“We’re going to start interrogating Blake tomorrow morning at the jail.” Director Benton informed her. “We’ve called in a couple of experts from the agency. They should be getting into town sometime tonight. Not many flights come into Duluth.”
“Anyway,” Major Jensen added. “We singled out three of the militiamen who showed signs of being intimidated, and we think we can break them and use them against Captain Blake. Maybe then we can get down to what this was all about. It looks to me that it was a setup to create martyrs or to jumpstart a recruitment scheme. I don’t know, just guessing.”
Benton picked up the conversation. “We would like to have you join us to observe the interrogation. You are the sheriff, after all, and this is your county. Do you think you’ll feel up to it?”
Deidre shifted her position next to Ben and winced from a jab of pain in her ribs. “I’m going to feel like hell in the morning. I know that, but I want to see those bastards squirm. What time?”
“The interrogator is scheduled to begin with one of the lesser figures at nine thirty.”
“I’ll be there.” Deidre felt herself stiffen in anticipation of facing her abductor.
*****
The officers didn’t hang around long after that. Ben phoned Inga as soon as they left to ask her if she minded bringing the girls home. He asked her to stop at their favorite pizza place, Do North Pizza, and bring them a family size deluxe and a liter of root beer. It was time to celebrate.
He ran a bath for Deidre, helped her get undressed and into the water. As he sat on the edge of the tub, he couldn’t help but get a lump in his throat. She had a huge bruise on her side where she had been kicked, and there were scratch marks on her chest from her blouse being roughly torn open. Ben was relieved she had not been sexually molested. He knew he would have been able to look past it, but he wasn’t sure if Deidre could have ever bounced back. She was always so strong and self-reliant that he wondered if she could have coped with having her womanhood violated. It hadn’t happened, and he put it from his mind.
But her face, her beautiful face, that was so marred. The bruises would heal, and he hoped so, too, would her psyche. As he gazed at her naked body, Deidre opened her eye that wasn’t swollen shut. “What?” she asked.
“You’re beautiful. Even when you look like hell, you’re beautiful.”
Deidre laughed. “Well, I’m certainly glad you think so. Really, even though I look like hell? I love you, Ben. More than I can tell you.” She lounged for another five minutes and asked for his help getting out of the tub. He had to practically lift her out.
Ben wrapped a towel around her, and she felt so tiny beneath his hands. He automatically wrapped his arms around her, and held her close. “I was so scared I couldn’t think straight. Nothing else mattered but getting you back.” He bent and nuzzled the soft skin on the back of her neck, and kissed her ear. Just then, they heard the door open and two voices call out in unison, “Mom!”
Ben helped Deidre finish drying her back and said, “Hold that thought. I think I’d better get downstairs and ward off the charge.” He kissed Deidre’s bare shoulder and raced downstairs.
They ate together that night, five of them including Inga. The party lasted until seven forty-five, when Deidre announced to everyone that she needed to get some sleep. The twins volunteered to clean up, Inga left for home, and Ben escorted Deidre up to bed. This time the girls knocked on their parent’s door and asked if they could tuck them in. After much ado about sleeping tight and not letting the bedbugs bite, they turned out the light and quietly shut the door. Ben and Deidre heard them giggling, a sound that was worth more than winning the lottery. Deidre lay on her side, and Ben curled up behind her, and they fell asleep in an instant.
Twice during the night Deidre thrashed around and called out in her sleep. Ben held her closer.
Chapter Fifty
In the morning, when the alarm clock went off, Deidre moaned when she tried to move. Every muscle of her body was stiff, and she hurt as if she were one giant toothache. She tried to open her eyes, but only one responded, and her entire face felt swollen and beaten. Ben touched her and she flinched.
“How you doin’, dear?” he asked, wondering if she would be able to speak, because her lips were so puffy and dry.
“Like one big cow pie,” she answered with a croaky voice. Ben wondered what a cow pie felt like but, wisely, said nothing.
Instead he answered. “Pretty rough, huh? Why don’t I call in for you and tell them you can’t make it to work today? The agency gave me a week off to get my head on straight. You certainly deserve some time to recover. What say we just ease back into life?”
“No!” was Deidre’s definite answer. She couldn’t see Ben shake his head, because he was lying to her bad side, but she heard him sigh, then say, “Okay, tough girl, let’s get you out of bed and into the shower. I’ve got a fresh icepack in the freezer, but the one you used last night didn’t do much good. Up you go, girl.”
Deidre felt Ben’s hand behind her back and felt the pressure as he helped her get into a sitting position. He helped her swing her legs over the side of the bed, and then guided her to the shower. Her steps were so short and halting, she felt as though she should be in a nursing home, and she thought she’d skip looking in the mirror until after her shower. Ben turned on the water and tested it with his hand to make sure it was a safe temperature and helped his wife step under the cascade. Deidre let out a sigh of relief as water began to wash away some of the stiffness and pain. After ten minutes she almost felt human again.
“Know what I want?” Deidre continued before he could answer. “I want a nice cup of black coffee. Not just a cup of coffee—a nice cup of coffee. And toast slathered with butter. And two eggs over easy, not too hard, not too runny. What do you say, Chef Ben? Can you handle that order?”
