Remembering Dresden (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 2)

by Dan Walsh

  “And,” Jack added, “that his son—now the Senator—had to have known what his father had been up to all along.”

  42

  Boyd glanced at his watch. This wasn’t exactly how he wanted to spend his lunch break. But Jack Turner had said he really needed to meet. Apparently, his girlfriend Rachel had finished translating the journal yesterday. They’d met last night and had some big things to go over with him. Jack wanted Rachel there in case Boyd and Hank had any questions. She could only come during her lunch hour.

  He’d better round up Hank, make sure he could join them. He glanced at his watch again. They’d be here any minute. Getting out of his chair, he headed down the hallway, stopped at Hank’s cubicle. Thankfully, he was at his desk, though Boyd had to wait for him to finish a phone call. “Say Hank, Jack Turner is on his way here with his girlfriend, Rachel.”

  “He’s coming back again?”

  “Looks like it. Remember he said she was translating that journal? I told him to give us a call when she finished, if it turned up anything relevant.”

  “Guess it did then.”

  “Guess so. Can you keep an eye out for them? Should be here any minute.”

  “Sure thing, Joe. I’ll bring them back as soon as they get here.”

  Boyd headed back to his office. He’d already stopped what he’d been doing. Maybe he could wolf down a few bites of that turkey and swiss sandwich Kate had packed for him before they arrived.

  Jack held Rachel’s hand as they walked across the parking lot toward the police station. He glanced down to see she was holding both the journal and the manila folder containing a marked up copy of her translation.

  “What do you think Sergeant Boyd will do once he hears all this?” she said.

  Jack sighed. “I hope he’ll take it seriously. Hope he doesn’t think we’re wasting his time.”

  “You said the last time you guys met he went out of his way to make you feel this wasn’t going to go the way things went last year, when he blew you off completely.”

  “I know, he did say that. But then Hank came in and, next thing you know, I’m heading toward the front door feeling like a kid who got spanked.” They reached the glass door. He opened it for her then followed behind her.

  She squeezed his hand and whispered, “I don’t think that’ll happen this time. With this—” she held up the notebook and folder “—we’re no longer dealing with speculation.”

  They reached the receptionist sitting behind the counter. “Hi, I’m Jack Turner. This is Rachel. Sergeant Boyd is expecting us.”

  The receptionist looked up. “I remember you. Just a minute.” She was already wearing a headset. She pushed a button on her phone. “Hey Hank, that couple you asked me about is here. Okay, I’ll tell them.” She looked back up at them. “Hank will be right here to get you.”

  Jack tensed up a little. He liked Hank. He reminded himself that Hank was a nice guy and a good cop.

  “There he is,” Rachel said. She waved.

  Jack saw him walking down the hall toward them. He waved back to her and smiled. “Well, here goes.”

  She squeezed his hand, then whispered. “You’ll do fine.”

  “Hi guys,” Hank said, “good to see you. Joe’s expecting you. Follow me.” As they walked down the hall, he said, “Is that the journal you translated?”

  “It is,” Rachel said.

  “This should be interesting.”

  “I think you’ll think so after we go over it with you.”

  He led them past an area of half walls and cubicles straight to Boyd’s office. When they walked in, Boyd was finishing up a sandwich. He motioned with his hand for all of them to take a seat. Rachel set the two items on his desk.

  When Boyd finished chewing, he said, “That the journal?”

  Rachel said, “It is.”

  “Can I see it?” She handed it to him. He opened it, looked at the first few pages. “Definitely written in German. I thought the pages would be more yellow.”

  Jack spoke up. “It’s old, but it was only written in the 90s, or sometime after that.”

  “That’s right, I thought it was written during World War II.” He flipped through a few more pages. Handed it back to Jack. “So Rachel, you speak fluent German? How did that happen?”

  “Well, for my degree I had to pick a language. It’s kind of a long story, but the short version is…my father is a retired Air Force general.”

  “I think I remembered that, somehow,” Boyd said.

  “We were stationed in Germany a few years. My dad was the commander of a base there. That’s actually where I first met Jack. He was my father’s driver, off and on. Of course, he barely remembered me.”

  “There’s a reason,” Jack added.

  “I was only fourteen at the time. Anyway, I picked up some German while we lived there, though we mostly stayed on base. When I got to college, it seemed like the right language to pick, since I already had a head start.”

  “That makes sense,” Boyd said. “Well, there are a lot of pages in that journal. Can you just summarize the parts that matter? The parts you want to show us?” Joe looked at Hank. “Hank, you close that door?”

  Hank got up.

  Rachel picked up the journal. She pinched the first three-fourths of it between her fingers. “This whole section here is pretty much the killer taking notes as he is stalking, I guess you could say, the B-17 pilots.”

  “Is that what he calls them?” Hank said. “Does he name them?”

  “No. I should say up front, this man is very clever. He uses codenames and code phrases for all the names and places. But he uses the same codenames for the same people, and the same phrases for the places. You don’t need to be an expert code breaker to put it together. Really, just having the scrapbook with the obituaries, I could easily make the connections myself.”

