An Iron Fist, Two Harbors

by Dennis Herschbach

  Deidre wanted to yell, “Well, what do you know?” but she restrained herself. “Hi, Mr. Samuelsen?” she asked as she extended her hand, which he shook with a firm but not uncomfortable grip. Deidre liked that kind of handshake. “You saw my poster. Which one?”

  “My boy and I were fishing on Stewart Lake. We go there probably once a week. Fishing wasn’t good today so we came in early. Saw your notice on the board by the boat landing, and thought I’d better give you a call.”

  Before Deidre could rush in, Ben took over the questioning. “We’d sure like to know what you remember. How is it that you remember that far back? It was months ago.”

  “I remember the day perfectly. It was one of the first evenings my boy had free. He’s in track, and they always had practice or a meet. He made it to state this year,” he added proudly. “Anyway, it was three weeks before the section meet. I know that for sure, and the perch were almost jumping into the boat.”

  Deidre was getting jumpy, and she nearly blurted out, “Get to the damn point,” but she held her tongue. Mr. Samuelsen continued.

  “Anyway, we were late getting off the lake, dark, and we could barely see to tie the boat down on the trailer. Mosquitoes. I tell you, they about carried us away. Eventually, we got the boat strapped down. By the time we got rolling it must have been almost ten o’clock. Anyway, when we got just past the Spooner Road, we saw this guy jogging on the side of the road. He was trotting along at a fairly good pace. Now, I know most people don’t just go jogging for fun that time of night. Figured he must have had car trouble and was trying to get back to town. I rolled down my window as we came up on him, but he just kept jogging. Never missed a stride. I asked if he needed a lift, and finally he stopped. Wasn’t breathing hard. He said his car had broken down, just as I suspected, and that he’d take a lift out to the highway, where he could thumb a ride to his house.”

  Ben glanced at Deidre, and with his look tried to convey the idea that they should let Mr. Samuelson keep talking.

  “Anyway,” the man continued, “he climbed in the back of the cab. Didn’t say anything the whole way. We let him out when we hit the blacktop, where the road Ts. He went left. We went right. That’s the last we saw of him.”

  Deidre could stay still no longer. “Can you describe the man for us?” She hardly got the question out when he shook his head.

  “It was really dark that night, and the interior light is burned out in my truck, so I couldn’t get a good look at him. He had on a baseball cap pulled down low over his eyes. I remember that. Anyway, I know I couldn’t pick him out in a lineup, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Deidre wasn’t, but before she could say anything, Ben asked a question. “What was he built like? Could you tell?”

  Mr. Samuelson thought for a moment. “When I stopped, he was silhouetted in the headlights. I’d say he wasn’t huge, but not small, either. You know, kinda tall, athletic, like a runner who was in good shape.”

  “That’s good,” Ben reinforced the observation. “Do you remember anything about his cap that might be different?”

  Again, Mr. Samuelson took his time answering. He said. “Well, now that you mention it, there was an emblem on the front, above the bill. The thread that had been used was almost florescent, you know, like blaze orange, but this wasn’t orange, it was yellow. The emblem might have been crossed hockey sticks. . . . No, on second thought, it might have been crossed golf clubs . . . or even crossed baseball bats. I don’t know. Anyway, I know it was a shiny yellow something.”

  “Is there anything else you can remember about that night? It’s very important to us,” Deidre added.

  “Only that the guy made a mess in my pickup. His shoes must have been covered with mud, because gobs of the stuff dropped off while we rode. I think his pants were coated, too, because there are mud smears on the seat.”

  Deidre jumped at what he said. “You said ‘are.’ ‘There are.’”

  “Did I? I don’t know.”

  “Mr. Samuelsen, is the mud still in your pickup?”

  He looked a little sheepish. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s in the back seat, and, well, I’m not a clean freak.” He chuckled. “I’ve got a lot of fishing junk back there and never took time to unload it all and sweep out the mess.”

  Deidre could have hugged the messy fisherman. “Mr. Samuelson, would it be okay if we looked in your pickup? If we find some mud, we’d like to take a sample of it.”

