-One
ADAM CONNOLLY SEEMED ANTSY. He patted his pocket constantly, apparently because his phone was vibrating. His blue jogging suit had been replaced by jeans and a nice blue shirt. He glanced up at the camera in the interview room, made a strange face, then turned back to Angie. It was hard to get a read on him; his ice-blue eyes and muscular body were attractive, but she didn't like him. Though he hadn't given her so much as one single scornful look, she had the feeling he didn't like her, either. His voice had a patronizing edge to it. He seemed to think he was superior to her, though whether it was because of her gender or her job, she couldn't know. Could he be the one who attacked her? Even though Smith was convinced it had to be someone else, she wasn't so sure. He had the right height. Could she smell it if she got close enough? She couldn't smell anything right then.
"I need to get back to my work. It's important." He patted his black, tightly curled hair. "I don't understand what I'm doing here. You talked to me out at the lodge; I even came in later and gave a statement. What more do you want?"
"You're here because we discovered you have a motive for the murder of Asger Vad," Angie said. "We'd like to get to know you better. And to hear what you know about David Griffin."
Adam snickered and shook his head very slightly. "And what motive is that?"
"That you want the same job he did. Director of the Anchorage Volcano Observatory. That's a prestigious job. And, besides, we're not satisfied with your alibi on the night of the murders. You still had time to drive back to Anchorage."
He drummed his fingers on the table, then he smiled. "Ah, yes, that little detail…I realized I completely forgot something. I drove into the observatory that night to print out some data. After that beer with Hank. In fact, I was there for several hours. Slawomir Den, the man whose job I want, I don't deny it, he says he saw me in the office between midnight and two. He was there, but he didn't want to disturb me."
"What?" Angie said. "A detail? That you just now happen to remember? Do you really expect me to believe that?"
"I must've been confused about which night it was," Connolly mumbled. "My memory isn't always that great."
"No, it sure as hell isn't," Angie mumbled.
"But you can call him. He said if I had any more problems with you people, you could talk to him."
Connolly looked a bit surprised at this news himself. Angie frowned and spoke to the camera, to those watching in the control room. "Can you check on that? Den's phone number is in my calendar on the desk."
She turned back to Connolly. "If this is right, all of a sudden your alibi is looking pretty good.
Even though I've never heard of someone forgetting what they did on a night where a good friend was killed. But since you're here anyway, we might as well have a little chat."
"Whatever makes you happy."
"Oh, it does. Do you have family in Anchorage?"
"Only my brother Hank, and you've met him."
"You mean your convenient half alibi. No girlfriend?"
He stared at her. "That's a bizarre question. Are you interested?"
She coughed.
“Okay. No, I don't have one.”
“And you're not just forgetting you have one, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You might have one, is what I mean. Seeing that your memory isn't all that good.”
He snorted. "I don't have time these days," he said. "As you know, I'm writing a scientific article, and with all the time I spend at the observatory and the university, it's nearly impossible for me to have a love life."
"What do you do in the little free time you have? If you can remember."
He shrugged; he appeared to be more relaxed now. "I do some mountain climbing. In fact, I climbed Denali last year during a two-week vacation. I'm almost always outdoors when I'm not working, and usually, it has something to do with mountains."
She smiled. "You've come to the right place, all these mountains and volcanoes."
He nodded. "Volcanoes are the most incredible things on this planet. I'd like to travel the world and see them all. In fact, that's my mission in life."
"So, you know a lot of isolated spots in the state?"
"Yes, I do, yes. I've been places where no other human has gone before. Where maybe no human will ever go again. Incredible feeling."
He narrowed his clear blue eyes. "I get it, you're saying I might know places where the body of an eleven-year-old girl could be hidden."
