Relative Malice (19 page)

32

Kendall rushed home after talking to Betty and found Brynn in front of the iMac, searching through adoption ads. Kendall had to give her credit; she was desperately trying to be helpful, despite having no guarantee she’d be paid for any of her work.

Kendall paced.

Brynn didn’t look away from the screen. “What’s wrong?”

“I might have a lead, but it raises even more questions. I wish I knew for sure the baby was still alive; if not, we’re running in circles.”

“Well, we could try doing a reading,” Brynn suggested.

Kendall remembered Nash’s suggestion. “It didn’t help when you did Nash’s reading. He said he asked about the baby.”

“I know. But you said you’re desperate.”

Kendall had more respect for Brynn’s computer skills than her supposedly paranormal ones. But she
was
desperate. “What the hell. Let’s try it.”

Brynn, ethereal in her white wig and other card-reading apparel, had candles burning on the sideboard next to her small table. In the midst of the candles, sat an aged photo in a gilded frame of a woman with brown, finger-waved hair.

“Thought I’d set the mood,” Brynn said.

Kendall took a seat across from her, and they began the ritual shuffling and card placement. Brynn reached across the table and joined hands with Kendall. She addressed the old fortune-teller, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Vadoma, this is Brynn. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve been continuing your work. I’m taking care of your things for you, too. They’re going to repair the door soon.

“My friend Kendall needs your help. She wants to find a little girl named Philly. The police can’t find her, and Kendall wants to know if she’s still alive. If you can hear me, please give the cards your blessing.”

Brynn released her hands from Kendall’s. “I’m going to have you turn twelve cards over right away. I don’t usually do it that way, but I want to get an overall feeling for what they’ll be telling us.”

Caught up in the moment, Kendall turned over twelve cards in rows of four. Brynn sucked in a breath as she looked over the exposed cards.

“The cards say the baby is still alive.”

Kendall felt the hair on her arms tingle. It was the answer she’d wanted,

but did she dare give it any credence?

“This is weird, though,” Brynn whispered.

“What?”

“There’s a baby in the cards twice. The lower cards, two’s and threes, represent children. A baby would be a two. See, you have a two of hearts and a two of diamonds right next to each other. They’re red suits, so that would mean girls.”

More than one baby.
Had
Chelsea Glausson given birth all those years ago? Kendall felt foolish for seeking answers in the cards. Even more foolish for her fleeting thought the second baby might refer to her own child. Brynn had said they were both girls. But Betty Ruffalo had told her Chelsea might have been pregnant, although she said that Chelsea had been rather cryptic about it. For all she knew, Chelsea could have had an abortion. There was only one avenue Kendall could think of; she’d go to the Cities and try to find out how long Chelsea had been in the system after her parents died. And hope the caseworker who’d worked with Chelsea was still around.

After Kendall left, Brynn pulled off the white wig. She ran her fingers through her short, white hair and sat on the sofa with Malkin on her lap. She hadn’t had a chance to tell Kendall about Ryan Nashlund. It was just as well. He’d asked her not to repeat what he’d said about his parents. He’d told her he and his mother came back early from his grandparents’ house because his mother had decided to get a divorce.

Nash was a nice person. Brynn wondered why his wife wanted to divorce him. Kendall? No, there wasn’t any funny business going on between him and Kendall; Brynn would have known.

Kendall went back to her apartment after the reading. Conflicted, she hadn’t wanted to share her anguish with the girl. She’d done what she believed to be the right thing for her own daughter all those years ago, but there were times, like tonight, when she wished she were the one keeping her safe. There was no reason to doubt Beth had a wonderful family, but Kendall longed to be part of her life.

Her thoughts changed course abruptly when something she heard on the news caught her attention; a snowstorm predicted to unload more than a foot of snow was headed for the upper Midwest.
Damn.
She had to be in Stillwater tomorrow for the motion to suppress hearing.

It was hard to believe Jordan could be released, especially after his rant about the baby, but it wasn’t unusual for a defense attorney to attempt to get evidence suppressed. And as confessions went, Jordan’s—if they even considered his rant about the baby a confession—left a lot to be desired. Without the gun, there was little guarantee he could be convicted.

