by Inger Wolf
"No, I'm certain. I took her seriously. She'd never said anything like that before, and she wasn't the type who went around letting off steam. And when I hugged her, she started trembling. And she cried. I asked her if she was certain, and she said yes, one hundred percent; otherwise, she wouldn't have spoken about it. She said she hoped she would be forgiven for breaking the family up, but Asger was a difficult man. Traumatized, is how she put it. Loving someone isn't always easy."
Ingrid paused and drank her coffee. Angie turned to Trokic. His eyes penetrated her, and she felt it in the pit of her stomach. She looked away and pulled herself together. "Had she told Asger about it?"
The woman shook her head. "No, and in fact, she seemed to be ashamed of talking behind his back. She said she was going to speak with him that day."
Trokic cleared his throat. "And this was the day before the murders, when she was going to tell him?"
"Yes."
Angie thought for a moment. What had happened between them? Then she remembered what the teachers and students at the university had said. Asger had suddenly seemed distracted, from one minute to the next. And he hadn't shown up for a meeting with a student. Had Mette called him, said they had to talk? Maybe he had an inkling of what was coming. He must have taken it seriously, given the no-show.
She tried to imagine it. Asger came home. Mette told him. Maybe before she picked up the kids? Maybe that's why she wanted to talk to him so early that day. So the kids wouldn't hear it? And then what happened? Did Asger get mad? Mette had most likely picked up Marie, had they bought her a new pair of boots then? Because Mette wanted to leave? And did this have anything to do with the murders, that the family might have been breaking up? It would be quite a coincidence that they were murdered that night.
Trokic seemed to be thinking this over, too. He ran a hand through his hair and gazed out the window; the sun had disappeared behind the tall buildings. Soon it would be dark.
"So, you have no idea what the divorce was about? I mean, why they would be getting a divorce?" Angie said.
"No. But I thought you should know. They weren't a happy family."
Chapter Forty-Four
IT WAS ALMOST DARK, and Marie trembled with fright. Soon the animals in the wilderness would be coming out. The man hadn't found her. The wind had erased her tracks. Later that same morning, she'd heard the pickup drive by again. And she'd heard him calling her. Angrily. That was quite a while ago, and she wondered if he was still looking for her. He wouldn't be able to spot her from the road now. But what if he started searching in the forest? Up to then, she'd been too scared to walk farther on because he might see her. But now she was more afraid of the animals. And the cold.
Because it was going to get cold. She knew that. Her upper body was okay. The coat was almost new, and her mom had hated paying so much for it, but the salesperson at the store said it was definitely the right one. A polar coat with fur around the hood. Her new boots were also warm, but she was worried about her legs, she wasn't wearing warm pants. Only jeans, and even though her coat covered her bottom and some of her thighs, it still wasn't enough.
A person could freeze to death. Last winter they had talked in school about a man who fell down his back steps and broke his hip. He couldn't get up again and had frozen to death right there. The thought of him had kept her awake at night; how would it be lying there, knowing you're going to die? And how fast had it happened?
The big root she sat under was covered with snow, and it sheltered her from the wind. But it was still cold. The sun had been out all day, but now it was gone, and the temperature had fallen fast. Her teeth chattered and her hands were freezing as she scraped some snow from around the root, creating a small hollow. It took a long time, and she felt weak from all the work and her gnawing hunger.
It was dark by the time she finished. She started when she heard an animal scream. She didn't know what it was, didn't know the sounds of all the animals. It might be a fox. She'd heard that they sounded strange.
She turned in the tiny pocket, a type of primitive igloo, and tried to seal it with snow, but it kept falling from one of the smaller roots. At last, she gave up and huddled in a corner, hoping the animals wouldn't catch her scent.