Ben laughed. His wife was coming back. He escorted Deidre downstairs and filled the first part of her order, then went back upstairs to wake the girls.
“Hey, hey, hey!” he called out as he knocked on their door. The response was several grumbles and groans. “Go away. We talked too much last night and didn’t get much sleep.”
“Okay,” Ben seemed to give in. “But I’m taking Mom into town at nine o’clock, and you’re not going to get a chance to see her until later. And, too, you’ll be spending the day alone.” His message was greeted with another round of grumbles, and finally, one of the girls, he couldn’t tell which one, answered.
“Can we go into town with you guys and spend the day with Inga?” Ben smiled. Deidre’s old friend had won his daughters over.
“Sure,” he answered. “At least, if she doesn’t mind. I’ll give her a call. Breakfast is served in twenty minutes.” He heard their feet hit the floor, and he retreated down the stairs. Mission accomplished.
After breakfast, the girls cleaned up while Ben tried to help Deidre loosen up with some range of motion exercises. She held an icepack over her eye and groaned as he manipulated her joints, especially her legs and ankles. The girls helped her to the car, even though Deidre tried to shoo them away. They were an intact family, and Ben took a deep breath. Life would be good again, he was sure.
Megan and Maren were dropped off at Inga’s—she had agreed to let them hang out with her for the day—and arrived at the Law Enforcement Center with time to spare. Both Jensen and Director Benton were waiting, and Deidre was introduced to two new faces, the FBI interrogators. Where Major Jensen had been in charge of the National Guard troops who had led the charge yesterday, Benton was clearly the man today.
“Deidre, Ben, these are Agents Jonathan Morst and Shelly DeLand. They’ll be working the suspects today and for as long as it takes to get what we want. We’ve got chairs set up on the other side of two-way mirrors of the interrogation rooms. We’ll try to work only one room at a t
ime, but two rooms will come in handy. You’ll see why. Well, let’s get at it.”
Deidre and Ben walked to the windows and looked into the rooms. In the first, Captain Blake sat bolt upright in his chair, a scowl on his face. In the other, a rather timid-looking man who probably wasn’t yet twenty years old sat hunched over the table where he sat. He picked at his finger, then shifted in his chair. Finally, he put his forehead on the table’s surface, not that he was resting. To Deidre, it looked as though he was nursing a headache. He jolted upright when the two FBI agents entered the room and took a seat across the table from him.
“So,” Agent DeLand started. “I’d like you to give us your name.”
The young man sat at attention. He couldn’t stand because he was handcuffed to a restraining ring in the table. “My name is Jesper Landman. I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am a corporal in the Populus Reipublicae Militia.”
“Okay, good.” DeLand praised him. “And what is the objective of your organization, Corporal?”
Jesper looked straight at her. “My name is Jesper Landman. I am a citizen of the United States of American. I am a corporal in the Populus Reipublicae Militia.”
Agent Morst exploded from his chair. “Enough of this crap. We really don’t care who you are or what you belong to. Tell me what you assholes are up to.”
Jesper looked at the agent, who was now pacing around the room like a caged lion. “My name is Jesper Landman. I am a citizen of the United States of America. I am a corporal in the Populus Reipublicae Militia.
Outside the glass, Deidre, Ben, Jensen, and Benton were watching. Jensen let loose an expletive. “Whoever these people are, they’ve got their recruits trained like military. We’ll never break them down at this rate.”
Benton smiled. “Don’t get impatient, Major. This is just beginning. Give us an hour or two.”
Inside the room, Shelly DeLand took over. “Take it easy, Jon. Can’t you see that Jesper is trained to deal with us? Let’s go to work on the easier guy. What’s his name?”
“Blake, Captain Blake.” Jonathan replied, disgust hanging from his words.
“You’ll never get to Captain Blake. He’s like a rock!” Jesper shouted at them.
Shelly came back with, “Well, last night he called to one of the jailers, wondering about cutting a deal.”
“Never! He’ll never give us up!” But Jesper’s words were spoken to a closed door. Shelly and Jon joined the group outside, and the five of them watched Jesper fidget for five minutes. He didn’t look so brave when he was alone. They went down the hall to the room where Blake was manacled to a similar table.
“Good morning, Captain Blake.” Jonathan began. “We’re being observed from behind that glass.” He nodded at the two-way mirror. “Of course with your training you knew that, I’m sure. What you don’t know is that Sheriff Johnson is out there, and she has identified you as the one who gave the orders while she was captive. I guess that makes you responsible for what she went through. Am I right?” Before Blake could begin his litany, Morst continued. “Oh, don’t give us your spiel. You are Steven Blake. You are a United States citizen. You are a captain in the Populus Reipublicae Militia. Say, you must have a university professor in your group, to come up with that kind of Latin. Of course, any idiot can go to the Internet and find out how to say anything in any language.”
Shelly cut in, “Populus Republicae Militia. What kind of boy scout group is that? What do you do, go out on field trips on your vacations and play war? Well, yesterday wasn’t play, was it?”
Blake looked at her. “My name is Stev—” Shelly cut him off.