If Travis Jordan had a chance of walking, Kendall had to interview him while he was still in custody. The only way she could do that without begging for pre-approval from Schoenfuss, would be to leave now, then call in for time off in the morning. She had plenty of unused time to burn, and she couldn’t risk being stranded in Eau Claire in the morning or having her boss tell her she couldn’t go. She had to leave tonight. She’d just gotten dressed again when Nash called.

“Hey, looks like everything with the pedophile ring is wrapped up. We did good, didn’t we?”

“I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Travis Jordan. Bellamy filed a motion to suppress the gun from evidence. He might walk tomorrow. I have to talk to him again, ask him about Gerald Fostvedt.”

“Have you found anything connecting them?”

“Alverson’s working on it.” She didn’t share her suspicions about Chelsea’s past, even though it was something else she wanted to hit Jordan with. Her suspicion had no shape yet; she feared talking about it might make it go away.

“You going to Stillwater tomorrow for the hearing?”

She should have known he’d ask. “No. I’m leaving now.”

“Tonight? Why”

“There’s a huge snowstorm headed this way. I can’t risk not being there tomorrow.”

“I’d go with you, but I have to deal with some things here. I’ll meet you there in the morning.”

Kendall had been on the road to Stillwater for nearly an hour when the first pain hit, a sharp one leaving her breathless when it subsided. The infection from the gunshot wound had to be back, what else could it be? Maybe adhesions. They’d warned her about them, but never said they would be so intense. An ER would be her only option if the pain continued. She wouldn’t reach her own doctor at this hour.

She had to find out if the threat of Travis Jordan back on the streets was real. Agent Kahn had agreed to talk to her and she met him in a coffee shop close to the Stillwater station. Kahn sat at a table toward the back, one of few patrons out on a night threatening to burst with snow showers. He stood when she approached.

“Detective Halsrud. I have to commend you for a job well done by tracking down that pedophile ring. Good work. Now, what’s so important that you had to see me tonight?”

“I want to talk to Travis Jordan.”

His steely eyes studied her. “He’s admitted killing the Glausson child. What more can he tell you?”

“I’m still not convinced she’s dead. You shouldn’t be, either.” She had no intention of telling him about the anonymous call she’d received.

“I’m not heartless, Detective. I’ve had the bureau’s full manpower hunting for the child, and they’ve come up with nothing.”

“But you’ve been looking for a body.”

“I see no reason not to be.”

“Why aren’t you putting your resources into tracking down known or suspected child brokers?”

Kahn folded his arms across his chest. “You mean now that you’ve tied up the pedophile angle? Not going to happen, Detective, along with you interviewing Jordan again.”

Kendall bristled, but didn’t dare piss him off when she had one more thing to ask him. “The hearing tomorrow—how’s it going to go?”

“You know there’s no way to predict it.”

“Are you familiar with the judge who’s handling the hearing?”

“He’s fair, not a bleeding heart, but not a vigilante, either. It could go either way. Right now, we’re just trying to keep Jordan locked up.”

He paused and pulled out his phone. “As long as you’re here, I need a woman’s opinion on something. What do you think of this?” He leaned over, holding out the screen of his phone. On it was a full set of glittering, glass dinnerware, etched crystal with a floral design and most likely accompanied by a big price tag.

“Christmas is coming and my bride loves antiques. I found this in one of the shops here and I’m thinking about buying it for her.”

Strange man. Kendall couldn’t believe he’d changed the subject to something so personal. He was the last person she’d have expected to take advantage of Stillwater’s many antique shops. Having little interest in frivolous things herself, the set reminded her of her mother’s expensive taste.

“For what that would set you back,” Kendall advised, “I think you’d impress her more by getting her one kick-ass piece.”

He frowned and returned the phone to his pocket. “You wasted a trip coming here, Detective. Go back to Eau Claire while the roads are still passable.”

So much for the personal touch. Outside the window, huge flakes of snow had begun their dance to earth, already covering it with a white dusting.

Kendall wasn’t going back.

The pains hit again shortly after she checked into the nearest hotel, stabbing at her like thrusts of a sword. With the snow accumulating so quickly, Kendall knew she had to get to the nearest ER while her car could still get her there. The Highlander’s tires weren’t the best; she’d neglected to put new snow tires on it. She looked up the address of the nearest hospital and walked back out into the storm.