A NOISE WOKE HER UP. A horn far away. She had dreamt about the cabin and the blood in the closet, which wasn't blood after all, and the images stayed with her. They seemed real. If only Zenna was there with her thick, warm fur. The dog would keep her warm, and even protect her from the wolves. She was thirsty, and she grabbed a handful of snow. She shivered when it melted in her mouth. It tasted faintly of forest. Of trees and earth. Or maybe she was just imagining it. Some of the snow on the root fell, and suddenly she was looking up at the thin branches outside. Up at the sky. At the world.
That's when she saw the star. Big and clear. Her mom had shown it to her often. The North Star. They had stood out on the porch on clear nights, and her mom had pointed and explained, showed her the difference between planets and stars. So that was north. The opposite direction of the cabin. Anchorage was also to the north. That's the direction she would go when it was light enough.
Chapter Forty-Five
IT WAS dark when they parked in front of the Ramada. There was something between them now, an aura that neither one of them wanted to talk about. Angie felt it all through her body. They sat a long time without speaking. She should go back to the station. Write the reports. But she didn't want to. Couldn't tear herself away.
"I'm not going to let you stay by yourself in that trailer," Trokic finally said. "We can't know if that guy will come back. It's not safe."
"Smith has assigned extra patrols in the area," she said. "Somebody will show up in minutes, our response times in town are short anyway. And our dispatch center is on the ball."
"I don't care," he said. "I don't like it. Come in with me. At least for a while. The Slippery Salmon has good nachos, you said so yourself. I'll buy some, and a bottle of wine too."
She hesitated. Wasn't sure about herself in his presence. And the reports. On the other hand, she could get up early, Smith would have them when he came in. "Okay."
He smiled. "Good. Wait for me in the lobby, I'll be back in ten minutes."
"SO, tell me why you live in a trailer," he said. They were sitting up, each on one side of the big bed with two trays of nachos and two paper cups of wine between them.
Wheels turned in her head. Could she tell him? Really, though, what difference did it make? Soon he would be flying back to his own faraway country, and she would probably never see him again. What did she have to lose? The thought made her stomach churn. But like Lohan had said, she didn't need to be ashamed. And yet. She drank half the wine in her cup. "The thing is, my parents were killed in this car accident."
"Yes, you mentioned that." He munched on a nacho.
"Normally, the natives here are accused of drinking too much, but my mother never did. My father, though. Sometimes he could be horrible, but she never left him, even though I told her she should. The rest of the family didn't know about it. Anyway, they went out to eat one evening, and on the way home he lost control of the car and hit a tree sort of indirectly. They were thrown from the car. The pathologist said they died instantly. No one could say who had been driving the car. They took blood tests on both of them; my father had been drinking. It was assumed that my mother was driving, but I know better. He never let her drive if he was in the car."
"That's terrible," he mumbled.
"Yeah. It's depressing, really hard to lose your parents so abruptly. You know that. But it wasn't just losing them that broke me, it was what happened after. My father's family blamed my mother. It got ugly. My cousins called in shifts, taunting me, telling me it was all my mother's fault. It just got to be too much. And that's when I started gambling, as a distraction. Just a little to begin with. Just for fun."
"Gambling?"
"Yeah, on the net."
"I thought you said that gambling is i
llegal in Alaska?"
"It is." Her laugh held a tinge of sarcasm. "About the only damn thing legal is bingo and some really strange traditional betting, like tossing moose shit down off a helicopter."
He laughed at that.
"I won't bore you with the rules," she said. "But everything else is illegal. And that includes internet gambling. They try to stop it, of course, but there are always ways to get around it."
He pulled up several nachos stuck together with cheese, then he looked at her closely, a searching look. "And it got out of hand?" He ate the nachos.
"Way out of hand."
"Which meant, what?"
"I lost all my savings, twenty-three thousand dollars, within a few months. You have no idea how fast it can disappear. And I couldn't pay my rent. At the end, I was a nervous wreck. Everyone thought it was because of my parents' death, and I was sent to a psychologist. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone."
He pushed the nachos over to her. His hand touched hers, it felt electric to her.
"But that's all over now?" he said.
