“I wish I had known, I would have warned someone. As far as what sets her off, I could never predict,” said Judith. “Jealousy, maybe. But why did she attack Fred? He loved her. Although he was critical of how she handled their finances. Lauren has been capable of outrageous spending sprees.”
“Shoplifting?” asked Lew.
“Oh, yes—that is one of the few times she has been caught,” said Judith. “She shoplifts crazy stuff. Things she doesn’t need. For her, it’s a game.”
“Well,” said Lew, getting to her feet. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your candor. If you see or hear from your daughter, please call me immediately. Here is my cell phone number, or call 911 and tell them to reach me.”
“And be careful,” said Osborne.
“I will. I have been a target for years,” said Judith. “I’m also a mother who failed at helping her child. If you are right in thinking that—that Lauren has committed this terrible act—and I believe you are—then I am guilty, too.”
She had gotten to their feet and was walking with them to the front door when she stopped. “Be careful when you find her. Lauren’s anger is explosive. Be armed and ready. She will steal your soul if she can.”
At the door, Lew paused. She put an arm around Judith’s shoulders. “I am so sorry that we had to come here today, that we’ve had to put you through this. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult these years have been. I know you’ve tried your best.”
“Thank you,” said Judith in a whisper. She pulled the door open and they walked through. As they neared the cruiser, Judith called out, “Wait, Chief Ferris, please wait.”
She ran up to them and stood with her arms crossed tight over her chest. “Something I must tell you. I’ve never told anyone this before, but I think you should know … Lauren had a younger sister.
“We were vacationing at Lake Geneva one summer. Lauren was twelve, and Mari just two and a half. The girls were playing in the water at the resort. I asked Lauren to watch Mari while I ran to get something from our room and when I got back …” Judith couldn’t continue. She dropped her head into her hands and said, “Lauren was holding Mari down under the water. I thought she was reaching for her, but she was holding her down. She drowned my baby.”
Judith sobbed. “My fault. I tried to tell Peter what I saw, but he refused to believe me. He made me tell the authorities that Lauren was napping, that I was watching Mari play with sand toys on the beach and left for a short time to get a book that I’d left in the room. When I got back, she had fallen off the dock.
“That’s what I swore to. It was not the truth. But Peter did agree with me that she needed help from mental health experts who might understand her. That’s when we sent her to Switzerland.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was still light when Lew dropped Osborne at his car, parked in the police station parking lot. She had checked with the switchboard, but there was no news of a sighting or arrest of Lauren Crowell. Bruce had left a message that he was working with the phone company to see if the phone owned by Jane Ericsson could be traced. So far no luck, as the phone number one of the campaign staffers had turned out to be for an older phone that had been replaced just two weeks ago—and no one had that new number.
Osborne could see the fatigue and worry on Lew’s face. He doubted that he looked any better. He knew she would settle in with paperwork that was piling up from the investigation. “Call me if anything breaks, please.”
“You know I will,” she said. “It’s just that I feel so uneasy with this woman on the loose. What if some poor unsuspecting person gets in her way?” Hands on her hips, Lew stared down at the tarmac, thinking.
“What is it?” asked Osborne.
Lew looked up, her dark eyes serious. “Would you mind if I stayed at your place tonight? Last night I had the strangest feeling when I was sitting down by the water that I was being watched. I’m sure it was just a critter—”
“My place it is,” said Osborne. “I’ll pick up a pizza at the Birchwood Bar on my way home. Take your time here, and we’ll eat whenever you’re finished.”
As he drove home, Osborne couldn’t get Kaye out of his thoughts. Even though he was sure she would never have hurt Jane, he didn’t like the fact that emotions had reached such a point that Jane had fired Kaye. Nor did it sound good that she stood to inherit half the Ericsson fortune.
What he really didn’t like was that Lauren Crowell, emotional instability aside, might be devious enough to make it look like Kaye had motive, opportunity, and the expertise to have dismembered the body. That might be all that would be needed to convince a jury.