33

Nash arrived home from Waukesha, surprised to find his wife waiting for him in the living room. When she’d left with Ryan on Friday, their return had been open-ended.

“Hey,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting you for a few days.”

“Where’ve you been?” She wasn’t smiling.

He explained he’d been in Waukesha and how he and Kendall had exposed a pedophile ring whose members were now in custody.

“That’s it then, the case is over?”

“We haven’t found the kid yet.”

“The child everyone else believes is dead?”

He knew her thoughtless question had nothing to do with Philly Glausson. He’d quit the force to save his marriage and his going back to investigating—with the crazy hours that came with it—had to be the hair up her butt.

“Shari, this is
one
case. I’m doing it as a favor for Graham Glausson. You know the kind of money I’m getting for it.”

“You’re full of it, Nash. This has nothing to do with money. Admit it, you can’t live without the drama of police work.”

Before he could respond, his phone buzzed. Without thinking, he pulled it out to see who was calling. Brynn’s name appeared on the screen.

Shari’s lips formed a narrow line. “Go ahead, you might as well answer it.”

He raised the phone to his ear.

“I’m worried about Kendall,” Brynn said.

“She told me she was going to Stillwater. What’s wrong?”

“She just called me from there to ask about my research. She said she might go to the hospital because she was having bad stomach pains. She told me not to call her father or her uncle.”

Fuck. Kendall needed him. But Shari was already pissed. If he left . . .

He closed the phone.

“I know you want to leave, Adam,” she hissed. “It’s what you always do.”

“Shari, we’re looking for a baby, for Christ’s sake.”

She swallowed. “This isn’t working for me, Nash. I’m filing for a divorce.”

Shivering in only a hospital gown, Kendall sat on the edge of an examining table, waiting to see a doctor. The nurses had already done an ultrasound and drawn her blood. There was something they weren’t telling her; she knew the signs. Her white count must be up, the damn infection back. But the pain didn’t feel like last time. Maybe she needed a different antibiotic, or a couple hours with an IV line in before they’d release her. She had to get out of the hospital before morning. While she was in Stillwater, she hoped to find out more about Chelsea Glausson’s early years in the Cities. Then there was Jordan’s hearing tomorrow. She couldn’t miss it.

She shouldn’t have come to the hospital; the pains were gone.

Suddenly they started again, doubling her over. Her hands gripped the edges of the table so tightly that when the pain subsided, they were cramped and sore. Her hands—ugly suckers that seemed bigger than her size ten feet. Man hands. It would never matter how much weight she lost, makeup she applied, or what she did with her hair, the freaking hands would never change.

A gut wrenching twist of pain sliced through her just as the doctor entered the room.

It was nearly ten by the time Nash pulled into the Stillwater hospital parking lot in a four-wheel-drive vehicle he’d picked up at the CPP plant. Kendall hadn’t been at her hotel and wasn’t answering her phone, so he’d driven to the only hospital in the area. He’d fought his way through the accumulating snow easily enough in the Land Rover, but avoiding other driver’s mishaps had tested all his driving skills.

He showed the nurses his PI license and explained his relationship to Kendall. They insisted they couldn’t tell him anything because of patient confidentiality. After a lengthy debate, they contacted the Eau Claire PD before finally telling him she’d had surgery and brought him to a waiting area near the recovery room.

An hour later, a doctor came in wearing a lab coat over a set of stained scrubs.

“Mr. Nashlund?”

Nash stood, a knot tightening in his stomach as the doctor took time to introduce himself and shake his hand.

He put Nash at ease. “She’s fine.”

“What happened,” Nash asked, “did the infection from her bullet wound come back?”

The doctor shook his head. “No, that appears to be healed. Her pain was the result of a bad case of gallstones. She’s rather young for them, and that’s most likely why they weren’t diagnosed when she was hospitalized for the gunshot wound. We were able to use laser surgery, so she can leave in a few hours providing her vitals are all right and she has someone to watch her for the rest of the night. Otherwise, she’ll have to stay here for twenty-four hours.”

Kendall would demand to leave the hospital as soon as possible. He’d have to get her back home where Brynn could stay with her for the rest of the night.

“Can she travel?”

“Only as far as the hotel she’s staying in. I wouldn’t advise anything longer.” The doctor turned to leave. “A nurse will let you know when you can see her. It’ll be an hour or more.”