  Samuelson was taken aback by Deidre’s enthusiastic entreaty. “Well . . . sure. Take all the mud you want.” Then he added, “You can even take out the floor mats and clean them for me.” He laughed.

  Deidre rushed into the house and came back with a handful of unused Zip-Lock bags. It was difficult for Ben to keep up with her, and he caught her hand just before she opened the club-cab door.

  “Hey, wait up,” he said, a little more sharply than intended. “At least put on a pair of rubber gloves before you start rummaging around.”

  “Right,” Deidre said, and raced back to the house. All she could find was a pair of gloves designed for cleaning toilet bowls. She quickly tore open the package and was back at the pickup in no time.

  The seat was piled high with waders, bait buckets, and an assortment of other fishing paraphernalia, which she stacked as neatly as she could on the ground. Eventually, she worked her way down to the floor mats. Samuelson stood nearby, not quite sure what was going on. He watched as Deidre gently placed chunks of dried clay into bags, then took a roll of scotch tape from her pocket. She pulled off a strip, patted it on the seat, and bagged the strip. She repeated the process several times. When she was done and she and Ben had replaced the fishing gear, she turned to Samuelson.

  “I need to ask one more favor of you. The sheriff will be contacting you tomorrow. Would you be willing to tell him everything you’ve told us?”

  “Yeah, that’d be okay,” he answered. “I get off work at four. Anytime after that would be all right.” Deidre thanked him profusely and told him how grateful she was for his cooperation. Ben shook his hand.

  “Well, anyway,” Mr. Samuelson said, “I better get going. My boy was cleaning up the boat when I left, and he’s going to think I was stalling until he finished.”

  Deidre and Ben watched as he drove away. “I’m going to call Jeff. Then let’s go get a sample of the mud where we found Maren’s car so we can make a comparison.”

  Ben laughed, and it registered in Deidre’s mind how seldom he did that anymore. “Easy, there, Sherlock. I’m as anxious as you to get moving on this, but it would be dark by the time we got there. Let Jeff take it from here. You’ve done your part.” As they stood in the driveway, he wrapped his arms around her. “Thank you.”

  Deidre felt the warmth of his chest but forced herself to push away. “Come on. I’m calling Jeff.”

  She rushed to the house, Ben trailing at a slower pace. It took only a few minutes to tell the sheriff what had transpired, and she could tell by his tone that he thought this was a significant break. After asking for Samuelson’s phone number, he said he’d be out early the next day to pick up the samples and take them to the forensics lab. As soon as she hung up, she dialed another number. By this time, Ben was standing beside her.

  “Dave. I had to call you right away. We’ve located the person who picked up the guy who left Maren’s car in the woods.” She realized she wasn’t being totally coherent, but was so excited her words couldn’t keep up with her thoughts. “Yeah, that’s right. . . . Sure, come right out. I’m so wound up I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight, anyway.” In her giddiness she realized she had used the “anyway” like Samuelson did. Anyway, she thought and giggled under her breath. Who cares?

  Dave must have gotten into his car immediately after hanging up and must have broken the speed limit all the way. It seemed only minutes passed before Deidre saw the headlights of his car turn into their drive. He burst into the kitchen, out of breath.

  Before e
ither Deidre or Ben could say anything, Dave blurted, “Tell me what you found out.”

  They went into the living room, and Dave perched expectantly on the edge of a lounger. Ben let Deidre relay the news.

  “But he couldn’t ID the guy he picked up?” Dave asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

  “He said it was a dark night and that the dome light in his cab was burned out. All he could give us was the general build of the guy. That’s about all he had, but those mud samples in his truck might confirm that he was the guy.”

  She saw Dave’s shoulders sag and he sat back his chair, which she took to be a sign of dejection.

  “I’m sorry if I got your hopes up, Dave,” she said. “But this is something. If I learned anything in law enforcement, it’s that one small thing adds to another and soon it snowballs. Sooner or later, we’ll find out what happened.”