"Yes. Jane Lohan, the forensic pathologist, she stopped by one evening. I was gambling, and I shut down the screen before letting her in. She sat down in the living room, and I went out to get a few beers, and then…it's almost funny now, but the game had continued, and I hadn't turned the speakers off. So, suddenly, there's this automatic voice, nearly screaming. "Congratulations, you've won $200 in our Mega Monster Mix!"
Trokic couldn't help but smile. "Whoops."
"Anyway, I walked back in and Jane is just sitting there staring at me. And I know that she knows what I'm doing. Maybe I could have come up with some excuse, but by then I couldn't handle it any longer, all that money I lost. And I broke down, completely. But she helped. She took me in to Smith and made me confess."
"So, he knows?"
She nodded. "I was given a serious warning, and I gave my laptop to our IT guys, and they installed some sort of nasty thing that reports me if I go onto a gambling site. And I also had to talk to a man who specializes in gambling addiction. I was even told to keep away from playing bingo. Bingo!"
"How about now? Do you still have the urge to gamble?"
She shook her head and scratched her scalp. He poured more wine into her cup. "No. I think it was just a reaction. It scares me now, and I'm happy for the legislation that protects me from myself. But it ended up costing me. And that explains the trailer. But I'll be back on my feet at some point, and I'll get an apartment down by the water."
They sat for a while, ate the rest of the nachos.
"I better get going," she said. She stood up.
He looked straight at her with those blue eyes that turned her stomach into knots. Frantic now, she picked her coat up off the floor and strode to the door. "I'll have the desk call a taxi for me. And I'll pick the car up tomorrow."
"But –"
"I can take care of myself," she said, her voice firm now. "I'm not going to walk around afraid all the time. I know how to defend myself, and now I'm prepared. You don't have to worry."
She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. "I'll be back early tomorrow and pick you up. It's going to be a long day. Be ready about eight thirty, and I'll bring along some coffee—"
He slowly pushed the door shut. Looked at her. "I don't want you to go; I want you to stay."
Her heart was pounding crazily. "It's just that…" She lowered her eyes, unable to gather her thoughts. Her cheeks reddened. She felt him studying her face.
"That what?"
She swallowed hard; what should she say? That she didn't know what he was talking about? She, the world's worst bluffer. Her thoughts flew around.
Then he kissed her on the mouth, a quick kiss, but there was nothing feeble about it. He straightened up a bit and watched her. Time stood still a moment, all her thoughts were gone. Then she kissed him back. Couldn't stop herself, and her body went limp in his arms. He pushed her against the wall and kissed her neck, nipped, bit her lightly, while his fingers twined with hers. His other hand grabbed her braid and pulled off the rubber band. He started unbraiding it. Soon his hand reached the end of her hair, and she felt it sliding over her face. She smelled a hint of his aftershave, heard herself breathing heavily, then everything else disappeared.
His hand stopped at the top of her blouse, and he straightened up and looked at her and smiled. A bit teasingly or, perhaps, hesitantly. "Do you still want to go home?"
She shook her head. She didn't at all want to go home.
Chapter Forty-Six
MARK SMITH LEANED BACK in his comfortable office chair, swept his thick salt-and-pepper hair back, and shook his head at her. "Why the hell haven't you answered your phone, Angie? After what happened out in your trailer park, and then no answer from you, obviously I was worried."
"It's not my trailer park," she snapped. "The battery ran out last night, sorry."
"Phones can be charged in the morning, believe it or not." His eyes narrowed, he looked back and forth between Angie and Trokic, who were standing in front of his desk. The pause was awkward, but then he smiled slyly. "Aha. I see. You weren't home. Mmm-hmm."
Another pause. Angie felt Trokic's presence all through her body. They had woken up early and made love again, and now it felt as if she had been brutally dragged back to reality.
"All right, then," Smith said, more good-naturedly, "the situation is, we just got the results on this carpenter guy's DNA; it matches what was found on Mette Vad."
