Relative Malice (24 page)

42

Sunday

Nash wasn’t supposed to be on his feet even with crutches, except to go to the bathroom or to the kitchen for food. No driving or leaving the house; it sucked. At least the shot had missed his femoral artery or he might not be alive to bitch about his situation. He’d thought about leaving the house, but the temperature had risen, hovering around the freezing mark, and an ice storm had started to move through the area. He didn’t dare try to travel in it.

If only Kendall would answer her phone. He wasn’t surprised she was avoiding him, but she could at least let him explain. The pseudo-reunion with his wife had only come about because of his injury. He’d agreed to see a marriage counselor, something he’d never done before. He knew Shari had seen it for what it was—a last ditch effort to revive a dying relationship—an effort with little chance of success. She’d insisted the therapist would be right for them. Someone she knew had recommended the woman because of her no-nonsense approach. After an initial evaluation of a couple’s situation, she preferred working with the ones whose relationships she believed stood a chance.

Nash didn’t think they were one of those couples.

________

Schoenfuss turned down Kendall’s request to put a watch on Dahlgren. The Feds had found a car at the Madison airport with stolen plates. The Eau Claire dealer who’d sold the car reported that the purchaser, a woman whose description he’d somehow forgotten, had paid cash for the vehicle. Checking manifests for flights out of Madison, they came across the name of a woman who had taken a late flight to Cancun the day before and whose passport turned out to be bogus. They hadn’t found her yet, but the police in Cancun were trying to locate her in an effort to determine if she was Rindsig. She loosely fit Rindsig’s description but without the red hair. The discovery of the suspicious woman waylaid any hope Kendall had for putting a 24/7 tail on Dahlgren.

As a favor to Kendall, Alverson and Joe Monson checked Dahlgren’s whereabouts during the day, reporting nothing unusual in the boy’s routine. He went to classes and was seen in the company of other students in between them. By three he’d checked in at his after school job, waiting tables at Olive Garden.

The ice storm hit Eau Claire in full force by four, causing power outages sprinkled around the area and enough accidents to employ every cop on the force. Kendall left the minute her shift was over, wishing she had better tires on the Highlander. She inched her way across town and parked in the back of the Olive Garden’s lot after a quick trip into the bar where she could see Dahlgren still schlepping trays of food. She planned on watching him until he left work, then follow him to make sure he want right home.

Before Kendall left the station, Teed had called to let her know Fostvedt’s print was a possible match to the one they’d found on Sienna Glausson’s wrist. It wasn’t a good enough match to be used at trial, but it didn’t rule out the possibility that Fostvedt had been the one who’d attacked Seinna.

Adding to her problem list, Schoenfuss was still insisting she do the TV interview. Rianna Jackson from the TV station had left messages for Kendall—messages, like Nash’s, Kendall hadn’t answered.

Brynn hadn’t found a thing on Ruby worth telling Kendall. Rather than subside, the pain from her injuries seemed to escalate with time. She rubbed her ankles, thinking a soak in a warm bath might help, when there was a knock at her door.

Ryan Nashlund carried in a brown, paper bag. “I brought us some Moose Tracks.” He pulled a half-gallon container of ice cream from the bag.

She wrinkled her nose. “Kind of cold for ice-cream. What are you doing driving in this weather?”

“Never too cold for ice-cream. And I’m not driving. A friend dropped me off.” He walked into the kitchen for spoons and bowls. “This stuff is great. You gotta try some.” After he’d filled two bowls, he came over to where she sat in front of the iMac and handed her one. “What are you working on?”

“I’m trying to find something about Ruby Rindsig for Kendall.”

“Like what?” He’d heard about the missing Ruby on TV.

“Something that’ll help them locate her,” Brynn explained. “Kendall thinks Ruby might come back to see Jeremy Dahlgren.”

“Dahlgren? I thought he was tight with Sienna Glausson.”

“He was, but after she died, he hooked up with Ruby. Kendall thinks because Ruby’s got a big thing for him, she won’t be able to stay away.”

Ryan savored his ice cream, watching her search. “Hey, did you check out Facebook?”

“There wasn’t anything there.”

“Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure. I don’t know too much about Facebook.”

“Move over.”

Brynn gave up her place in front of the computer. Ryan sat down and held up his hands, wriggling them as if readying them to play a piano concerto. “You’d be surprised what you can find on Facebook if you know how to look.

The pasta crowd at Olive Garden had begun thinning out when Kendall got the call from Brynn. “I found something for you.”

“I thought I told you that wasn’t necessary.”

“She almost killed us,” Brynn said. “I want you to get her.”

Revenge could be sweet, even for Brynn. “All right, what have you got?”

“Ryan found it on Facebook.”

“Ryan’s working with you?” Getting another citizen involved was not a good idea; her luck with Schoenfuss could be running out.

