The Cold Nowhere

53

‘I can’t find Brooke,’ Maggie told Stride. ‘She’s not at her apartment. She’s not at the shelter.’

‘Keep looking.’

‘Are you sure about this, boss?’ she asked. ‘Brooke?’

‘I’m sure. Lenny gave her up.’

‘But Brooke and Marty? I can’t picture her mixed up with a thug like that.’

‘We don’t know where she fits in the chain, Mags. The link to Marty may be one of the other girls who was involved with Lenny back then. Let’s just find Brooke and see what she says.’

He heard the awkward silence on the phone.

‘I’ve got her cell number. I’ll see if we can ping it.’

‘Fine, do that.’

He hung up the phone. Serena looked at him. ‘One of the other girls?’ she asked. ‘Do you really think so?’

‘No,’ Stride said grimly. ‘Brooke was involved, and she’s still involved. Margot must have talked to Brooke when she was trying to find Cat on that Saturday, and she said something that panicked her. That’s what got Margot killed.’

‘I don’t see Brooke as a cold-blooded killer,’ Serena said. ‘She can’t be doing this alone. Someone else was working with her back then. And with Marty. He’s trying to cover their tracks.’

Stride pointed at the house across the street from where they were parked. The garage door was open and the overhead light was on. They saw the ample backside of a man bent over the propped hood of a Coupe de Ville. ‘If anyone can tell us who was tight with Marty, it’s Bill Green.’

They got out of the Expedition. It was late evening, and the temperature had plummeted below freezing. A violent wind, as cold as a sharp slap, kicked litter and dead leaves down the street. Its roar sounded like the thunder of rushing water, and the dormant trees yawed with the gusts. He shuddered involuntarily as the wind hit his face. Serena’s hair swirled.

The two of them marched across the empty street toward the open garage. Inside, the wind whistled, and a space heater with a noisy fan blew warm air across the cement floor. A halogen flashlight was clipped to the hood of the Cadillac, casting a hot bright glow. Bill Green had his boom box playing the same radio station as the last time Stride had confronted him here. The song was ‘Wanted Dead or Alive’ by Bon Jovi.

‘Hey,’ Stride called over the noise of the music.

Green reared back from the car. He wore overalls and a flannel shirt and unlaced work boots. His face and hands were smudged in black and he held a wrench between his fingers. His long hair was untied and hung loose at his shoulders. The man eyed them and switched off the radio, leaving no sound but the wind.

‘You guys again?’ Green asked. ‘What the hell do you want now? Leave me alone!’

Stride slid a photograph of Rebekah Keck’s ring from the pocket of his coat. He held it in front of the man’s face. ‘Do you recognize this ring?’

Green squinted at the picture. ‘Yeah, sure, looks like Sophie’s engagement ring. I gave her the tiara and the crown jewels for our anniversary.’

‘I’m not in the mood for jokes,’ Stride said.

‘Okay, fine. It looks like the fake ring that Cat wears around her neck.’

‘You’ve seen her wearing it?’

‘The girl lived in my house for ten years,’ Green retorted. ‘Of course I’ve seen it. So what? Marty gave it to her. What’s it worth, fifty bucks?’

‘More like seventy-five thousand bucks,’ Serena said.

Green couldn’t fake his reaction. His face screwed up and he threw the wrench to the ground with a sharp clang. ‘Bullshit!’

‘It’s real,’ Stride said.

‘You are f*cking kidding me. That girl’s been walking around all this time with stones worth that kind of money? Where the hell would Marty get something like that?’

‘He stole it,’ Serena said.

Green shrugged. ‘Well, yeah, I didn’t think he won the lottery or something. Who’d he rob, Donald Trump?’

‘You tell us.’

‘I don’t have a clue.’

‘I can’t believe Marty would set up a big, high-risk burglary and not say a word to you about it,’ Stride said. ‘Frankly, it seems like something you guys would plan together.’

‘Me?’ Green shook his head. ‘Forget it. Wherever Marty got this ring, I had nothing to do with it.’

