Burned Too Hot: A Thriller (Val Ryker series Book 2)

by Ann Voss Peterson

  She narrowed her eyes on him then grunted. “You’re going to have to wait.” She gestured to a corner of the brick cavern that held a refrigerator, microwave, table and two chairs.

  Giving up, he headed for the break room area. A coffee maker sat next to the microwave, a full pot waiting. He poured a cup, mixed in some of the clumpy, powered, non-dairy creamer, and sipped.

  Nasty.

  Good to know some things never changed.

  In fact, other than the station itself, this whole situation was far too familiar. Waiting. Useless. Frustrated as all hell. The only thing that seemed to have improved was that this time he wasn’t a suspect.

  At least, not that he knew.

  Unable to sit, he started pacing, first around the break-room-like area, then adventuring outward. He heard the click of a door opening echo through the cavernous space and followed the sound, nearly running into Pete Olson before he’d cleared the curve of the first mash tun.

  “Lund. Can I help you?”

  “Done with the meeting?” Lund studied the sergeant. Olson was around two inches taller, and despite Lund’s better instincts, he resented the hell out of it. They’d spent the past few hours together at the fire, yet now he looked different. Not the usual arrogance of a cop in his home territory, but worried, flustered, brows pinched and cheeks flushed.

  Olson nodded at some spot beyond Lund, as if his mind was on something else. “Just about done. Excuse me.” He crossed to the dispatch area.

  Olson wasn’t exactly a chatty guy, but Lund wasn’t used to seeing him like this either. In the past, he’d wondered if the man could experience emotion at all.

  Lund turned his attention away from the sergeant and back toward the open door. Interestingly enough, the conference room was located in what looked like the brewery’s former tap room. The bar huddled stripped and lonely in the corner, bar stools cleared away, a collection of county and state investigators hunkered down around several tables pushed together, as if they were part of the most depressing drinking party ever.

  He waited until the revelry broke up, then caught Val on her way out of the room.

  She looked tired, stressed, her hair now twisted into some kind of severe bun at her nape. But even through the stress, the lack of sleep, and the uptight fashion, she could capture his focus like no one he’d ever met. When she was in the room, he had to remind himself to occasionally look away.

  He gestured to the cavernous space. “I thought this place would be… busier.”

  “The Department of Criminal Investigation is running their command center out of the basement of St. Luke’s. More space.”

  “This is too small?”

  “To handle a fire investigation, a missing child, and run regular patrols? Yeah.”

  He supposed that was a lot.

  She rubbed her forehead as if it ached. “The state can provide extra investigators. They can follow up on anything we get from the Amber Alert. They can canvass the whole town, talk to more people in an hour than I can in a week. They already have a trap and trace on Carla’s phone.”

  “They expect someone to call? With what, ransom demands? Did you tell them—”

  “I did. You might have heard the rumbles. But the connection to Hess is only one of several possibilities.”

  “I ran into Olson. He seemed distracted.”

  “He wasn’t happy that I didn’t tell him about Ethan.”

  “Neither was I.”

  Val took a deep breath. “So what brings you here, Lund? You got something for me?”

  “A gun safe, at the house. It was empty. Cleaned out before the fire.”

  Val nodded. “Carla gave me a partial list of her husband’s firearms. Olson is trying to piece together the rest. The guy had quite an arsenal.”

  “And now the arsonist has it.” Awkward and obvious. When Lund had envisioned this conversation, it had gone much easier.

  A few more seconds passed.

  “What can I really do for you, Lund?”

  He had a lot of ideas, but most weren’t appropriate, probably including the one he intended to float. “We need to go see Hess. He has to have some reaction to the news that his son is missing. He might slip up. Only you can get in and get me in, too.”

  She said nothing, just resumed tapping her foot on the concrete. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Let me do it.”

  “You can’t save me from my job, Lund.”

  “Lately it seems I can’t save anybody from anything. That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying.”

  “The last time Hess and I met, I’m the one who came out on top. Remember?”

  “The last time you met, I was there with you. We used to be good together.”

  Val dropped her gaze to the floor.

  Remembering? Regretting? He wished he knew.

  “You’re not questioning him, Lund.”

  “Question him? I was going to offer to drive.”

  The corners of her mouth ticked upward. Not smiling exactly, but at least not frowning.

  It was an ambiguous sign, but he’d take it. “I’ll get my truck.”

  Val made several phone calls to tie up a few loose ends, and Lund picked her up at the front entrance. He felt a little nervous as she climbed into the passenger seat, as if he was once again a stupid kid on a date, and he plugged a flash drive into the new radio, sweeping away the silence with a little Dale Watson honky-tonk.

  There’d been a time when he and Val had been able to talk, words gushing as easily as a rushing river. But this morning, even the short drive to Baraboo seemed impossible to fill with conversation.

  He wanted to touch her.

  He wanted to hold her.

  He wanted something he was afraid he couldn’t have. “Do you want to go over how you’re going to approach him?”

  “No.”

