Page 15

Chapter 15

Floodlights shone down on Willa Stinson’s body as it lay on its side in the slush. She’d been dumped behind a huge pile of dirt and snow on the edge of Olaf Oland’s farm field half a mile away from the swollen Red River. Her naked body was tied at the ankles and wrists with Ethernet cable just like Dr. Drummond.

The difference in this killing was that instead of strangling her to death, the murderer had chosen to asphyxiate her. Her horror-filled face was clearly visible through the clear plastic bag tied over her head.

Brenna had seen her share of murders, some of them strangulations, but never had she seen the victim’s face frozen in such a frightening expression as Willa Stinson’s.

Having always been empathetic to others’ pain, Brenna could imagine the terror this woman had felt at slowly losing consciousness while her executioner stood by and watched.

“This man is...” Brenna couldn’t think of a word to describe the killer.

“...not a man at all,” Nick said. “He’s an animal to put a person through something so awful.”

Chief Burkholder stood beside the two on the edge of the embankment. “There were footprints from the road up to the body, but with the recent rain, the forensic team won’t have much to go on.”

Although she’d guess the other missing women were most likely dead, the actual evidence was much harder to stomach than Brenna had anticipated.

“Same M.O. with the bindings,” Nick noted. “Different choice of death.”

“Do you think he’s experimenting?” Brenna asked.

“Whatever he’s doing, he’s killing innocent people.” The chief jammed his hands into his pockets, a shiver jerking his shoulders beneath his winter coat. Although warm enough to melt the lingering snow, the temperature hadn’t risen above forty-five.

“What do we have?” Nick asked aloud. “We have a killer who likes to use Ethernet cable to bind his victims. So far, he’s used two different methods to kill them.”

“Could be more victims.” Chief Burkholder stared down at the dead woman. “We haven’t found Gomez or Carmichael, yet.”

Brenna pressed a gloved finger to her lips and then dropped it to her side. “Let’s hope we don’t find them like Stinson. He’s also not above a little arson to keep his identity a secret, and he likes flaunting how smart he is compared to me.”

“Don’t take it personally, Jensen,” the chief said.

Brenna couldn’t help but take it personally. The notes had come directly to her.

“A sociopath who likes variety in his killing…” Nick murmured.

“Yeah, a sociopath.” Brenna closed her eyes and pictured the book she’d read on serial killers. All had been sociopaths who had walked among society undetected. “A man like Ted Bundy who blends in with the crowd. Liked by his neighbors and a member of a church.” She opened her eyes and stared across at Nick. “An upstanding citizen by all outward appearances. Impossible to discern.”

“No.” Nick lifted one of her hands. “Not impossible. Even sociopaths are human. He’s killing smart women. He’s trying to prove he’s smarter than them.”

Brenna snorted. “And me.”

Nick squeezed her fingers through the gloves. “Humans make mistakes. We just have to dig beneath the surface of the evidence and find his mistake.”

The pressure on her hand gave her hope. “In the meantime, we keep watch over his next potential victim.”

As they walked away from the site, Brenna glanced farther up the road, the familiarity sinking in even in the dark. “My grandmother’s house is about half a mile north of here.”

“The same grandmother with the burning barn?” Nick asked quietly.

“Yeah.” The old barn was long gone, but Brenna could still smell the smoke in her memory.

“Does it bother you to go there?”

Nick’s words broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the farm field and the road running alongside. “No, not really,” she lied, glancing down at her feet before she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I visited my grandmother’s house after the fire with no problem. Seems the only time I recall the incident is during times of stress.”

“Like now.” He stared across at her, as if seeing through her fib.

“I suppose.” Brenna climbed into her Jeep. “Ready?”

“Do you mind swinging by your grandmother’s house?”

Brenna darted a look at Nick. “Why? Can’t see much in the dark.”

He adjusted his seatbelt. “Just curious.”

Brenna shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “We still have a few minutes to spare. Why not?”

As she drove up the road, Brenna could see glimpses of the levy, imagining the swollen waterway churning huge clumps of ice and muddy water in a thrust to move downstream. “I’m surprised the Mayor and FEMA haven’t ordered a mandatory evacuation yet.”

“Do they do that often?” Nick’s gaze drifted toward the levy.

“After the flood of ’97, they haven’t hesitated to clear the town when the river gets this high. It’s probably only a matter of time, and they’ll have the emergency management teams issuing the mandate.”

Nick stared out the side window. “That’ll make our jobs a lot harder.”

As Brenna neared the simple two-story white house, with the wide, welcoming front porch, she looked at it with a critical eye. It needed paint, and the corner of the porch sagged. “My grandfather farmed this land all his life.”

“Does your family still own it?”

“No.” A cold ache of regret rode hard in her stomach as she neared the driveway leading up to the house. “My father was my grandparents’ only child. He had no desire to go into farming, preferring a career in law enforcement.”

“Didn’t his father try to convince him to stay?”

“No. My grandfather didn’t want to force my father to do something he didn’t want. He'd tell us if you don’t love farming, you’ll never be good at it.”