‘A lot of money from the theft was never recovered,’ Stride said. ‘Marty’s apartment was clean when we searched it. He had a partner.’

‘Yeah, well, if there was something to find, somebody else found it. Hell, if I was part of a job like that, do you think I’d still be busting my ass on highway repairs every day? You think I’d let some little girl walk around with jewels like that around her neck? Get real.’

‘Marty never bragged about the job to you?’ Stride asked.

‘No, he didn’t. It doesn’t smell right anyway. Marty was muscle, not brain. He liked to get drunk and beat people up, not do break-ins. Hard to believe he could have pulled this off.’

‘We think he had help,’ Serena said.

‘Not from me.’

‘Then who?’ Stride asked.

‘Hell if I know.’

‘You probably knew him better than anyone else.’

‘That ain’t saying much,’ Green told them. ‘Being close to Marty usually meant getting your jaw busted.’

‘What about friends?’ Serena asked. ‘Or girls?’

‘Marty didn’t have many friends, and there was only one girl. You know that. Marty was f*cking obsessed with Michaela.’

‘What about after the divorce?’

‘Oh hell, then it was even worse. No way he was going to let Michaela throw him out with the trash. It was going to go one of two ways. Either he’d beat the shit out of her until she took him back, or he’d kill her if she started f*cking somebody else. Which is exactly what he did.’

‘What did he do for sex?’ Stride asked. ‘Did Marty use hookers to let off steam?’

‘Who knows? Probably. So some guy gets a little action in a doorway. The only people who get bent out of shape about it are the cops and the politicians, and most of them are doing it, too.’

‘Did Marty know any college girls?’

Green rolled his eyes. ‘Come on, that’s not the kind of action you find down at Curly’s. A girl like that’s not looking for a fifty dollar blow job, you know?’

Stride frowned. ‘Do you know Brooke Hahne?’

‘The gal who runs the shelter downtown? Yeah, sure. Sophie talked to her about Cat.’

‘Did you know her ten years ago?’

‘Ten years? She must have been a kid then.’ Green’s eyes widened. ‘Holy shit, are you saying that Brooke—?’

‘Just answer the question. Did you know Brooke Hahne ten years ago?’

‘No.’

‘Did Marty ever mention her to you? Or did you ever see him with a girl who looked like her?’

‘Hell, no. A classy girl like Brooke wouldn’t be hanging out with a guy like Marty. She’d be with some rich guy, hoping his heart explodes.’

Stride thought: She was. She was in bed with Lowball Lenny, but that didn’t explain how Marty Gamble wound up with Rebekah Keck’s ring. Somewhere, they were still missing a connection.

‘Do you remember a home invasion right around Christmas ten years ago?’ he asked Green. ‘The victim was Leonard Keck. His wife was killed.’

‘The car guy? Yeah, I remember something about that. It was big news.’ Green whistled. ‘Are you saying that Marty did the job? No way. I don’t buy it. It’s out of his league.’

‘Did he have a gun?’ Serena asked.

‘Sure he did. More than one.’

‘Did he say anything that would connect him to the burglary? Did he say anything about Lowball Lenny or the murder?’

‘I don’t remember him saying a word, but that doesn’t mean anything. Marty and I weren’t exactly talking to each other back then. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the son of a bitch.’

‘Why not?’ Serena asked.

Green pointed at the two-inch scar on his forehead. ‘Because he nearly killed me, the a*shole! We got pissing drunk and got into a big fight behind Curly’s. It was a couple weeks before Christmas. Late, like one in the morning. He was on and on about Michaela, and I said he should just forget her and leave her alone, you know? Well, he lost it and started whaling on me. F*cking scary. He shoved a gun in my face and whacked me across the head with it. I was bleeding like a pig! You bastards sent me to a clinic and let him walk, like usual. Me? The doc gave me twenty stitches. After that, I didn’t have two words to say to Marty. We were still on the outs when he blew his head off.’

Stride nodded. They were at a dead end with Bill Green. He had nothing more to tell them. The only lead they had left was to find Brooke Hahne and get the truth out of her. She had all the answers, if she hadn’t already skipped town. If she was still alive.