“It’s about Jeremy Dahlgren. His grandfather has an ice fishing place and Jeremy’s been using it. He’s been meeting someone there.”

“Brynn, if it was posted on Facebook, it can’t be Ruby. Too public.”

“Duh. It wasn’t on his Wall; it was in private messages with no name on them.”

Suddenly too excited to ask the obvious—how they had gotten hold of a private message—Kendall couldn’t help thinking an ice fishing shanty in the middle of the night would be a ideal clandestine meeting place.

“Can you find me his grandfather’s name? Or anything that would tell us where the shack is?”

Brynn ignored Kendall’s question. “There’s a weather emergency. You should come home now.”

“I’ve driven in worse than this. Keep working on it.”

Kendall dialed her Uncle Al. He might have heard of Dahlgren’s grandfather. Luckily, cell service on the cove was surviving the storm. Her uncle picked up on the first ring.

“Hi, Kenny. What’s up?”

She explained what she needed. “I thought you might have heard of him, but I’m not even sure if his last name is Dahlgren. It would help me a lot to know where his shack is.”

“I don’t recall a Dahlgren, at least not one that’s a member of the Ice Anglers. I’ll make some calls.” Kendall knew The Ice Anglers was a local group of ice fishermen.

When she couldn’t reach Alverson, Kendall called the station to see who was on duty. Shit. Paula Burnham. Kendall dialed her number.

“Burnham.”

“Halsrud here.”

“Thought you were on desk duty.”

“I got the okay to put surveillance on the Dahgren kid.” A small bending of the truth. “I got a tip he’s been meeting Rindsig at his grandfather’s ice shanty. I’m going to cover it tonight and thought it would be a good idea to have backup.”

“She’s probably laying on a beach drinking pineapple Daquiri’s.”

It seemed that’s what everyone thought. “Maybe. But she was hung up on Dahlgren. I don’t see her giving him up.” But would Rindsig go to meet him on a night like this? There’d be an accident on every corner and cops attending them. Then, maybe all the better for Ruby; they’d be too busy to look for her.

Burnham expressed an irritated sigh. “No can do, Halsrud. We’re up to our eyeballs here. Besides, if your chick is still sniffing after the boyfriend, she won’t crawl out of her hole to meet him on a night like this.”

At least Kendall could say she’d tried for backup.

Brynn came through with the grandfather’s name, which was not the same as Dahlgren’s. Thanks to her uncle, Kendall found out that Myron Wetzel’s ice fishing shanty was one cove east of her uncle’s on Lake Wissota. Now she wouldn’t have to wait for Jeremy to leave; she could drive out to the lake and park near the shanty to watch for him or Ruby to show. Kendall checked her car to be sure she had what she’d need: a snowmobile suit, waterproof hat and a pair of Trekkers for the bottom of her boots. Even with the steel-tipped grippers, walking on the ice-topped snow would be a bitch.

She left the Olive Garden heading for Lake Wissota. The cove holding Myron Wetzel’s shanty spouted at least a dozen of the tiny sanctuaries. A two-lane highway cut close to the frozen lakeshore. On the other side of the road was a supper club with only two cars still parked in the front lot. Kendall pulled in next to them with the Highlander pointed toward the cove. She’d barely parked the car when she got another call from Brynn and Ryan; Dahlgren’s visitor planned on meeting him tonight.

43

After a treacherous trip out on the cove making sure the shanty and its neighbors were uninhabited, Kendall returned to her car and settled in to wait for Dahlgren or Ruby to appear. She was parked within sight of the boat landing where Dahlgren would make his entrance onto the lake. Twenty minutes later, a car pulled in next to her, Paula Burnham in an unmarked.

Burnham got out of her car and settled herself next to Kendall.

“I thought you were up to your eyeballs,” Kendall said.

“I was. Got tired of sorting out accidents caused by all the douche bags that can’t drive on ice. What’s the matter with people, they can’t stay in on a night like this?”

“Didn’t by any chance bring some food, did you?”

Burnham pulled a candy bar out of her pocket and handed half to Kendall. “So you think Rindsig’s gonna show for a little nooky on the ice?”

“Dahlgren’s meeting
someone
here.”

“Hafta be her then; it’s kinda late for fishing.”

“Not really. The diehards are at it all night. My uncle sleeps in his; has a bell on his tip-up.”

Burnham snorted. “Couldn’t pay me enough to sit in one of those things and wait for a fish to bite. Those damn heaters they use can cook your ass while you sleep. Or blow you up.”

“Once we see Dahlgren drive up, one of us can follow him on foot.”

“I’ll man the car and watch for the visitor.”

“Fine.” Kendall didn’t want to start a pissing match with the other woman by reminding her that she wasn’t supposed to be doing anything physical. It had been nearly five days now since her surgery, and Kendall felt great.

Minutes later, a dark pickup entered the middle of the cove.