“They sold?”

“When my grandfather was seventy-two, he and my grandmother sold the farm and moved to Florida.” She remembered standing with her mother and father on the porch of the empty house, waving goodbye.

“Are they still alive?”

“No.” She hadn’t realized how much she missed them until she stared out at the white clapboard house visible in the headlights. The new owner had built a cavernous metal barn to replace the old wooden one that had burned. It looked new and modern, a stark contrast to the century-old home.

“Who lived in those houses?” Nick pointed farther up the road, where lone security lights marked the driveways of other homes scattered along the road.

“My grandparents’ neighbors.” She smiled. “We’d stay out here for a couple of weeks in the summer and play with the kids who lived up the road.”

“Do you remember any of them?”

“Yes.” Brenna’s lips twisted. “One of them married my sister. My brother-in-law used to live in the house next door.”

“Were they farmers, too?” Nick glanced at her, a little smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Brenna liked talking with him about her past. His smooth baritone lulled her into recalling memories she’d thought long forgotten. “I think his father farmed, but he died in a freak farming accident when Stan was really young. His mother sold the land but kept the house. She was a hard woman. I guess having to raise a son alone can do that to you.” Her mouth pressed into a tight line.

“You don’t like Stan?”

She thought about lying, but figured Nick would see through her. “Not really.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” Brenna shrugged. “Maybe it’s because I think my sister could’ve done so much more with her life if she hadn’t married Stan. She could’ve had a career.”

“Maybe that wasn’t what she wanted.”

“I suppose.” She tapped her thumb against the steering wheel. “Alice is a beautiful woman who was always the best at everything in school. She could’ve done so much more.”

“But she chose to stay in Riverton and be a full-time wife and mom.”

“Yeah.” Now that she looked back, it all sounded silly. But Brenna had looked up to her sister and had had higher aspirations for her than Stan Klaus.

“And you resent Stan for that?”

“I suppose I resent him for asking her to marry him when she hadn’t had a chance to explore what the world had to offer.”

“Not everyone wants the same things.”

“I know.” Brenna shifted the SUV into reverse. “But that’s in the past.” She should have let go of her resentment a long time ago.

Nick’s cell phone rang on his hip. He unclipped it and answered the call. “Tarver.”

Brenna’s hand hovered over the gearshift. Had they found Gomez? She strained her ears to make sense of the voice she could barely hear, finally giving up.

“Do you need us to help?” Nick listened to more talking Brenna couldn’t understand, and then nodded. “We’ll see you in a few. If anything comes up, let me know.”

Nick flipped his phone shut. “That was Paul. He and Melissa are positioned outside the Riverton Bistro where Robin Rutledge works.”

Brenna nodded. “You know, it’s crazy, and I don’t wish anything bad to happen to Robin, but I’m hoping our killer tries something tonight.”

Nick stared straight ahead into the dark night. “Careful what you wish for.”

“Where’s our girl? It’s after two,” Nick said, pushing the light button on his watch for the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes. Patience had never been one of his strengths, and waiting for Robin Rutledge to get off work wasn’t the easiest task, considering he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in several days.

“She should be out any minute.” Brenna sat as far away from him as she could get in the tight confines of the sedan. Since they’d assumed the watch from Paul and Melissa two hours earlier, Brenna had avoided conversation.

The outside lights blinked out, and still Robin didn’t exit the front or side doors.

“Do you think she went out the back?” Nick tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Robin promised Paul earlier this evening that she’d come out the front door so they could watch everyone entering and leaving. And Adam, the plain-clothes policeman, is inside, so nothing should happen.”

“She should be out by now.” Nick clicked the overhead light out and opened the door. “I’m going to check. Stay here and don’t get out of the car.”

“Bull.” She opened her door. “I’m coming with you.”

Nick grinned in the darkness, glad she chose to stick with him. He’d rather keep an eye on her in case the killer was stalking them, using Robin as his decoy.

They circled the building in time to see a man wearing a white cook’s apron locking the back door with no sign of Robin.

All systems on instant alert, Nick hurried forward. “Sir!”

The man’s hand jerked, he dropped the keys and lifted his hands high like he was at gunpoint. “Wh-what do you want?”

Nick held his badge up. “FBI Agent Nick Tarver and Special Agent Jensen. Who are you?”

“Ray Svendsen.” His gaze darted from Nick to Brenna and back. “What do you want?”

Brenna stepped forward. “Sir, we’re looking for Robin Rutledge.”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he concentrated on Nick’s credentials in the light shining down over the back porch. When he was satisfied, his frown cleared. “You just missed her. She left with her boyfriend not more than two minutes ago.”

“What do you mean she left with her boyfriend?” Brenna asked.

“That guy that hangs around all the time. I don’t remember his name. She left without saying anything, and when I came out back, I saw her get into a truck. I recognized the guy because he used to come in a lot.”

“Do you know if the man was Jason Conlin?” Nick asked.