  Dave stuck around longer than usual, and Deidre could tell he was becoming more relaxed the longer they talked. She felt sorry for him, thinking of how lonely he must be. For an instant, she remembered the panic she felt for months after her fiancé had been killed when she was young and still the county sheriff. I got over it; so will he, she thought.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Five

  JEFF STOPPED BY AT NINE the next morning to pick up the samples Deidre had collected. “You want to ride with? I’m heading out to gather more mud samples from where Maren’s car was abandoned. I know the lab’s already analyzed the samples we took before, but we want to be absolutely sure.”

  Deidre slipped into a pair of hiking boots and got in his SUV. It wasn’t long before they were bumping over the rocks on the Spooner Road.

  “There!” She pointed to the spot where she had discovered the footprints in the mud and where Jeff had made the casts. Jeff stopped and they got out. What had been mud was now completely dry. Deidre picked her way over the cracked surface.

  “I can still see where the tracks were,” she said excitedly. “This clay holds an imprint for a long time. Once it dries like this, it’s almost as hard as brick.”

  Jeff followed her and agreed with her assessment. Even though the sharp outline of the tracks was deteriorated, the impressions were still visible. It would be no problem taking samples from where he had made the casts of the original evidence, but when he was securing samples of the clay, he wondered aloud if it was much use.

  “Deidre, I hate to put a damper on your enthusiasm, but I hope you understand that even if the samples from Samuelson’s truck match the clay from this spot, it won’t prove much. Without him being able to identify the person he picked up that night, we won’t have much to go on.”

  Deidre reflected on what Jeff said. “Yes, but isn’t it better to have some evidence rather than none? Sooner or later the pieces will come together, and this might be one of those pieces.”

  On the way back to her house, Deidre was silent for some time.

  “Dave came over last night,” she said to Jeff.

  “Did you tell him about Samuelson?

  “I called him right after I called you. He was so excited to hear the news he asked to come out. He made it in record time. I’m surprised one of your deputies didn’t pick him up for speeding.”

  “How did he take the news about Samuelson picking up a jogger?” Jeff asked rather matter-of-factly.

  “I felt sorry for him,” Deidre said. “He seemed so concerned, anxious, I’d say, to find out if this was the key that would unlock the mystery. When I told him that Samuelson didn’t get a good look at the man, his whole demeanor changed. It was almost as if the tension left his body. I think he anticipated hearing that Samuelson could provide information to a sketch artist or something. You know how it is these days. Everybody watches murder mysteries on TV and think what they see is reality.” She gave a short laugh. “Seriously, I think he was expecting a whole lot more. Maybe I sounded too excited on the phone, and that got his hopes up. He’s a good kid who’s gone through a lot. But I suppose he’ll make it, like the rest of us will.”

  Jeff dropped her off at home, and before pulling away, rolled down his window to say a few words.

  “I didn’t mean to sound so negative back there. These dirt samples might be important. We don’t know, and that’s why I’m taking this seriously. I’ll be in touch as soon as the lab reports come back. By the way, I’m meeting Samuelson after work tonight. We want to get his statement on record. He seems like a pretty good guy, at least from our conversation on the phone this morning. Take care.” He drove away, leaving her standing by the mailbox.

  *****

  TWO DAYS WENT BY and still no message came from Jeff. Deidre knew that lab tests took time. Because Maren’s apparent abduction was becoming at best a lukewarm case, she also knew that the tests would be moved to the bottom of the lab’s work list. Still, it was difficult for her to be patient. That’s why when her phone rang and the caller ID showed the call was from Jeff, she was in such a hurry to answer she fumbled the phone. She picked it up and answered.

  “Jeff, what do you have?” she asked without even saying hello.

  “Deidre, can you come into town right away? I’ve got something to tell you. We might be driving to Duluth, and if we do, is there any chance Ben could meet us at the St. Louis County Jail?”

  Deidre’s heart jumped. “Of course! Can you tell me what’s up? Dang, the boys are at the river, fishing, and I’ll have to round them up. Can this wait that long? Oh, and I’ll have to get them to their grandparents before I can leave town?”

