“Deidre, good to see you. Come on down here. I just finished grubbing out some old cabbage roots I forgot and left in the ground over winter. Too much on my mind, I guess. Either that or I’m getting old.” He threw the roots onto a compost heap and laughed as he removed his work gloves. Johnny thrust his hand out to shake Deidre’s. “I’m doin’ really great. In a week I think I can get the garden tilled up. Might be able to plant lettuce by then.”
“How’s fishing?” Deidre asked. Johnny’s eyes lit up.
“Great. Caught a nice brookie a couple of weeks ago on the Breda.” Johnny’s face took on the appearance of somebody who had just given away a secret.
“Why, Johnny. I thought season only opened last Saturday.” Johnny began to sputter out some kind of an answer, but Deidre came to his rescue. “That’s okay,” she laughed. “I hope it tasted good. I promise I won’t tell anybody. Especially the game warden. Anyway, it would only be hearsay, because I’m guessing the evidence was eaten a long time ago.” She laughed when Johnny let out a relieved sigh.
“I’ve been worried for a few days,” he admitted. “Jeff and I talked, and I had to tell him why I was up in Toimi that day. He said he’d grant me immunity for telling him what I had to say.”
Deidre had a hard time not laughing. She was sure Jeff had no intention of turning Johnny in for his crime, but was only making the wayward angler squirm a little.
“That’s why I’m here. Jeff said I could talk to you, and I need your help. He said you picked up a hitchhiker that evening, a guy named Jeremiah Rude.” Johnny looked like he remembered something he’d rather not.
“Now there is a real crazy. I almost stopped my truck and told him to get out. The guy freaked me out with all his babble about the end of the world coming. Between you and me, I think he’s one dangerous dude.” He shook his head and spat on the ground.
“Johnny, I’ve never heard you talk that way about anyone. What makes you think he’s dangerous?”
Johnny shrugged. “Just a feeling. That and what he said. I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw him. He’s bad business.”
Deidre couldn’t quite figure out why Johnny was so emphatic about Jeremiah. “Johnny, can you tell me exactly what he said that riled you up? It must have been pretty frightening to make you so jumpy.”
“I can’t tell you exactly what he said, you know, word for word. But I can, what do they say, ‘paraphrase’? He’s one scary guy.”
Deidre still wasn’t making any progress other than to learn that Johnny had been really rattled. “Let’s sit on your deck. I’d like you to tell me as much as you can about what he said.” They sat across from each other at the round patio table.
“Like I said,” Johnny began, “I stopped to pick up this guy who was thumbing a ride. He was one big man, probably a good six-four and maybe weighed two-fifty, two-sixty. We were about ten miles from town, and I thought maybe his car had broken down. He had only a small backpack, and I wanted to help. Well, he climbed in and thanked me, introduced himself, and told me again how much he appreciated the ride. Said he was heading for Toimi if I was going that way. Then he said, and this is word for word, ‘Thank God you came along. God must have a special job for you, because he told you to stop. Halleluiah, and praise God!’”
Johnny paused. “Man, I almost stopped and asked him to get out, but then I thought I could stand his Holy Roller stuff for twenty minutes. For the first few miles, we talked sort of normal, you know what I mean? He wanted to know how far it was, said he’d never been to the North Country. Told me he was from Oklahoma. After a few minutes of chit-chat, he turned to me and asked, ‘Are you saved?’ Let me tell you, I didn’t know what to say, so I said, ‘I’m Lutheran.’ He looked at me and said, ‘So you’re not saved. Do you want to be saved right now, Brother?’ Well, I just continued driving and didn’t say anything, thought we could just ride in silence. But he kept on, getting more worked up.
“‘Brother,’—he never asked my name—‘Brother, you better repent and be saved because the Lord is going to punish Two Harbors for the way they have rejected his word. That is Sodom and Gomorrah back there, and soon it will feel the wrath of God. It’s already started,’ he said. Deidre, I have to tell you, I was getting uncomfortable, so I gritted my teeth and drove a little faster. The nut kept talking.