Poor Kaye; he wondered how she was doing. Certainly Ray would have stopped by to check on her. He’d said he would.
For no good reason, Osborne suddenly remembered that his shot bag, the one that Mike had chewed on, was still in the back of his car. He had tossed it there right after he and Ray had been at Kaye’s early Saturday morning, in hopes that he could drop it off to be repaired on one of his trips to Loon Lake.
Ah, he thought, just the excuse I need. He turned onto Rolf Ericsson Drive. He would feel better if he knew Kaye was doing all right. He made a mental note not to say anything about Jane’s will, or that Lew had a warrant out for Lauren’s arrest. But remembering how Lauren had barged into Kaye’s home the day before, he decided it would be wise to share some of what they had learned from Lauren’s mother, and encourage Kaye to lock her doors.
He passed the old tennis courts and wound his way past a grove of towering hemlocks. He had just reached the putting green when he saw Kaye’s house where it didn’t belong: five feet above the tips of the pines in front of him. Airborne. The fiery explosion took less than two seconds but seemed to go on forever, the exterior walls of the old blue house separating before falling back behind the trees.
He hit the accelerator and reached for his phone, braking only long enough to punch in 911.
“Fire!” Osborne was shouting the location when he passed Jane’s house and saw the caretaker cottage collapsing in flames. With the phone line still open, he stopped fifty feet from the house. As he jumped from his car, a flaming dervish flew out from what had been the front door.
He grabbed Mike’s dog blanket from the back seat and ran. Tackling the burning figure with the blanket, he rolled the body over the ground until he could be sure the flames were extinguished.
“Kaye?” It was Kaye. She was unconscious. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing. He felt for a pulse: She was alive. At least for now.
Firemen and an ambulance arrived within moments. Osborne was relieved to let the EMTs take over and rush Kaye to the emergency room. Lew arrived right behind the fire chief. The smoke was so dense, the three of them had to stand far upwind of the burning house. Lew and the fire chief listened while Osborne described what he had seen.
“Dr. Osborne,” said the fire chief, “given what you saw driving in, I’m going to bet this was a gas explosion. We’ll know more tomorrow.” He jogged off to join his team of firemen working their hoses and pulling burning debris from the house.
“Doc, you okay?” asked Lew, rubbing his arm as they stood watching the firemen.
“I think so,” said Osborne. “I’m worried sick about Kaye.”
“Let me check with the emergency room,” said Lew as she pulled out her cell phone.
“We’ve got her stabilized,” said the MD heading up the trauma team. “We’re putting her in an ambulance right now and rushing her to our burn unit in Minocqua. I suggest you give them a call in a couple hours. They’ll know more then.”
“Whew,” said Osborne after Lew had clicked off her phone. “At least she’s alive. I’m ready to head home. Pizza okay?”
“Pizza sounds perfect,” said Lew. “Pizza and sleep.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Osborne wasn’t sure who fell asleep first, himself or Lew, but he was sure he hadn’t moved a muscle until he heard Mike barking. “What?” asked Lew, dro
wsy beside him.
“Just the dog,” said Osborne, throwing back the coverlet and checking the clock. It was ten minutes before three. “He must hear a raccoon out in the yard. I’ll go let him out.” As he walked toward the kitchen, Osborne could hear the dog banging against the sides of his crate as he continued to bark.
“Hey, Mike, no bark,” said Osborne as he reached to unlatch the crate. He had put the dog in his crate so he wouldn’t bother Mallory and Kenton in the middle of the night. Osborne was used to the cold nose pressing against his shoulder in the middle of the night, but other people didn’t find the affectionate nuzzle quite so comforting. Kenton certainly wouldn’t. He opened the back door and was surprised to see the dog take off at run.
A scream ripped the air, and Osborne spun around. Downstairs! It came from downstairs. He ran for the stairway leading to the lower level of his home, nearly colliding with Lew as she came running out of the bedroom.
“What’s wrong?”