He looked at them, triumph in his eyes.
Angie's face lit up with a smile. "Really? That's fantastic!"
"What do we do now?" Trokic said. "What if he's still holding Marie?"
"Since you didn't answer your phone, Angie, I sent someone out to arrest him. Not only that, they took the opportunity to speak with his neighbor. It turns out that Harrison hasn't been home much lately. Add that to his weak alibi, and I think we have our man."
ANGIE AND HARRISON sat in the interview room while Trokic and Smith observed them through the mirror. She was wearing an earpiece, in case one of them had something to say during the interview. Ted Harrison looked grubby; he'd obviously been in bed when they came for him. They had let him get dressed, but when he stepped outside the house, he flipped out, the officers said. He'd kicked and swung at one officer. They threw him down in the snow and cuffed him, then let him lay there five minutes to cool off.
Now he was in the interview room, rubbing his wrists underneath the handcuffs, fidgeting in the chair, staring hatefully at her. She noticed the edge of a tattoo just above his shirt and a vein pumping furiously.
The pleasant man from the day before had disappeared, and something ugly had risen to the surface. He had a changed persona. A kushtaka, she thought. An evil spirit from her people's mythology. An animal that could take the form of an otter or a human and lure people to their deaths by appearing to be a loved one. It would cry like a baby to coax women out into a river to drown. Kushtaka preferred children. She had been deathly afraid of kushtaka when she was a child. Now she understood the purpose, to stop kids from going too close to the water, but the mere thought of the gruesome spirits still made her uneasy.
She pulled herself together. "Do you know why you're in here again?"
"No, no one's said a damn thing. Your people just barge in and accuse me of killing the Vad family. I wasn't even up yet. What the hell is going on? This is ridiculous."
"It's because the DNA we found under Mette Vad's fingernails matches yours."
She tried to hide her contempt and the nausea stirring in her stomach at the thought of what he had done. Worst of all, she feared for Marie.
"That's bullshit. That DNA isn't mine; it's a mistake, okay? You must have got it mixed up with someone else's."
"That doesn't happen," Angie said, impatient now. She laid her pen on the table. "We are absolutely sure. We have strict procedures that prevent such things. And since you don't have any alibis, you have a p
roblem. Right now, we're searching your home."
He tilted his head and seemed to smile. Said nothing.
"Maybe you think this is a game?" Angie said angrily. "A goddamn game?"
Smith's voice appeared in her earpiece. "Don't show your emotions; you won't get anywhere that way."
"You won't find anything," Harrison said.
Angie took a deep breath to get a grip on herself. "We'll see. A few officers have spoken with your neighbors. It seems you haven't been home a lot lately. Taking everything into consideration, things aren't looking good for you, Ted. Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"
"Like what?"
"How you killed them. The whole family. Was it a robbery that went all wrong? And how did David Griffin find out about you? You might as well tell me everything; it'll be a lot easier for us all."
He leaned back in his chair and laughed. "I'm not telling you shit."
"What have you done with Marie?"
"Fuck Marie."
Angie took another deep breath and considered her words carefully. "If she's still alive, tell us. She's just a kid, Ted. Eleven years old."
He stared at the ceiling, apparently mulling things over.
"Don't let him take too long," Smith said in her ear. "He's making up his story."
She nodded at the camera; she understood. "Let's take it from the beginning." She pushed her chair back and looked down at her notes. "How did you handle the dog? We already know you drugged it, but even that isn't easy. It's a big dog. But maybe you got to know the dog when you worked for the family? So it was easy to give it a treat."
He broke her off. "I'll tell you where that DNA came from. I was having an affair with Mette Vad. The past few months. Ever since I worked for them. She was in love with me. She was going to leave her screwball husband for me."
For a moment, he looked uncomfortable. "So that's why. We were in bed the day she was killed, and she…scratched my back. She must've got some of my skin that way. So, you can see, I'm not the one who killed her. Fact is, it's been pretty rough on me."