  “I suppose if this came down to a situation that wound up in court,” Boyd said, “the DA could come up with an expert who could officially make the connections. Go on.”

  “He really could,” Jack said. “I spent a little time going over what Rachel did, with the scrapbook right beside it. I spent just enough time to connect up the things he’d written with the first two obituaries. It was very easy. To me, it’s so clear, he could just as well have skipped all this codename mumbo-jumbo and talked plainly.”

  Boyd looked at Rachel. “Go on.”

  “Things really get interesting in this last section,” she said. She read and explained all about the things old man Wagner had said to his son, about how he couldn’t kill everyone who needed to be punished by himself, how he needed his son’s help and why. She explained his health issues and how they directly correlate with what happened to old man Wagner before he died. For now, she left out the part about the name change. She and Jack had talked about this before they’d arrived, thinking they should go over that separately at the end.

  Hank interjected at that point. “But is there any evidence his son knew what his father was doing? Couldn’t he just say, my father was a nutcase? I had no idea he was doing these things?”

  “I don’t think so,” Jack said. He looked at Rachel, “Do you mind?” She shook her head no. He picked up a few of the sheets she had translated and found the part he wanted to read. “Look at what he says here: I know this will be hard for you. You are enjoying your life as an American, your new life at the University. But you must not forget your duty. You must not forget who you really are, and why we came to this country in the first place.”

  Jack skipped over the line where he calls out his son’s real name. “You are my son. We are here to execute justice on behalf of the uncle for which you’ve been named, for your aunt, and for the grandmother you never had the chance to meet. And on behalf of all of the other innocents who were mercilessly killed by these criminals long before you were born.” He looked at Joe, then at Hank. “It’s crystal clear by what he says here, his son knew what his father’s purpose was for even coming
to the US in the first place. The father isn’t informing him. He’s reminding him…of his duty.”

  “And remember the timeline?” Rachel added. “Old man Wagner killed these pilots between 1993 and 1998. Senator Wagner was in college during that time. Right here, at Culpepper. I looked it up. Everything connects. I didn’t find anything that suggests the Senator actually helped his father kill anyone. But I think it defies logic and common sense to think he had no idea what his father was up to.”

  “Do you know if any more B-17 pilots were killed after the eighth one?” Hank asked. He was looking at Rachel. “Seems pretty obvious he was planning to kill several more.”

  Jack jumped in. “I don’t think so. I was able to come up with a list of pilots in that same bomb group who had flown on the Dresden mission. I googled about fifteen of them, so far. None of them had died in any kind of accidental fire-related death.” Jack restrained a smile. It just dawned on him, what Hank had just said. He was starting to buy into this.

  “We’re thinking,” Rachel said, “since this part of the journal was written near the end, he must have had his big stroke before killing anyone else. And, for some reason, his son decided not to fulfill his father’s legacy. But like I said, he had to have known what was going on.”

  For a few moments, no one said anything. Then Boyd said, “I think there’s really something here. I think you guys have stumbled onto something pretty significant. What do you think, Hank?”

  “Yeah, I have to agree. This doesn’t look very good for Senator Wagner.”

  Jack looked at Rachel, and nodded. It was time to tell them about the name change.

  43

  “There’s something else Jack and I need to make you aware of,” Rachel said. “Something pretty important.”

  “What’s that?” Boyd said.

  She looked at Jack. “Want me to tell them, or would you like to?”

  “You go ahead.”

  Rachel flipped to the page where the killer mentions his son’s name and read the paragraph aloud.

  “Ernst Hausen,” Hank said after. “Who’s that?”

  “Sounds like this whole theory just fell apart,” Boyd said. “If the son’s last name is Hausen, then it must be the father’s last name, too. Which means it’s not Wagner. Which means this thing was written by somebody other than the Senator’s father.”

  “Not exactly,” Jack said. “It could mean that, but we think it could also be the evidence we need that proves both the Senator and his father are totally involved.”

  “How so?” Hank said.

  “We think the Wagner’s changed their name. We think their real last name is Hausen, and that Ernst is actually Burke Wagner.”

  “Guys,” Hank said, “I think you’re really reaching here.”

  “We’re really not,” Rachel said. She reminded them about old man Wagner’s admission to being part of the East German Stasi and, for Hank’s sake, explained who they were and why it mattered. “So see, he would have a high degree of motivation to change his name after moving to the states.”

  “She makes a good point, Hank,” Boyd said.

  “But what if they’re wrong?” Hank said.

  “If we’re wrong, we’re wrong,” Jack said. “Then this whole thing really does fall apart, and we’re prepared to accept that. But this name-change thing is something that can be proved or disproved legally. I’m thinking with Burke Wagner seeking admission to a university like Culpepper and having strong political ambitions, he would’ve wanted to change his name legally. I don’t know where to look for that kind of information, but I’m guessing you can find out definitively if someone legally changed their name.”

  “You can,” Boyd said. “All you really need is the county they were living in when they requested the name change. It would be part of the county record. You know if that’s here?”