“Think that’s the Dahlgren kid?” Burnham asked.

“No, he’s driving the family SUV, and I think he’d use the boat ramp closest to the cove, the one just across the street. It’s the fastest way here from where he works. We can see it from here. That truck’s probably from one of the other shacks.”

The pickup stopped in the middle of the cove, far from the area where most of the shacks were located. Kendall picked up her binoculars.

“Crap. I can’t see much, but two men got out of the pickup and I think one of them is carrying an auger. Just what we need, some idiots setting up in the freezing rain. They could scare off Rindsig. I’m going out there and tell them to move on. Flash the headlights once if you see Dahlgren. He’s driving a black Blazer.”

In a dark snowmobile suit, with her Trekkers on her boots once more, Kendall edged through the trees surrounding the boat landing and out onto the lake. She moved cautiously across the icy snow, stopping behind each shack so she could keep an eye out for Dahlgren. She approached the two ice fishermen, knowing they hadn’t heard her coming toward them above the whine of the auger.

Up close, she announced herself as a cop, the small lantern they had next to them just enough to illuminate her. The noise from the auger ceased.

She repeated, “Eau Claire police. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you guys to set up somewhere else. Move on to the next cove or go across the lake. Better yet, go home where you’ll be warm.”

When they turned to her, she saw her father and her uncle looking up from over the auger. Her uncle had ratted her out to her father.

“What the hell are you two doing here? Dad, you know better. You could blow this whole thing for me.”

“Kenny,” he argued, “I was a cop. I know what I’m doing. This is a hot spot. Guys come and go all the time. I’ve got a bottle of whiskey. We’ll pass it back and forth just like anyone else would and no one will ever know we aren’t what we look like.”

Her mind raced with all the things that could go wrong. “No one’s going to be coming and going on a night like this. And, please tell me you aren’t carrying.”

When he didn’t answer, she fought to contain her anger. He’d brought a gun. “That’s it. Pack up your stuff and get out of here.”

She saw a flash of headlights from shore. “Goddamn it! Dahlgren’s here. Like I said, leave!”

She edged her way off the ice and back to the shelter of the trees where she watched as Dahlgren’s car moved slowly among the shacks and parked next to his grandfather’s shanty, only about thirty yards from where she waited. She pulled a pair of night goggles out of her suit, watching as he entered the shanty carrying a bag of what looked like groceries. If he were expecting Rindsig, he’d be prepared to offer her food and drink.

Ten minutes later, Kendall saw a dark figure slip out of the trees on the opposite side of the cove. She called Burnham and told her to stay put. Without ice grippers on her boots, she’d be more of a hindrance than help. Kendall would let Ruby get in first and get comfortable with her lover before rushing them. The element of surprise would work in her favor. The shack’s only window faced out toward the lake so Dahlgren and Rindsig wouldn’t see her as she approached.

Kendall deliberated. If it were Rindsig in there with Dahlgren, she didn’t want to risk getting him killed. Ruby would certainly be armed. She’d had plenty of time to replace her father’s gun with another model. They weren’t going anywhere, and there was only one way out. Maybe she should wait it out. But then Kendall really didn’t think Ruby would hurt Dahlgren; after all she was so fixated on him she risked her freedom to come back to see him when she could have been long gone.

For what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes, Kendall stood watching the shanty from the shelter of the trees, her extremities getting colder by the minute. Then she moved forward until she could watch from behind the neighboring shanty, about ten yards from the lovers. When she moved away from the shelter of the other shack, the ice pummeled her face like needles. At least she had the goggles protecting her eyes. Walking, even with the grippers on her boots, became nearly impossible on the ice-topped snow. Kendall second-guessed herself once more, thinking maybe Rindsig
hadn’t
been able to get another gun. Her indecision overridden by the reality of the storm, she knew she couldn’t tolerate its force much longer. She moved to the side of shanty and banged on the door.

“Police!” she shouted. “Open the door.” She heard a rustling sound inside. Pulling clothes back on?

Kendall dodged back to the side of the other shanty.

“Ruby Rindsig,” she shouted. “Come out. Now!” Kendall leapt further back just as a blast of gunfire exploded through the door of Dahlgren’s shanty. Ruby had another gun.

“Ruby,” she yelled, “there’s nowhere to run. Toss the gun out and come out with your hands behind your head.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. Had she done the right thing? Or would she end up with another ugly bullet-scar? Even worse, Ruby could escape, leaving Kendall’s body behind, a lump frozen to the surface of the lake.

Jeremy Dahlgren emerged from the shattered doorway of the shack. Rindsig followed closely behind, holding a handgun aimed at his head.

“Ruby, please,” he whimpered, “don’t do this. It’s time to give up. I’ll be here for you, baby. Put the gun down.”