“Yeah, yeah. We know the lingo, so stop boring us. Corporal Landman has been very cooperative this morning, especially after we told him we were indicting him for murder.”
“I knew he’d crack at the first sign of pressure. Every organization has a weak link, and he’s ours.” Blake’s words had no effect on the empty room. The agents were outside before he finished the first sentence.
DeLand and Morst didn’t stop to talk, but went right to Landman. “How you doin’, Jesper? Comfortable? Want us to get you anything? Water, a soda? Heck, we’ll even let you have a cigarette, if you ask for it.” This time Jesper didn’t go into his prepared statement, but he licked his lips in anticipation of at least some water. “You know, Jesper, we can’t give you anything if you don’t ask for it. Need anything?”
Jesper licked his lips again, but sat still. “Water.”
Jonathan tilted his head. “Water? What about it? There’s a lot of it outside in the lake. We’ve got drinking fountains full of it. You know, Jesper, we could even get some for you, if you ask for it. But, ‘water,’ that doesn’t tell me much.”
Shelly gave her pitch. “Did you mean you wanted a drink of water? Because if that’s what you want, you’ll have to be more clear. ‘Water?’ Why that could mean just about anything. She sat back and waited. Jesper waited, too.
“Can I have a drink of water?” he finally asked.
“Why, sure. Agent Morst will be happy to get it for you.” Morst left the room and stood outside while Shelly kept working.
“We talked to Captain Blake after we left you. He said we’d never break you, because you’re too strong. Said that you’d be willing to take the fall for the group’s actions if it came to that. In fact, he said that you were the one who beat to death that poor boy, Justin Peters, and that you were the one who painted all the hate slogans on Joseph Feldmann’s place.”
Just as Jesper was about to say something, Morst came in with a cold bottle of water. He tossed it to the prisoner, who fumbled it and lost control of it. Shelly picked it up off the floor, wiped it off, and opened it before handing it to Jesper. She noticed that his hands were shaking, and he used both of them to lift the bottle to his lips. Just as he was about to take his first swallow, Morst batted it away, and it hit the wall, fell to the floor, and spilled its contents.
“Enough!” He bellowed. “I can’t get it out of my mind that you were the one who killed my friend, Andy. You were the one who gunned down the National Guard troops. As far as I’m concerned, you can stay in this room and dry up like a prune.” Jonathan stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind him. Then he watched Shelly do her thing. She retrieved the half-empty bottle, wiped it off again, and handed it to Jesper, who was visibly shaken.
“Take a sip,” she said, and Jesper looked as though he expected her to pull the bottle away at the last instant. He took a drink.
“I didn’t kill that homo,” he finally said. “I saw it, but I didn’t do it. And I didn’t fire a shot yesterday. You’ve got to believe me. I did some of the painting at the old Jew’s place, and I was there when they pulled the spikes from the rails, but I never hurt nobody.”
Shelly nodded to him. “I think I believe you,” she said, and left the room. Jesper put his head down on the table and didn’t move.
“Well, back to the captain,” Morst said in a matter-of-fact tone. He looked at his watch. “Pretty good progress in only two hours.”
Chapter Fifty-One
For the rest of the morning and into early afternoon, the two FBI interrogators played their game of good cop/bad cop, alternating between the two prisoners. They believed they had the strongest of the militia in Captain Blake and the weakest in Corporal Landman. Everyone, including Deidre and Ben, could see that the corporal was tiring, weary from the barrages of messages about what Blake was saying. Twice he had asked for more water and twice he had asked to go to the bathroom. Each time he asked, his wish was granted.
Blake, on the other hand, was a tougher nut to crack, and he belligerently refused to speak. In between sessions, however, his discomfort and anxiety began to show by the way his shoulders slumped, and he held his head in his hands.
Sometime
around one o’clock, the interrogators split up, Shelly going to Jesper’s room and Jonathan to Blake’s.
“Jesper,” Agent DeLand began, her voice sounding sympathetic. “I’ve asked Agent Morst to not be here. He can be . . . a little heavy-handed. I think you and I can get more done one-on-one without him blowing a gasket every time you say something. Is there anything you want, anything you need?” She looked at him with a reassuring smile.
“My wrists are getting rubbed raw from these cuffs. Is there any way I can have them taken off?” It was the most Jesper had said at one time since his claim of being innocent of murder.
“Boy, that’s a tough one, Jesper. I suppose we could give it a try, but first, I need your word that you’ll stay put in your chair and won’t try anything funny. Remember where you are, and who I am. You do realize I have a call button, and if I press it, this room will be filled with more cops than you’ve ever seen in one room? Understand?” Jesper nodded. “No, I need to hear it from your mouth. Do you understand?”
Jesper nodded again, but this time said, “I understand.”
“You understand what, Jesper?”
“I understand that if I try to attack you, I will be swarmed by police officers.”
“Okay. Good. Here goes.” The agent leaned across the table and opened the locks on the cuffs around the suspect’s wrists. He rubbed the skin and flexed his fingers but made no move to leave his chair.
“Would you like to stretch your legs, walk around a bit?” Shelly asked.
Preying in Two Harbors Page 28