“He told me, ‘In some places they call me The Prophet, because what I predict happens. I have prophesied to multitudes, and when they didn’t turn from their sin, bad things happened: fires, death, accidents, all sorts of punishment rained down by God’s almighty wrath. The same thing’s going to happen here. Listen to me because, thus sayeth the Lord.’
“We only had five miles to go to Four Corners, which is where I’d decided to let him out, but that’s when he got really scary. He said, ‘I heard a young man was recently killed in town. Do you know why? Because he was an abomination before God, he was a homosexual. Leviticus says, “If a man lies with a male, as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood is upon them.” Don’t you see, Brother, no one murdered him. He killed himself by his sinfulness. Whoever delivered the blow was only a tool of God, not a murderer.’
“By that time we were at Four Corners, and I stopped, but he didn’t make a move to get out of my pickup. He kept on with his garbage. ‘There will be more, Brother. Believe me, there will be many more: the whores, the drunks, the blasphemers, the idol worshippers. They will all perish under the hand of God. Brother, I don’t want you to be one of them.’ Strange thing was, he had tears running down his cheeks when he got out. Then, as if he had said nothing unusual, he turned and asked how far it was to The Sanctuary, or whatever Reverend Isaiah named his place. Then he smiled at me and said, ‘The Gospel of the Lord.’ I couldn’t get away fast enough. Kind of ruined my evening of fishing.”
*****
Deidre checked her watch, 2:20 p.m., still time to see one more person. She hoped her next meeting wouldn’t be so unsettling. At two thirty she was parked by the high school’s baseball practice field, and as she sat in the warm sun, her car window down and the fresh air blowing in off Lake Superior, she wondered what caused people to be so blinded by their radicalism that they totally missed the beauty of the area, of its people. Her thoughts were interrupted when she saw a group of players approaching with their baseball gear in their hands. Among the players was Nick Eliason, and Deidre could see that he was the alpha male. The other boys seemed to bask in his presence, and although at first glance it might appear that everyone in the group was on equal footing, Nick was clearly the center of their attention. Deidre stepped out of her car and called to him.
“Nick, can I speak with you a moment?” Nick’s head snapped up, and he spun around.
“You can’t question me without my parents’ consent, and unless you’ve got a court order, I don’t have to talk with you.” The other boys drifted away, leaving their belligerent leader standing alone in the parking lot.
“You might not know as much as you think about the law, young man,” Deidre shot back. “Unless you are subpoenaed to testify, you cannot be forced to answer any questions, even if you are a suspect in a case.” Deidre could see a look of surprise on the boy’s combative face. “Furthermore, I am not an officer of the law, and I can’t keep you from walking into the clubhouse right now.” She could see that Nick was confused by this turn of events. “Finally, you are eighteen, considered an adult. No one needs parental consent to ask you some questions. In fact, your parents can’t demand that anyone stay away from you. With your adult status, only you can make that demand. So the choice to speak to me or not is yours.”
Now Nick really did look confused, and Deidre took advantage of that moment. “All I want is to find out about your classmate, Justin Peters.” Nick took a step toward her, and Deidre walked toward him
until they were four or five feet apart. She wanted to stay well back from what he might consider his personal space.
“What is there to know?” he demanded as he menacingly tapped the baseball bat near her foot.
“That’s what I’m asking. It’s as simple as this: Did you know him?”
Nick sneered. “I don’t hang around with guys like him. You know what I mean?” Deidre shook her head.
“No. I guess I don’t know what you mean. Tell me.”
“He was a queer, a faggot, a homo, whatever you want to call him. My guys and I, we don’t hang out with his kind.” Nick’s face was clouded with contempt, but Deidre pressed on.
“But you did know him, right? Knew him well enough to have caused him some trouble a couple of years ago. What was that about?”