  “Maybe I can help you come up with some kind of strategy.”

  “I’m not sure any kind of strategy works with him. It sure didn’t in the past.”

  “It might help to talk about it.”

  “What are we going to talk about, Lund?” she asked, less angry and more tired.

  “Sorry.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just going through some stuff.”

  “Some stuff? Like an arson, a missing child, and no sleep? Or personal stuff?”

  “All the above.”

  “Grace?”

  “And more.”

  “What kind of more?”

  “Listen Lund, I know you’re trying to help, but I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  If whatever personal stuff she was dealing with involved a man, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it, either. As much as he wanted to be Val’s friend, he couldn’t help wanting more, and chatting about some guy was probably more platonic than he could handle. “Okay, let’s stick to Hess. I can help there.”

  “How?”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “What else you got?”

  “You don’t think I can help?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Your tone did.” He gave her a smile, last ditch effort. “But there’s something you don’t know about me. Something that should be of use today.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve seen Silence of the Lambs about twenty times.”

  She laughed, not loudly or enthusiastically. It was really more of a low chuckle, but the sound was nice all the same. “I’ve got you beat,” she said.

  “How’s that?”

  “I’ve read the book.”

  “Now that’s not fair.”

  “Twice.”

  “Damn. I guess that makes you the expert.”

  “I guess so.”

  Reaching the outskirts of Baraboo, they turned off the highway next to a Dairy Queen and drove into an industrial park. Populated by multiple warehouses and lots filled with dump trucks, cranes, and bulldozers, it seemed like an un
usual setting for a jail. But there it was; a surprisingly nice looking structure of red brick and beige stucco, dotted with plenty of windows. Next door was a coordinating building housing the sheriff’s department, and a contrasting barn-like steel one that housed the morgue. The area was nearly a one stop shop for criminal justice.

  Lund parked in the visitor’s area, what seemed like a mile away from the building. Before getting out of the truck, Val turned to him. “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  She shrugged, then pressed her lips into the slightest of smiles.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, and although he wasn’t sure what just happened, he meant it. “Now stay away from the glass and don’t let him pass you anything.”

  “Will do.”

  “And if he ends up being played by Anthony Hopkins, get me an autograph.”

  “Check.”

  They entered the building. They parted in the visitor area, and Lund followed the deputy into a small room outfitted with two banks of computer monitors, each showing a different area. Two deputies sat in front of the screens, occasionally pressing buttons to unlock doors and open sally ports for other deputies moving through the halls.

  Lund’s escort motioned to a chair, and he sat. Above, a vent blew a stream of cold air, causing a shiver to race over him and raising the hair on his arms. From this seat, he could scan all the activity on this bank of security monitors, watching the activity in half the jail with one sweep of the eyes. It didn’t take him long to spot Val on one of the monitors. Following a deputy, she walked through a long hall then entered a sally port. The door behind closed before the deputy at the desk unlocked the next, and she continued on her path.

  Another monitor’s black screen flicked to life. Hess, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, shuffled into view, two deputies in his wake.

  Lund gripped the arms of his chair, holding himself in place when every impulse in his body needed to launch through that screen.

  One of the deputies let Hess into a room barely large enough to hold a single chair bolted to the floor and a narrow countertop of stainless steel. A telephone on a short steel cord resembling a pay phone hung on one side, an identical phone, countertop, and chair setup facing it through a thick Plexiglas window. Hess sat, and the other deputy secured one of his wrists to the arm of the chair.

  “You might want these,” the deputy manning this half of the security monitors said, handing Lund a set of headphones. “We record all the conversations, except those between the inmate and his or her attorney. But I assume you want to hear it live?”

  “Thanks.” Lund slipped the headphones on, and a series of clicks sounded in his ears, then a hum, then a voice.

  “Thank you, Deputy.”

  Lund’s gut clenched. The killer had opted not to take the witness stand in his own defense, so the last time Lund had heard that flat, Midwestern accent, that matter-of-fact, emotionless voice, had been nearly a year and a half ago, the sound brittle in the ice storm’s chill.

  He shifted his focus to the other monitor, the view of Val walking down the corridor, stopping at the door, waiting for the technician to buzz her into the visiting room. Lund gripped the arms of his chair, knowing he was unable to stop her, knowing it was worthless to try.

  The door opened, and Val stepped into the room to face the monster.

  Chapter

  Eight

  Val

  Hess’s face looked a little thinner since Val had spent eight long days staring down at him from the witness stand, but other than that small detail, the very average man peering at her through the Plexiglas window was exactly as she saw him in her nightmares.

  The average build.

  The average face.

  The blue eyes, pale and cold as ice.

  She lowered herself into the chair and forced her hand to reach for the phone. Hoping he didn’t notice her fingers shaking, she brought the receiver to her ear.

  “Hello, Chief Valerie. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. It’s nice of you to drop by.”

  The sound of his voice slithered over her skin. “Save it, Hess.”

  His lips pulled back in a smile, showing straight, white teeth. “Such animus. It seems I should be the one upset with you, in light of the circumstances. You’ve left me with a nasty scar. Want to see?”

