Waking Nightmare (49 page)
“I don’t see how.” Larsen’s voice was shaky. “The fire at my home in Minnesota started because of frayed wiring in the attic. At least that’s what the police said after the fire department had investigated.”
“Do you happen to recall the name of the chief of police there?” When Larsen shook her head, Abbie smiled. “Doesn’t matter. I can track him down. I’d like you to tell me what happened that night.” When the woman closed her eyes, Abbie felt a tug of guilt. That first fire had cost the woman her parents.
And the cost of the fire a few weeks ago had been equally devastating.
Slowly, laboriously, Abbie elicited the details from Larsen. How she’d awakened to find the hallway filled with smoke. Flames visible beneath her parents’ door. The staircase engulfed in fire. How only the quick thinking of a neighbor had saved Karen, with a ladder the man had propped up to her window.
It occurred to Abbie then that Larsen had been fortunate twice in her escape. But her escape from the second fire was most likely not due to luck, but to design. The UNSUB had meant for her to get away, although perhaps not as quickly as she had. He would have wanted her terrorized as the flames got closer. Perhaps reaching the woman on the bed before she freed herself.
After more than an hour of questioning, Larsen looked wrung out. “I have to get to work soon.” Consulting the slim purple and gold watch on her wrist, she grimaced. “The clinic is clear across town, and I’m not even dressed yet.”
Abbie rose. “I realize this has been hard. But I appreciate your help. Have you remembered anything else about the night of your attack?”
Larsen hesitated, before shaking her head firmly, getting up to lead Abbie to the door. “No. Sorry.”
But that slight pause had Abbie’s instincts sharpening. She stopped inside the door, facing the woman. “It might seem insignificant to you. Maybe even not worth mentioning. But I’m interested in any detail you remembered, Karen. Regardless of how small.”
“It’s just . . .” Larsen crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m sure it’s meaningless.” At Abbie’s encouraging smile, she plowed on. “But you asked before whether I’d told anyone about the fire that killed my parents. And I’ve only told one person here, so I didn’t give it much thought. But your question got me thinking . . .” She halted, shook her head. “Like I say, it’s really nothing. But I did check back with Paula, my friend. She said she hadn’t told anyone what I said about the fire except for her boyfriend.”
“Her boyfriend?”
“I don’t even know the guy’s name. Paula’s always real coy about it. I think he’s married or something. I just found it sort of odd she’d mention it to him.” She gave a strained smile. “But then I’m no expert about conversational topics between lovers.”
Ryne checked the cell before answering it, feeling a quick clutch in his stomach when he saw the incoming number. “Abbie.”
“I finished with Larsen and wanted to update you before taking personal time.” She gave him a quick succinct run down of her conversation. “Did Dixon tell you that he knew about the fire in Larsen’s background?”
“I don’t think so. But it goes to figure. He’d have gotten as much information as possible from his girlfriend before ever bringing Larsen to my attention.”
“If I have time yet this afternoon, I’m going to follow up with some phone calls to Stratton, Minnesota.” He could hear the sounds of traffic in the distance. Abbie was on the road. “I’d like to talk to the officer who responded to the scene of the first Larsen fire.”
“I have a few questions to run by you.” Conscious of the occupants at desks around him, Ryne kept his tone impassive as he reported Dwayne Carsons’s dings on domestic assault and Holden’s sealed juvie record. “Given the unlikelihood that we have an UNSUB traveling fifteen hundred miles to commit these rapes, what are we looking for here?”
“The relationship between the TTX supplier and the perp,” she said immediately.
His muscles untensed a notch as the familiar back-and-forth exchange began. Whatever their differences, he could rely on Abbie to concentrate on the investigation.
“I started thinking about that at the debriefing this morning. About the origin of that relationship. Even if the perp doesn’t let the supplier know what he’s doing, the supplier recognizes the capabilities of the drug and can make certain presumptions. It takes a degree of trust, don’t you think? So I’m guessing there is a long-standing connection between the two. This UNSUB is enacting the torture and rapes because of serious abuse in his background. That kind of abuse doesn’t lend itself to the establishment of casual friendships.”
“Why couldn’t it be someone he happened across who could be of use to him, like Juarez?”
“If I had to speculate, I’d guess it isn’t. This guy is careful not to be identified. I think he’d have gotten the biggest supply he could get his hands on and then made sure the supplier disappeared for good. He knows too much. Juarez was just a patsy.”
Ryne scrubbed one hand over his face. Holden and Carsons were a start, but if a Ketrum employee were the supplier, none of the ten on the team was above suspicion. They’d be in a position to get their hands on the drug, as well as falsifying any records necessary to cover up the loss.
“Okay. I’ll follow up on these two. If I strike out, we’ll have to check the other eight members of the Ketrum TTX team.”
“I look forward to your update tomorrow morning.”
From her impersonal tone, she could have been talking to Cantrell or Holmes. There was no hint of the fury she’d faced him with that morning. Nor any remnant of the intimacy that had developed between them. An intimacy she’d declared dead earlier.
An unfamiliar clutch of nerves tightened in his gut. “Listen, Abbie . . .”
“You were right this morning.”
Her words silenced him. “You had to talk to Callie. I’d have made the same decision.”