Nick started to turn away, and then had second thoughts. He took another step toward Deidre, and now she was feeling like her space was being crowded. “Look,” Nick snarled at her, his face turning red. “Just because I didn’t like the little creep doesn’t mean I killed him. Yeah, we pushed him around a little. Called him some names, but we never put a mark on him. And what did the jerk do? He runs home to Momma, and she gets all bent out of shape, because her precious little boy got his feelings hurt.”
Deidre couldn’t believe the young man’s lack of caring for Justin. His vitriol was just beginning to spill out, and Deidre took advantage of his riled state. “Where were you and your friends the night Justin was murdered?”
He stopped in the middle of his rant. “None of your business, lady.”
From the corner of her eye, Deidre saw someone running across the parking lot to them, and she turned her head to get a better look. Nick’s mother, Judith Eliason, burst upon them. “I told you to stay away from my son. He had no part in that boy’s murder and neither did his friends, so just leave him alone. If you don’t, I’ll have charges brought against you for defamation of character.” The woman was livid, and she thrust her face close to Deidre’s. Before Deidre could respond, Nick barked at his mother.
“Ma, get your ass out of my business. I can take care of myself. I’ve got practice now, and if you two want to go at it, then do it, but I’m out of here.” Nick strode away and didn’t look back.
Mrs. Eliason turned on Deidre again. “Now, see what you’ve done? You’ve turned my boy against me. And for what? Some pervert that we’re better off without. I can see why you aren’t sheriff anymore. You did our county a favor by not running again, you social misfit. If you’d have done your job back then, maybe good boys like Nick wouldn’t have to put up with the riffraff they do.” Deidre walked away and got in her car. She left Judith Eliason standing alone, still shouting insults at Deidre’s retreating car.
On the way home she made a mental note to revisit Nick another time when she could again catch him off guard. Tomorrow, she planned to visit the pastor of the church she, Ben, and the girls attended.
Chapter Thirteen
The next morning as Deidre drove to town, her thoughts swung to how her life had taken on a new dimension. The school year would soon be drawing to a close, and the twins would be needing more of her attention. She thought of the plans she and Ben and the girls had made to do some traveling, taking a real vacation together for the first time. Now she was wondering if her job was going to get in the way of their family time, and she began to feel the pressure of being pulled in two directions. She forced the coming dilemma from her mind and parked her car in the church parking lot. Pastor Ike was waiting for her.
“Deidre, I got your message that you wanted to talk to me this morning. Is everything okay? Ben, the girls, you?” He waited for Deidre to respond, expecting that she must have some personal problem she wanted to discuss.
He seemed almost disappointed when she said, “I need some help with an investigation I’m working, and I thought you might know about Reverend Isaiah’s group. He’s got the church in Toimi.”
Pastor Ike looked a little deflated. “I can tell you a little about him and his group. You know everyone sees God a little differently, so we have to be careful not to rush to judgment.” Deidre sensed that he wanted to say much more than he had, but was following what he saw as his Christian duty to be kind.
“I know you want to avoid disparaging another group,” she offered, “but I’m in the middle of an investigation of a case in which they may play a role. Please, I assure you anything you say to me will remain confidential. I’d like your unvarnished impression of the group.”
The pastor looked at the floor for a second or two and then lifted his head. With a sigh, he told Deidre what he really thought.
“I can’t say I agree with much of anything Reverend Isaiah preaches. Two of my parishioners started to listen to his interpretation of scripture and came to me so confused that they were on the verge of leaving the church entirely. But that’s the least of the problem. Word has gotten around that a man who calls himself The Prophet has joined their enclave, and he is bringing a more militant message to the group. His last name is Rude, but I doubt if that is real. You see, ‘rood’ is an ancient word for the type of Roman cross upon which Christ was crucified. I think Jeremiah Rude is a misspelling of rood, and I think he believes he’s a martyr, willing to sacrifice himself. There’s a rumor that members of The Sanctuary are planning to disrupt our Sunday services sometime soon, and they intend to take over pulpits and preach their message of God’s wrath. Many of the pastors in town have met, and we’ve developed a plan for how we will handle such a situation in a non-violent manner.”