Alverson had been right; Dahlgren couldn’t see past his penis. Ruby Rindsig had total control over him. She kept the gun pointed at Jeremy’s head.

“I’m sorry, Jeremy. I can’t live in a cage.” She turned toward Kendall, flinching as the tiny splinters of ice hit her bare face. “Drop your gun or he gets a bullet in the brain.”

Jeremy’s face registered shock at her words. “Ruby, please. I love you.”

Suddenly, sirens screamed in the distance.

Panic filled Ruby’s eyes as the sound of the sirens drew closer. Then Jeremy Dahlgren lost his footing, dropping clumsily to his knees. He reached for Ruby as he went down and she slid alongside him. A shot rang out as she crumpled to the ice, landing on her hip. Kendall felt a bolt of fear before she realized Ruby’s gun had only gone off as she slid on the icy snow. No one was hurt—yet.

Ruby sat up and raised the gun, aiming at Kendall, who fired back at the girl just as her own footing went awry. Her shot missed its mark, hitting Ruby in the shoulder. Ruby’s gun flew out of her hand. Jeremy ran to her, and crouched at her side, putting pressure on her wound. He handed Kendall the gun as her father and her Uncle Al appeared next to them. She should have known they wouldn’t leave her, no matter what she’d told them.

It was clear Jim Halsrud had jumped back into police officer mode. He helped her cuff Rindsig and Dahlgren while her uncle called for an ambulance.

“Sorry, Kenny,” her father said. “I couldn’t leave you out here alone.”

Kendall looked down at Ruby who’d turned on the water works, probably to gain some sympathy. Jeremy, the fool, remained crouched next to her, whispering that she’d be all right. He’d stand by her.

“Dad, you should have left. I had the situation under control. You being here will have backlash on me. And Paula.”

Paula had inched out onto the lake after hearing shots and calling for backup.

“Show a little respect, Halsrud. He might have saved your sorry ass.”

Rindsig’s shoulder wound, for all its bleeding, had only required stitches and bandaging. Three hours after the showdown at the ice-shanty, she was transported back to the station from the hospital in cuffs and leg chains, her face sullen. She’d been arrested, read her rights, and hadn’t asked for a lawyer. Locked in an interview room with a bored expression, Ruby studied her fingernails as she waited. She’d dyed her red curls a dark, unflattering shade of brown and cropped them into a short, straight bob. Kendall watched her through the two-way glass, itching to start the questioning.

A celebratory mood reigned among the officers in the station. They had their kidnapper and possibly the person who’d murdered the Glaussons or at least acted as an accomplice. Schoenfuss entered the room without a word, parting the troops like the Red Sea. Without preamble, he ordered Kendall into his office and closed the door behind them.

“I’m not a happy man, Halsrud.”

She fought to contain a shiver shooting through her body. Her time under the boss’s radar had run out. Her only hope was that the capture of Philly’s kidnapper had lessened his anger.

“You’re on suspension.”

Apparently it hadn’t. She started to protest, but he interrupted her.

“Save it. I told you office duty only. You weren’t supposed to be working out of the station. As soon as your surveillance of the Dahlgren kid turned up Rindsig, you should have handed it over to the detective on duty. You disobeyed a direct order.”

“But—”

He raised a hand to quiet her. “Before you say another word, keep in mind that I could take your badge for involving a citizen. Your father and your uncle had no business anywhere near this collar. And you were out of your jurisdiction in Wissota.”

She opened her mouth to explain.

“I said I don’t want to hear it. You put lives in jeopardy while you approached a fucking ice-shack, for Christ’s sake! Didn’t it occur to you those things are made of cardboard and duct tape? A bullet could go through those walls like a cereal box. Consider yourself lucky you’re alive and standing. The fact that no one but Rindsig got hurt was a fluke.”’

Kendall left the station knowing he was right about most of it. It wouldn’t have been wise to point out to him how well the new shanties were built. Nevertheless, Rindsig could easily have sprayed bullets across all the walls of the shanty and Kendall wouldn’t be alive to be standing here feeling sorry for herself. Why couldn’t she just be grateful to be alive? Apparently, like Ruby, Kendall hadn’t been thinking straight. But Ruby’s obsession with Jeremy might have saved Kendall’s life. And Jeremy—professing his love even with a gun at his head—how sick was that?

Love. How many times had Kendall seen deadly results in the name of that emotion? It was no wonder men and women in law enforcement had such mucked up relationships. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how it would have gone down tonight if Nash had been with her. Together, they might have had the good sense to watch the shack and get Ruby Rindsig on her way out.

Kendall arrived back at the apartment feeling like she’d been gone for days. She put a frozen pizza in the oven and poured a glass of wine. It felt good to have her own place to come home to. Why had she fought it for so long? Had her mother’s obsession with appearances, the house in particular, jaded Kendall from desiring such things? It was time to let go of the past’s hold on her.