He’d have to stay with her. All he had with him was a gym bag with a pair of sweats and clean underwear; he hadn’t planned ahead in his rush to get to Stillwater. The gift shop off the lobby had closed for the night. He’d have to find the nearest Walmart for a few essentials, and hope it hadn’t closed because of the weather.

He didn’t know what to expect, but when they finally took him into the recovery room, Kendall lay pale, but lucid in a bed with its side rails raised.

“Get me out of here,” she begged as soon as she saw him.

That he
had
expected. “What? You cant’ say you’re glad to see me, or nice of you to be here for me, Nash?’”

A brief smile crossed her lips. “I’d apologize, but I just had surgery. I get a pass.”

“They won’t let you go tonight unless someone stays with you. That would be me, so be nice. And I have to be here when the doctor talks to you, in case you don’t remember your instructions. And before you ask, they won’t include letting you work the Glausson case tomorrow.”

“But the hearing . . .”

“I’ll go and report back to you.”

Nash left the room when the nurse came in to take Kendall’s vital signs and give her a pain pill. When he went back in he was surprised to see her looking glassy-eyed and giggling like a kid on a snow day. She’d been alert the first time he’d been in the room. He went to find a nurse.

Kendall insisted on being discharged—laughing all the while—even though the doctor explained to them she’d had a reaction to the pain medication she’d been given. Unusual, but it happens. They made her sign yet another form, gave Nash three pills to give her when she needed them, and told him to watch her during the night.

Nash brought the car around while an attendant waited at the front entrance with a woozy Kendall sitting in a wheelchair. He thought it amazing that after such a serious surgery, she’d be released in only a few hours. Seemed like it was more complicated to have teeth pulled these days than have laser surgery on internal organs. He tossed the package with the things he’d bought at Walmart into the back seat and drove around to the front of the hospital.

Cold and messy, the hotel room revealed Kendall’s state when she’d left. One arm supporting her, Nash turned up the heat, then helped her over to one of the beds, relieved she had a two-bed room; he wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor. She stood next to the bed and dumped her things out of a plastic bag bearing the hospital logo: her underwear, and a pair of those ground-gripping socks they hand out to patients and probably charge fifty bucks for.

As if she’d forgotten his presence, Kendall began to undress. Nash, unsuccessfully trying to avert his eyes from her breasts, scrambled for the nightshirt he’d bought for her on his shopping trip. He held it out to her.

Still groggy, she touched the lettering on the red nightshirt. “Naughty or Nice? Guess I’ll be naughty.” Her pants slid to her ankles. Oblivious to her nudity, she pointed to the small bandages on her chest and abdomen. “See, hardly anything there. Teensy, little scars.”

She ran her fingers over the gunshot wound below her navel. “Except for this ugly thing.”

It
was
ugly. Nash felt a renewed twinge of responsibility for what had happened to her and to his fellow officers the night a stray bullet hit Kendall. His guilt faded at the sight of Kendall’s body, statuesque and glowing in the soft light, replacing all thought with a sudden yearning to touch her. He sat on the bed, put his arms around her and gently kissed her scar, her skin cool and smooth under his fingers. She surprised him by clutching his face to her belly, her hands twined in his hair. He stood, his lips traveling up her body, grazing one erect nipple, but resisting a nearly overwhelming desire to linger on her lovely breasts.

He had to remind himself this wasn’t the time or place for what he wanted. And under the influence of the drug reaction, what Kendall wanted couldn’t be trusted. She needed to rest.

He slipped the nightshirt over her head. “It looks good on you,” he said. Then, in an effort to lighten the mood, “Hey, how many guys would buy a girl a fancy nightgown?”

She giggled. “Black lace would have been nice.”

He didn’t want to give up the feel of her body against his.
This is Kendall—get a grip
.

She clung to him when he started to back away, and in a heartbeat they were kissing, deep, hungry kisses that told him they’d both wanted this moment. When he lowered her to the bed, she whispered, “Don’t leave me.”

Nash couldn’t remember when he’d wanted a woman as badly as he wanted Kendall at that moment. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Kendall’s eyes closed. She’d fallen asleep the moment she’d hit the bed. He slid her jeans off her feet and covered her as he would a child. After a quick shower, he set the alarm and fell into the adjoining bed.