It was the last thing he expected her to say. The last thing he wanted to hear. His throat went tight, as recognition of his mistake slammed home. “I should have let you know I was bringing her in.”
“Yes, you should have.”
He took a breath, looked around, not really seeing his surroundings. Dammit, he’d played it safe. By the book. How could that be a screwup?
Because it meant he’d underestimated Abbie. Badly. And she’d made it pretty clear what that was going to cost him.
His palms went damp. “Listen . . .”
“I’m stopping to pick Callie up now. I’ll talk to you later.”
The call disconnected. It took several long moments before Ryne put his cell away, mentally calling himself seven kinds of a fool. Damn, how could a decision that had seemed so right only hours ago make him feel like such a shit now? This was exactly why he’d always steered clear of relationships. They were full of minefields. The least misstep and they blew up in your face.
“Robel, call for you on line three,” Marcy called.
But it took another moment for Ryne to reach for the phone. And more effort than it should have to shift his focus to the caller.
“Detective Robel?” The woman’s voice was breathy, excited. “This is Cyn Paulus. I called back just as soon as I heard your message. I didn’t get it until today because I was away from home a few days on a buying trip. I have this little shop, you see, and I sell all sorts of—”
Ruthlessly, Ryne cut through the woman’s rambling. “Thanks for calling back. I have a question about a name I ran across on your blog. A former classmate of yours. Trevor Holden.”
“Why, what’s he done?”
Ignoring her question, he asked one of his own. “What can you tell me about him?”
“Weeell . . .” There was a pout in the drawn-out word. “I didn’t know him that well. We didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But I wanted to invite all the classmates, and he did graduate with us, even if he was only around a couple years or so.”
Patience thinning, Ryne asked, “Why is that?”
“He was one of those delinquents from the State Training School.” Ryne felt a flare of excitement at her words. “None of them showed up for the reunion, of course, which was just as well. But I told my girlfriend, I have to at least invite them, just to be fair. . . .”
He shifted to a more comfortable position. Something told him that this conversation was going to take a while. “Can you tell me what you remember about Holden in particular?”
“He was sort of creepy, I remember that. Had a way of looking at girls like he was stripping us naked in his mind, you know what I mean?”
Something in Ryne went still. “Schools are rumor mills, right? Did you ever hear what he was sent to State for?”
“If I did, I don’t recall. We just sort of steered clear of the staties. Sorry, that’s what we called the State School residents. And it’s not like any of them wanted to be friends with us. They all sort of hung together.”
“So you’d have no idea where Holden is now. What he’s doing.”
“Oh, I heard some talk at the reunion.” The woman gave an audible sniff. “Have a hard time believing any of it. One guy, Danny Sorenson, says Holden attended the same junior college as his cousin. Said they were in a lot of the same classes. He even tried telling us his cousin claims Holden is working for some sort of drug company.”
Satisfaction surged. “Any idea where? Or for what company?”
“No, like I said, no one believes it. Danny said it’s somewhere out West. Most of us figure the most likely place to find him out there is Yuma Prison.”
Ryne probed further, until he was convinced he’d learned all the woman knew. About to end the conversation, he had a second thought. “You wouldn’t happen to have a picture of Holden, would you? Something in a high school yearbook maybe?”
“Sure, he’s probably in there. Most of the staties didn’t get senior pictures, of course, but our principal had the high school yearbook staff take pictures to be sure they were included in the annuals.”
“Could you find that picture and fax it to me?” Ryne gave her his fax number.
“Maybe,” she responded coyly. “If you tell me what this is all about. Is Holden in some sort of trouble? I’ll bet he is. Are you going to arrest him?”
Ryne rubbed one temple, to alleviate the throb that had suddenly appeared there. He reached for diplomacy, found it harder than usual to summon. “I’m just following a lead. I’m not at liberty to divulge any information, Ms. Paulus. But I can tell you your help could be vital to an ongoing investigation here.”
Her voice perked up. “Vital?”
“Absolutely, ma’am,” he said soberly, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. Some clown had thrown several pencils up to remain stuck in the soft tiles. Probably while having a conversation much like this one.
“Well, you can be sure I’ll do anything I can to help. I’ll get on it right away.”
Given the enthusiasm lacing her tone, he had no doubt she’d do just that. Recalling his earlier conversation with Abbie, he added, “Could you also send a photo of any of Holden’s buddies?”
“I’m not sure I remember who he hung out with. Like I said, we didn’t—”
“Run in the same circles. Right. But maybe one of your friends will help jog your memory.”
“Maybe.” She sounded dubious. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your assistance.” Looking up, Ryne noted Captain Brown heading toward his desk. “If you can send them as soon as possible, that will be a big help.”
He disconnected the call as Brown halted next to him, looked up inquiringly.
“I just got off the phone with Commander Dixon,” the man said without preamble. “He’s going to be in my office in ten minutes and wants a recap on the case.”
Jesus. Ryne just barely restrained an audible groan. Could this day get any worse? “All right. I’ll run off my latest investigation report.”
Brown’s broad freckled face looked grim. “Better come prepared with more than that. He’s on a tear, Ryne. He’s talking about replacing you as lead detective on this case.”
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