  “We don’t,” Rachel said. “But that would be easy enough to find out. After translating this part of the journal, I got curious and went on Senator Wagner’s website. I don’t remember which city it is now, but I remember reading his biography page. It definitely mentioned the city they first moved to when they came to the United States.”

  “Well, there you go,” Boyd said. “Figure that one out, and we’ll know once and for all who wrote this journal, and whether Senator Burke has any personal involvement in this case.”

  “And if we find out that the Wagner’s last name is really Hausen?” Rachel asked. “Will you guys be willing to pursue this case?”

  “Definitely,” Boyd said. “It’s still a totally circumstantial case, but that might just be the smoking gun a DA would be looking for. I can’t guarantee he would take the case, but I would certainly be willing to go to bat for it if you guys can confirm this.”

  “And we’d probably need to get the FBI involved, too,” Hank said, “since all the murders took place in different states.”

  Jack and Rachel looked at each other, smiled. Jack stood, so Rachel did, too. “Great. Then we’ll go find that out and get back to you when we have the proof, regardless of where it takes us. Thank you for your time, gentlemen.”

  They shook hands. Jack gathered up the materials, and they turned to leave.

  Officer Tony Campbell was sure Vandergraf would want an update on what he’d just observed. Whatever was going on with this history professor, things seemed to be heating up.

  He got up and walked over toward the receptionist. “That was that history professor who’s been in here the last few days, wasn’t it?”

  “It was,” she said.

  “You know who that lady was with him?”

  “I think it was his girlfriend. I didn’t see a ring, but they were holding hands and they looked at each other like people do when they’re in love. Anything else you want to know? I could tell you the color of their eyes.”

  “No, that’s plenty. Thank you.” He knew she had been taking some night courses at the college on criminal justice, trying to improve her chances for a promotion.

  “Why do you care anyway?” she asked.

  “Just curious. You know, nothing ever happens around here. But that’s the third time he’s been in here this week, now bringing his girlfriend.”

  “Well, I’m afraid I can’t scratch your curiosity itch any further. I have no idea what’s going on.”

  He pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “I’m gonna go grab a smoke.”

  “Those things are gonna kill you.”

  “I’m counting on it.” He smiled and headed for the side door.

  Once outside, he lit up and got a call started to Vandergraf on his private cell.

  “Officer Campbell,” Vandergraf said. “Nothing from you in weeks. Now you’re calling me all the time.”

  “I know. But something definitely seems to be heating up over here.”

  “You mean with that history professor?”

  “Yeah, Jack Turner. He was here again to see Sergeant Boyd and Hank Jensen. They just left, he and his girlfriend.”

  “His girlfriend?”

  “Yeah. But I don’t know her name.”

  “Were you in on this meeting with your Sergeant?”

  “No, he doesn’t consult me very much. But I picked up some information before the meeting started. Some stuff I think you will care about.”

  There was a pause. “Okay, what is it?” Vandergraf sounded serious all of a sudden.

  “A few minutes before they came, the sergeant came out to Hank Jensen’s desk. He’s the cop that works with Boyd the most. Unfortunately, I was on the phone with someone and couldn’t hear everything they said. But I did hear him mention that Turner was coming here any minute, and something about this girl having translated some journal.”

  “A journal?”

  “At least, that’s what it sounded like. I think they were coming in to discuss some things they’d discovered in it. Then a few minutes later, Turner and this attractive brunette walk in. I looked and noticed she was carrying two th
ings. That old raggedy notebook Turner had brought in with him the other day when he was here alone, and a little worn-out-looking leather book that looked very much like a journal. Jensen met them and brought them back to Boyd’s office. I waited a minute then went to refill my coffee. The pot’s within earshot of Boyd’s office. But this time they closed the door.”

  “So you have no idea what they were talking about?”

  “I wouldn’t say, no idea. I think they were discussing whatever was in that journal, which she must have translated. Although I have no idea from what into what.”

  “What was everyone’s demeanor after the meeting ended?” Vandergraf said. “Last time, you said it was obvious that Turner looked frustrated and you said the officers seemed to be discouraging him from pursuing this…whatever this is.”

  “Well, that wasn’t their demeanor this time. Everyone was shaking hands and all smiles.”

  Another long pause. “Really?”

  “Really,” Campbell said. “Before they headed out the front door, I heard Turner say to Hank something like, we’ll dig up that information real soon and get back with you. Hank said something like, you do that. You have any idea what this is all about?”

  Once again, a pause. “I might,” Vandergraf said. “But I can’t be sure just yet. In any case, thanks for calling promptly. You’re definitely earning your keep lately.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “By all means, continue to call me if anything else develops. Anything at all.”

  “I will.”

  Vandergraf set his cell phone down on his desk. He spent the next few minutes pacing back and forth. This new information, coupled with what had already transpired, caused him great concern. He wished the Senator had given him a fuller understanding of what had occurred between him and his dead father, the shadowy history that the Senator wanted to keep hidden at all costs. Then he would know exactly how to proceed. Without that information, he was afraid to act at all on his own initiative.