  “Deidre. Slow down. What I have to tell you will wait. I’ve got some stuff to get done in the office. Be here in an hour or so, and I’ll fill you in on what’s happened.”

  Deidre ran to the river, glad that she knew the boy’s favorite fishing hole. They turned in fear as she came crashing through the brush. They thought it had to be a pretty big animal coming after them.

  “Gather up your stuff,” she urged. “I’ve got to get into town. Jeff called and said he wants to see me. Hurry, now. We don’t have a lot of time.”

  On the way into town, the boys wanted to know if Jeff had found out what happened to Maren. Deidre said she didn’t know, but she suspected that was what he called about. She dropped the boys off at their grandparents’ and was in Jeff ’s office less than an hour after his call.

  Deidre stood at the locked door of the sheriff’s office, waiting to be buzzed in. When she was finally granted entrance, she rushed through the door. Jeff was waiting for her.

  “Let’s head to Duluth, and along the way, I’ll fill you in on what I know so far,” he said in greeting. It took only seconds for them to reach his vehicle, and in minutes they were out of town, heading to Duluth on Highway 61.

  “Here’s what we have. A Two Harbors man was arrested by the Duluth police after raping a young woman. That happened two days ago. She was parked at Brighten Beach, watching the moon rise over the lake. Not a smart thing to do alone,” he added. “But that doesn’t excuse what he did to her. The suspect, Jamie Storder, sneaked up behind her car, crept around to the passenger side and forced his way in. He raped her and choked her, then dumped her body out of the car. He thought she was dead. Then he drove her car out of town and up the Homestead Road, where he ditched it on a logging road. Storder then tried hitchhiking back to Duluth. That’s where he lives now. A St. Louis County deputy stopped him to see if he needed help, but he acted so suspicious that the deputy took a closer look. Storder had scratches all over his face and hands.”

  Deidre cut in. “There had to be more than that. You can’t pick somebody up for walking beside the road, or because he has scratches on his face.”

  “True, but you can bring someone in if they match the description of a suspect. The girl he thought he killed? She lived. She was found by a couple of teens who had come to Brighten Beach to watch the submarine races in the moonlight. They called 911. She was able to give a pretty good description of her attacker. She also had a lot of her at
tacker’s skin under her fingernails. When the deputy saw all the deep scratches on his face, that was enough reason to stop Storder and search him. Seems he also had a small packet of meth on him. We’re going to question him about Maren.”

  Deidre was pensive. In a way, she wanted this man to be Maren’s abductor. On the other hand, she didn’t. The way things stood, there was always a chance her daughter would be found, alive.

  “One thing doesn’t fit,” she voiced her opinion. “This girl was left for dead in a spot where she would surely be found. And it seems to me to be a crime of opportunity. Maren’s abduction seems to have been planned out, more deliberate, don’t you think?”

  “I know what you’re saying, but I’ve checked around. Storder comes back to Two Harbors quite regularly. I showed his picture to the waitresses at the restaurant where Maren worked. He frequented the place often enough that they recognized him. I think this is the best lead we’ve had yet.”

  By that time, Jeff and Deidre had reached the St. Louis County jail, and she recognized Ben’s SUV sitting in the parking lot. He was waiting in the lobby.

  “Ben, good to see you,” Jeff said as he clapped him on the shoulder. “Let’s go in. I’ve made arrangements for the two of you to watch as I interview this guy. This is a pretty modern place, and they have a comfortable viewing area on the other side of the glass.”

  Everyone was ushered to their places by jail personnel. Ben and Deidre sat near a one-way window. They could see in, but those on the other side couldn’t see out. Through an intercom, they heard Jeff ’s chair scrape on the floor as he pulled it back from a table and sat down. In minutes, a guard entered with the prisoner. He was shackled. Deidre immediately noted that he looked athletic, perhaps six-two and slim. She could picture him being a runner.

  Both she and Ben had expected him to look like a burned-out meth addict, but that wasn’t the case. He was clean-shaven and his hair was neatly cut. The guard attached his handcuffs to a ring anchored in the tabletop. Storder was defiant, staring directly at Jeff.