Another scream, this one guttural as if someone was being strangled. Osborne stumbled down the stairs just as a figure in black ran across the downstairs family room and out the door leading to the patio.
“Mallory? Are you okay?” He reached the bedroom where Mallory had been sleeping. He turned on the light. Mallory was crouched on the floor, holding her head and coughing. “I can’t breathe, Dad. Dad, I can’t breathe.”
“Doc, let me try,” said Lew, rushing past him. She knelt beside Mallory and, putting an arm across her back, lifted her up and onto the bed. “Take it slow, Mal, relax … good.”
Hunched over, Mallory kept making harsh, heaving noises as she tried to get air into her lungs. “Don’t try to talk,” said Lew. “Just whisper. Take it easy. This happened to me a couple years ago. I know how it feels.”
Mallory turned searching eyes on Lew, who said, “I got pinned by this big bruiser of a guy I was trying to arrest. He had me by the throat against my squad car. I know the feeling, but you’re getting some air. It’s going to be okay. Just try to relax.”
“We’re here, we’ll help you,” said Osborne, wondering if he would have to do an emergency tracheotomy. He had never done one, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t if it meant keeping his daughter alive.
“Lew, should I get a scalpel?” Lew brushed him away with a negative shake of her head.
“Someone—” Mallory squeezed out the word.
“Don’t worry about that now, just breathe … nice and slow,” said Lew.
On his knees beside the bed, Osborne said, “We need you to be okay first.” In the distance he could hear the dog snarling, barking. Mike had hold of something—someone.
“Dad, I—” She gagged and coughed.
“Good, Mallory, the coughing is good,” said Lew. “You’re getting air, just take it easy and don’t talk. Was it Kenton? Did you two—”
“No, no …” Mallory looked up at the two of them, and that’s when Osborne saw the welts on her neck.
Kenton crowded into the room behind Osborne. “Wha-a-a? What’s happening?”
After about five minutes, Mallory was able to lean back against the pillows that Lew had propped up behind her. “I’m better,” she whispered.
“All right,” said Lew, sitting beside her on the bed. “Now tell us what happened.”
“I was sound asleep,” said Mallory, continuing to whisper. “Had the blanket over my head because there was a mosquito in here and I was too tired to deal with it. All of sudden I felt this pressure on my head and my neck. I heard her say, ‘Kenton, this is what happens when you ask too many questions.’ At first I couldn’t breathe, but I managed to get one knee loose and kick her sideways long enough to scream. Thank heavens you heard me. Then she was on me again—this time with her bare hands. I didn’t fight. I tried to pretend that I was unconscious. Dad, that’s when she heard you coming down the stairs and she let go. But she punched me hard right in the face.”
“I can see,” said Osborne. “Afraid you’re going to have a black eye, sweetheart.”
“Did she break my nose?” Mallory raised a hand to touch herself gingerly.
“Black eye and a sore neck, but you’re alive,” said Lew. “You keep saying ‘she’—”
“It was that woman, Lauren Crowell,” said Mallory. She looked over at Kenton. “She thought I was you until I screamed.”
“I am so very sorry,” said Kenton, rubbing his forehead. “This is my fault. I thought the woman was a neurotic control freak, not someone who would go this far. My God, Mallory. I don’t know what to say.”
“I do, and if you’ll excuse me, I need to report this,” said Lew. “Mallory, we need to get you to the hospital and have you checked out.”
“Oh, no, I’ll be fine.”
“Listen to me, this was attempted murder,” said Lew, her voice firm. “I need a detailed report from a physician, and I need it now. Doc, Kenton—do you want to come along?”
“Hell, yes,” said Kenton. “Who can sleep after this?”
Before leaving for the hospital, Osborne called for the dog, but Mike was gone. Osborne made sure to leave the gate open.
At three-thirty that morning, the Loon Lake Police switchboard got a 911 call from a man driving home late from a poker game with buddies. He was stopped on County Road C.