Deidre listened attentively as her pastor continued.
“I honestly believe, and please don’t tell anyone this, I honestly believe that they are a cult capable of twisting the Gospel message to support some very ungodly acts.” He shook his head and looked away as though he wished he hadn’t added that last statement. Deidre and he sat silently for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say next. Finally, she broke the silence.
“Thank you so much. You’ve been very kind to share your ideas with me, and don’t worry. What you have said will remain between us.” She stood and offered her hand, thinking her pastor looked weary this morning.
Her next stop was at T.J. Compton’s law office. He had texted her earlier in the morning, asking that she stop in, because he had some important information to share with her. As Deidre opened the door, T.J. stepped around his desk and grabbed her shoulders.
“I think we have it,” he exclaimed excitedly. “I think we can put so much doubt in a grand jury’s mind they’ll never convict Jimmy for Justin Peter’s death. There is no way he did it, and I think we can prove it, perhaps not beyond a shadow of a doubt, but logically, I think we can show they have the wrong man.”
Deidre was swept up by his exuberance, but she had no idea what he was babbling about. T.J. continued to gush.
“The DNA results of the blood on the shard of glass you found came back. The blood is definitely Jimmy’s.”
Deidre looked at him as though she were looking at a demented person. This is good news? It places him at the scene of the murder, no ifs, ands, or buts.
As if he read her mind, T.J. continued.
“Don’t you get it? Jimmy said he vaguely remembered tripping over something and falling down. Remember the slice on the heel of the palm of his hand? It matches perfectly with his story. A man is walking, or in his case staggering, in the dark. He trips and falls. What’s his reflex reaction? He throws his hands in front to catch himself and lands hard on the heels of his hands, but there is broken glass on the ground, and he slices his hand. The type of longitudinal cut perfectly matches the gash on Jimmy’s hand, and we have the piece of glass to prove it happened.”
Deidre stared at him, expecting more. “What?” T.J. asked, looking a little deflated. “You expected more?” Deidre hesitate
d in answering. “Well, we have more,” T.J. continued. “The blood found on Jimmy’s boot was on his left boot, none on the right. Jimmy’s left-handed. Get it?” He didn’t give her an opportunity to say no. “Jimmy had no motive. You told me that the woman in his group—what was her name, Carrie, Carol?”
Deidre corrected him, “Caroline.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Didn’t she tell you that Jimmy had no malice toward gays, no special feeling one way or the other? We can use her as a character witness. And that shell casing you found at the scene. I sent it to a ballistics expert, and his report is very interesting. He said it had been chambered and fired from an assault rifle, and he could identify the type of weapon it had been fired from. Said it was manufactured here in the U.S. by a firearms company, Barrett. He had no doubt it had been chambered in a REC-7, which fires a 5.6 x 45 bullet, a NATO round.”
Deidre interrupted T.J.’s river of words. “And you want me to check if any of the bikers have an assault rifle.” She smiled at his response.
“Of course,” he said, as if anyone would have known that was the next step.
“I’ll be back as soon as I have any info.” Deidre threw the words over her shoulder as she made a beeline to the door.
Six hours later she was back in the law office.
“I tracked down four of the members of the bike gang. Three live in Duluth and one in a town south of there, Barnum. They all have the same story. Most don’t even own a gun, especially an assault rifle. Every one of them volunteered to testify to that in court.” T.J.’s smile grew even wider.
“We have enough evidence to verify that Jimmy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m sure of it.”
Chapter Fourteen
The day after speaking with Deidre and receiving assurances from Jimmy’s friends that he didn’t own an assault rifle, T.J. paid a visit to the county prosecutor. He was ushered into her office, and the two familiar adversaries shook hands. She invited T.J. to take a seat.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 7