She’d be furious if they missed the motion to suppress hearing.

Wednesday

The snow hadn’t stopped falling until a fourteen-inch blanket muffled any sound from the sparse traffic outside the hotel.

Kendall woke slowly, trying to piece together where she was. Her gut ached when she rolled over on her back. It was coming to her, the trip to the hospital the night before, the doctor telling her she needed surgery. After that, everything was blank.

She heard steady breathing nearby. The room, still dark, didn’t reveal who it was. Nash? It had to be, but why? He hadn’t come with her to Stillwater. A hazy memory came back to her, kissing him, wanting him to make love to her. It had to be a dream or the result of the anesthetic they’d given her. It couldn’t be real; she’d apparently just had surgery and still carried a huge grudge against the man.

She started to get up to go to the bathroom and winced with pain. Her movements would have to be slow. Gall bladder surgery, that’s what it was. She remembered they were going to take out her gall bladder along with the dozens of stones it held.

The bright red numbers on the clock radio read 6:00 a.m. Kendall had things to do: find Chelsea Glausson’s social worker and get to the Stillwater courthouse for the hearing. She rose slowly to a standing position, steadying herself with the wall next to the bed and followed it into the bathroom. A haggard woman looked back at her from the mirror, her hair falling below her shoulders in clumps. Her mouth felt like a Monday-morning hangover. And the nightshirt—where had that come from? Bright red, on its front was an oversized Santa face with “Are You Naughty or Nice?” printed below it.

She carefully lowered herself to the toilet to pee, grateful for the handicapped height of the hotel stool. When she’d finished, getting up became an insurmountable task. Before she managed to accomplish it, there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Kenny. You okay in there?”

Nash. He’d heard her get up. What was he doing here? “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute.” A sharp pain prevented her from standing. “No, better make that five minutes.” She broke out in a cold sweat as she made another unsteady attempt to stand. A sudden memory of the sensuous dream she’d remembered nearly made her laugh—what could be less sexy than asking a man to help you off the toilet?

“On second thought, I may need a hand,” she called to him.

The red nightshirt afforded some semblance of modesty as Nash lifted her to a standing position. He walked her back into the room where she insisted on sitting in a chair rather than get back in bed.

“How did you know where to find me?” she asked.

“Brynn told me you talked about going to an ER. When you didn’t answer your phone and weren’t in the hotel, I went to the Stillwater hospital. They wouldn’t tell me anything, so I had Alverson call them. After that, I was able to get the skinny on what was happening. They wouldn’t release you unless you had someone to stay with you after the surgery. Don’t you remember any of this?”

“It’s all pretty surreal,” Kendall said. “I remember the snow getting harder to get through. How did you get past all the accidents?”

“No problem. I’ve got CPP’s Land Rover; it’ll get through anything.”

His dark hair was tousled from sleep. She recalled the feel of its coarse thickness between her fingers, or was that part of the dream? It must have been quite the dream, or an amazingly erotic moment for her to be feeling remnants of its sensuality despite her condition.

“Did they give me anything for pain?”

He held out a small, brown prescription bottle. “Just three pills. You had a bad reaction to the first pain meds, so they gave you these to try if you need them.” He handed her the container and a bottle of water, which she used to take one of the pills. He said, “You were pretty out of it last night. Fell asleep before you needed them.”

She was afraid to ask for the details. “My mid-section feels like a truck hit me. These pills better do the trick; I have a lot to do today.”

He started to protest.

“Don’t tell me I have to rest. I can do that tomorrow. I need to find Chelsea Glausson’s caseworker when she was a teenager. And I have to be at the courthouse for the hearing.”

He nodded toward the window. “There’s more than a foot of snow out there. There won’t be any government offices open this morning, and the hearing will be postponed. You may as well get some rest.”

When he left to get them some coffee, Kendall washed up and did what she could with her hair. She looked like shit. Remembering she had her gym bag along, she took out the cosmetics kit Nat had given her when she was in the hospital with the gunshot wound, a double-edged gift since her roommate knew Kendall never wore makeup and Nat always encouraged her to use it. She’d stuck it in the gym bag and forgotten about it. Maybe today it would do its magic and help her look like she hadn’t just had surgery the night before.