The two of them stalked out of the garage into the darkness. The wind found them immediately, howling down from the skyline. It nearly drove them off their feet with its ferocious blows. The Duluth wind knew how to fight; it was a mean drunk, like Marty.

Stride stopped in the driveway. He heard a roaring in his head, but it wasn’t the wind. He felt cold, but the cold was deep inside his chest and empty, like a midnight cemetery.

A mean drunk.

He turned back to the garage and walked all the way up into Bill Green’s face.

‘What did you say?’





54

Brooke pounded on Stride’s door.

She wasn’t dressed for the cold, and the Point was alive with winter wind. She wrapped her thin arms around her chest and backed up to the porch steps and stared down the length of Minnesota Avenue. Down the long road leading toward the city, she saw no headlights.

Where was he?

She’d parked her Kia on one of the stubby lakeside streets, hoping he would miss it. Her face and clothes were dusted with beach sand blown down from the dunes. On the other side of the house, she heard the windblown lake roaring like a tiger.

The door to Stride’s cottage opened slowly, and she saw a policewoman in uniform, her hand close to her sidearm. She was shorter than Brooke and just as thin. The young cop’s eyes were suspicious. Brooke ran to the door, trying to untangle her blonde hair from her face.

‘Is Lieutenant Stride here? I need to talk to him right away.’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Brooke Hahne. I run the downtown shelter. Can I come inside?’

‘No one comes in.’

‘Please, just call him. Can you do that? Or call Maggie – Sergeant Bei. She’s a friend. This is urgent.’

‘What is this about?’

Brooke hesitated. ‘I just need to talk to one of them.’

Over the policewoman’s shoulder she saw Cat stroll into the living room from one of the interior bedrooms. The girl noticed her and ran to the door. ‘Brooke! What are you doing here?’

‘Hello, Cat.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘I need to see Stride.’ She swallowed hard and added, ‘I – I know who’s doing this to you.’

‘You do?’ Cat tugged on the policewoman’s sleeve. ‘Let her in, please.’

‘Stride said nobody comes in,’ the cop protested.

‘I know Brooke. You can’t leave her out in the cold.’

The policewoman’s eyes traveled over Brooke’s body. It was obvious, in her blouse and skirt, that Brooke had no weapon. She’d left the knife and phone in her car. She shivered with a new gust of wind, and the cop reluctantly moved aside and let her inside the house.

‘Thank you,’ Brooke said.

‘I’m calling Sergeant Bei,’ the cop told her.

‘Yes, do that, please.’

‘Stay where I can see you, and don’t use the phone.’

‘Of course.’

Cat’s brown eyes were serious and concerned. She was as pretty as ever, with her golden face and flowing hair, but she didn’t look like a child now. She’d grown up. That was what death did to you. Cat instinctively threw her arms around Brooke in a tight hug, and Brooke felt guilty. She didn’t know if she could say what she needed to say to Cat.

It was me.

I’m the reason someone has been trying to kill you.

I’m the one who told him Margot was looking for you.

I’m the one who told him how to find you.

She couldn’t believe what she had done to protect herself. It was as if she were another person, someone from ten years ago, young and stupid. Since then, she’d tried to make her life about protecting girls like Cat, but instead her past had roared back to life, like the wind on the lake.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered in Cat’s ear.

Brooke studied Cat’s face. The girl could see her guilt. The truth couldn’t hide anymore, and Brooke was tired of keeping it concealed. Cat knew that Brooke had done this to her, but there was no blame in her eyes. Just a deep, beautiful sadness.

‘Sit with me,’ Cat said.

Brooke heard the policewoman calling Maggie. She heard Maggie’s voice in reply. Fifteen minutes. Maggie would be there in fifteen minutes. She felt equal parts fear and relief, because this was the beginning of the end. Soon enough, it would all be done. She’d be arrested; her life would be over. It didn’t matter. She felt liberated.