  Although she didn’t have any desire to see his scar, she wouldn’t mind giving him another. Deeper this time and fatal. But she couldn’t let her personal revulsion drive her. There was more at stake than how she felt about Hess. If she wanted to get anything of value from him, anything at all that might assist her in finding Ethan, she had to stay in control. Of the interview, but more importantly of her own reactions. “I didn’t come for show and tell.”

  “Then why did you come? To wish me luck at my sentencing? To blow me a kiss before I leave for Waupun or wherever they’re going to send me this time? To confess your undying love?”

  “I need your help.”

  His eyebrows arched. “You see, that’s why you’re so special. I’m afraid I’ve become a little jaded over the years. Nothing in this world really surprises me anymore. Nothing challenges me. Nothing but you. And I can tell you feel the same way about me.”

  “Your son is missing.”

  His lips clenched, and for a moment, Val thought he might have actually been surprised by the news. Then she looked into his eyes.

  No concern.

  No worry.

  No emotion at all.

  Did he already know Ethan had been kidnapped? Or was he just not capable of truly caring? “I see you’re not surprised.”

  “It’s old news. He’s been missing since he was taken from me before he was born.”

  “His adopted family’s house burned down. Arson. We think whoever set the fire took the boy. His father was killed in the fire.”

  A flash of anger. “I’m his father.”

  Finally, she’d hit home. She didn’t correct herself.

  “He only needs one.”

  “So why don’t you start acting like his father? Help me.”

  “Help you what?”

  “Find him.”

  “Seeing that I’m otherwise engaged, I don’t understand how.”

  “I think you know where he is.”

  “And how would I know this?”

  “Whoever took him did it for you.”

  No quirk of the lips, no lift of the brows, no shift of the eyes. “It’s flattering that you think I’m so powerful. But how did I make this happen? Mental telepathy?”

  “How about your lawyer? Last time you manipulated Tamara Wade into delivering your messages. Are you using Asher as your errand boy this time?”

  “Admit it, Chief Valerie, the real reason you’re here poking me with a stick is that you already scrutinized my non-existent list of visitors. So you already know I haven’t seen anyone for weeks. Not even my newest incompetent attorney.”

  “Oh, I haven’t even begun to scrutinize. I’ll find out how you did it, Hess. I know you, remember?”

  “Yes, we’re two of a kind, aren’t we? In fact, I’m beginning to think you just wanted to see me before they throw me back in prison.”

  Val clenched her teeth. This visit was a waste of time. He wasn’t going to tell her a damn thing. She pulled the phone from her ear and plunked it in its cradle. She was just starting to stand when Hess rapped the Plexi lightly with his fingertips.

  She sat back down, taking a good long time to pick up the receiver. “You’d better give me something here, Hess.”

  He chuckled. “Despite what you think, I didn’t have anything to do with this. But I can tell you why he was taken.” He paused, waiting for her to ask.

  She let out a slow, controlled breath. She didn’t like the idea of him leading the discussion, but at this point, it was clear she wasn’t going to get anything from him in any other way. “Why was he taken?”

  “You prevented me from finishing.”

  “Fini
shing what?”

  “Once you said you believed in justice. Do you still?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then you should have stayed out of my way.”

  “You wanted me to stand by and let you kill innocent people? That was never going to happen.”

  “I was the innocent one.”

  “You might not have killed Kelly Lund, but—”

  “Or the woman in the burning barrel.”

  She couldn’t disagree, but that wasn’t the whole story. “I saw what you did to that girl in Omaha.”

  “The jury said I was innocent.”

  “The jury said you were not guilty. Big difference.”

  “There is a higher court than courts of justice, and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts.” The corners of Hess’s lips quirked upwards, but his eyes didn’t smile. They never did. “Do you know who said that?”

  “I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

  “Gandhi.”

  “Every time you quote Gandhi, it makes me want to retch.”

  “My conscience is clear. How’s yours?”

  “And what you did after you were released? To Tamara Wade? To Monica and her fiancé? To Jeff Schneider?”

  “Simple justice.”

  “What did Monica’s fiancé ever do to you? Or Oneida? Or my niece?”

  He gave her another toothy smile. “And how is our beautiful Grace?”

  Val felt sick. She never should have brought up Grace. Hess uttering her name was an abomination. “None of this is about justice or conscience.”

  “You’re only saying that because you were on the other end of it for once in your life. You’ve never had to truly pay for your mistakes before, never had to account for what you’ve done to others.”

  “Murder isn’t justice.”

  “Then why does the death penalty exist?”

  “I’m not debating politics with you. That little boy is out there—”

  “Oh, Valerie, Valerie, Valerie. You’ll never figure it out, will you? And here I thought you were so like me. I’m disappointed.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “If you didn’t want any of this to happen, you should have pulled that blade out of my back and slit my throat.” Hess leaned forward until his face was only an inch or two from the Plexiglas between them. “If an injury has to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.”