“Help! Please. I just hit something crossing the road. I didn’t see it till the last minute—it was black and running kind of bent over. I thought I hit a wolf. Got out of my car to make sure it was dead. But, oh my God, it’s a woman!”
The caller broke down. “Please send help fast; I think she’s dead.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Judith Barrington leaned over the still figure under the sheet in the morgue at St. Mary’s Hospital. She had driven down immediately after getting the call from the Loon Lake Police suggesting that she stop first at the police station, where Lew and Osborne were waiting for her. The three of them drove together in Lew’s cruiser, parking behind the emergency entrance of the hospital in order to avoid a growing crowd of reporters camped out in the main parking lot.
Osborne and Lew watched in silence as she pulled back the sheet covering her daughter’s head. The car had tossed Lauren high in the air upon impact. It was the landing that broke her neck, killing her instantly. The damage to her facial features was so minimal it was difficult to believe she was dead, until you noticed the pallor of her skin.
Judith studied the white face under the fringe of black hair, the mouth agape. An attendant had pressed the eyelids closed. Reaching forward, the mother pushed tendrils of black hair back behind her daughter’s ears. “She always liked her hair this way,” said Judith. “Even when she was a little girl. She had lovely ears.
“I don’t know that I have ever seen her look so peaceful. Funny, I can’t help thinking this was what she has always wanted: to be done with us, with life.”
“The hard part is she forced someone else to do it for her,” said Lew in a quiet voice. “We aren’t pressing charges on the driver of the car that hit her. No alcohol was involved. She was wearing black leggings and a long-sleeved black shirt that made it close to impossible to see her in the dark.”
“Why was she running across a road in the middle of the night?” asked Judith.
“Doc, you want to answer that?” asked Lew, turning to Osborne.
“Twenty minutes earlier, she entered my home through a lower-level patio door. I happen to have a large black Labrador Retriever who is a good watchdog. Not knowing there was an intruder in the house, I thought he’d heard a raccoon in the yard and let him out of his crate.
“She must have run out through the patio and right into the dog. I’m afraid he nipped her in the calf as he was chasing her, and he wouldn’t let her near the car she had parked near my neighbor’s driveway. My guess is she thought that if she crossed the highway, she could get away from the dog.”
“How bad was the bite? This may sound strange to you,” said Judith with a sad smile, “bu
t I need to know everything about how she died.” She closed her eyes. “Everything.”
“Of course,” said Lew. “I lost a child, my son. He was killed in a fight, and I had to see, too. You can’t change anything, but it helps to know.” Judith nodded.
Osborne raised the sheet from where it covered Lauren Crowell’s legs to show where Mike’s teeth had broken the skin, leaving traces of blood caked on the shin.
“Umm,” said Judith. She reached out to touch the wound, her fingers lingering on the spot. She shook her head. “If only I could have done something over the years to help my Lauren. I could have loved her, you know.”
Judith’s face was composed and her manner restrained as she said, “The terrible thing is … I am so relieved to see her here. To know she can’t hurt anyone any more. I feel like I’ve been let out of prison. Isn’t that awful?”
“No,” said Lew. “We understand. Your daughter was sick. Not all mental illness can be treated. You said that someone in your husband’s family had psychotic episodes and was committed to an institution. That means there may be a genetic factor that you have no control over.
“Mrs. Barrington, if you feel confident that you have made a positive identification of the victim, I believe we’re finished here,” said Lew. “There’s just some paperwork that Dr. Osborne will help you complete, back in my office.”
“Not yet,” said Judith. “If you don’t mind, can we find a place to sit and talk for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” said Lew. “The hospital has a visitor center with some private rooms. Let’s walk down there.”
Judith followed them down the hall to a small room. After closing the door behind her, she set her purse on a side table and sat down, her hands clasped in her lap. Osborne found a quiet elegance in her composure.
“I’m so worried about the people that Lauren has hurt. Dr. Osborne, how is your daughter? Chief Ferris told me that Lauren assaulted—”
“She’s going to be fine. Bruised, yes, and pretty shaken, but she’ll be fine.”
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