Cat took her hand. It was odd, the girl leading the woman. Cat wore a bulky wool sweater, jeans and cowboy boots. She pulled Brooke into the dining room and they sat down at two of the chairs pulled out from the table. They were inches apart. Cat leaned forward and put her hands on Brooke’s knees. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’

Brooke felt tears slipping from her eyes. ‘I don’t know where to begin.’

‘Just talk.’

Just talk. If only it were that simple. She thought about her parents. At least they were both gone; they wouldn’t suffer the shame of learning the truth. She wondered what would have been worse for them, to know that their daughter had been involved in crimes that led to murder, or to know that it had all started when she’d begun sleeping with rich men for money. Lenny had been the first, but not the only one. For a girl growing up with religious parents, she’d found it strange that she felt no qualms about selling her body. It wasn’t anyone else’s business. No one knew.

Until him.

Until he found out what she was doing.

‘I didn’t have a choice,’ Brooke murmured.

‘About what?’ Cat said.

‘He would have exposed me. I would have been kicked out of school. My parents – my parents would have known what I was doing. It sounds like nothing now, but back then it felt like the end of the world. All I had to do was get the code. The alarm code. That was it. He swore no one would get hurt. I figured, who cares if a rich bastard had some things stolen?’

‘Lenny?’

‘Yes. It was supposed to be easy and safe, but everything went wrong. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the news that night. His wife was dead. Shot. Murdered. Because of me. All it was supposed to be was a stupid robbery, a few thousand dollars, and instead, I was a murderer. That was it, the rest of my life ruined. It didn’t matter whether I was there. I knew they’d convict me, too.’

Brooke heard the door of the house open and the angry whistle of the wind. Maggie was here for her. She hated to face her friend, but now that she’d begun to talk, it was amazing how easily the words flowed. She’d waited a long time to unburden her soul. She remembered two years earlier when she’d spoken to inmates at the women’s correctional facility in Shakopee. It had occurred to her then that it was only a matter of time before she found herself behind those walls. She’d always known that she couldn’t hide for ever.

‘I was panicked,’ she went on, ‘but he told me it was under control. He knew someone he could set up to take the fall. I was sure that Lenny would tell the police about me, but he said he had it covered. He had some ugly pictures of Lenny with one of the other UMD girls. Sure enough, Lenny never opened his mouth. Then a few weeks later, they arrested some poor Asian boy. They found things from the burglary in his apartment. It seemed like it was all going away. I began to think no one would ever know.’

Cat bowed her head. ‘That wasn’t the end, though, was it?’

Brooke took Cat’s hands, but let them go when the girl flinched. ‘No. I’m so sorry.’

‘Why my parents?’

‘You have to believe me, Cat, I didn’t know what he planned to do. He said he couldn’t do the job himself. He needed an alibi. So he got your father to do the break-in. He never said he planned to kill him, but with Marty gone there wasn’t any way to tie it back to us. I just never, ever thought that anything would happen to your mother.’

‘She didn’t know?’ Cat asked quietly.

‘She knew nothing. She was just a victim. Like you.’

Cat got up. Her chair made a scraping noise on the floor. Brooke reached out for her, but Cat turned away. The girl stood at the dining room windows, looking through the slats of the blinds. This was the way it had to be. Cat couldn’t forgive her. No one could.

Brooke opened her mouth to explain, but the hiss of the wind in the living room was so loud that she thought it would drown out her voice. Cold air bled through the house, raising goose bumps on her skin. The uneven floor beneath her feet groaned. The entire cottage shook under the assault, as if they were swirling inside the cone of a tornado.

Something was wrong.

Brooke rushed into the living room, but the policewoman had vanished. The room was empty. The door to the porch was open, letting in the elements. The open door banged like a hammer on the wood of the window frame. Bang bang bang.

Brooke stared at the doorway. The darkness beyond froze her with fear. Her face swung to Cat. ‘We have to get out of here right now.’

She hunted for something she could use as a weapon, but it was already too late. When she looked back at the door, there he was, standing on the porch, blocking their escape. His easy smile was gone, and in its place was cold death. He had a gun in his hand as he walked into the house.

‘Where’s the girl?’ he said.