Svendsen nodded. “I’m pretty sure that’s the name Robin mentioned. Can’t keep up with the young people and their on-again-off-again boyfriends.” He turned to fit the key in the lock again. “All I know is I’m tired and want to get to bed.”

“Can you describe the vehicle?”

“Sure, it’s a late-model white Chevy truck with a lot of rust.”

Nick remembered seeing the truck in Jason’s apartment parking lot.

Brenna touched a hand to Nick’s arm. “What about Adam?”

Nick nodded. “Sir, do you mind if we take a quick look inside?”

The man’s hand stilled on the key in the lock, and he heaved a sigh. “Why did I know you were gonna say that?” He pulled the door open and waved them in. “Help yourself.”

“I’ll take the office and the ladies’ rooms,” Brenna said and dashed down the dark, narrow hallway.

Nick made a quick pass through the barroom and the men’s bathroom. Nothing.

“Nick!” Brenna called out from the hall. “Get an ambulance.”

“What have you got?” Nick pulled out his cell phone and pressed 911 as he crossed the barroom.

Brenna moved back to let him see into the bathroom, where Adam Weinheimer lay sprawled across the tile. “He’s unconscious. Looks like someone hit him on the back of the head.”

Nick dropped to his haunches and felt for a pulse as the phone connected. “This is Nick Tarver, FBI, working the Drummond murder. Send an ambulance to the Riverton Bistro. We have an officer down, unconscious, but breathing. And put out an APB for Jason Conlin. He’s driving a white Chevrolet pickup.”

“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Svendsen appeared in the doorway.

“Don’t you check all the rooms before you lock up?” Nick asked.

“The ladies’ room is Robin’s job. I assumed she did it.”

“She probably did.” Brenna stared down into Nick’s gaze, her lips tightening into a thin line. “We need to find Robin. Now.”

Adam stirred and groaned, his eyes opening. “What happened?”

When the cop tried to sit up, Nick placed a hand on his shoulder. “Lie still until the EMS gets here.”

“But the girl. Where is she?” He glanced from Brenna to Nick. “The guy who hit me got her, didn’t he?” He closed his eyes again and let his head sink back to the floor.

“Yeah.” Nick stood.

“Go.” Adam eased his eyes open. “Go find her.”

Nick frowned down at the cop. “You sure you don’t need us?”

“Hell, no.” He lifted a hand to his head and winced. “That girl needs you more.”

“We’re on it.” Nick turned to Mr. Svendsen.

“I’ll stay with him until the ambulance arrives,” the cook said before Nick could get the words out.

“Thanks.” Then he turned to Brenna. “Let’s go.”

Outside, they jogged back to his car and jumped in.

“Where do you think he took her?” Brenna buckled her seatbelt.

Nick turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. “I don’t think he’s stupid enough to take her to his place, and I’d bet he didn’t take her home.”

“What about the levy overlook Robin mentioned? It was Jason’s favorite place.”

“Yeah.” Nick shoved the shift into reverse and backed out of the parking lot. “You know where that is?”

“On the north end of town. Take a left at the next street.” As the car sped along the dark, wet streets, Brenna prayed they were headed in the right direction. “So, do you think Jason’s our man?” Brenna asked.

“I don’t know. The other kidnappings were directly from the victim’s homes, not work.”

“But we’ve had Robin’s home under surveillance,” Brenna said. “Maybe he’s frustrated and taking a different approach.”

“Or maybe he’s just a jealous lover.” Nick pressed harder on the gas pedal. Something about this abduction didn’t smell like the others.

“If he is our bad guy, we have to find Robin before something awful happens to her.” Brenna’s brows furrowed in the light from the dash. “The levy overlook is about a mile out the north end of town. We should be there in another two minutes.”

The headlights shone off the water accumulated in the ditches, giving the slushy road the appearance of a very wet, black island.

Brenna touched his arm. “Start slowing down. I’m not exactly sure where the turn-off is.”

The heat of her fingers on his arm radiated up his arm. “You know, Brenna, when this is all over...”

Her hand jerked away. “I know. You’ll go back to your job on the east coast, and I’ll be in either Bismarck or Minnesota.” She didn’t look at him, only at the road ahead.

His heart squeezed. After the time he’d spent in Riverton, he found he wasn’t as anxious to leave as when he’d arrived. The reason for his change of heart sat with her lip between her teeth in the seat next to him. “That wasn’t what I was going to say.”

“Nick, you don’t have to say anything. I’m a big girl. I know what we did the other night didn’t have any strings attached. You don’t have to worry about the local trying to cling to you when you leave.”

Nick ground his teeth, recognizing Brenna’s attempt to push him away, most likely to avoid being hurt, and it made him mad. While his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his foot pressed harder on the gas pedal. “Would you shut up and let me say what I want to say? I want to?—”

“Stop!”

Nick jammed his foot on the brake and the car hydroplaned, skidding sideways before straightening.

“Look. There in the ditch.” Brenna pointed ahead and then scrambled for her seatbelt.

Nick’s gaze followed Brenna’s direction. His headlights glanced off the white tailgate of a Chevrolet pickup that protruded from five feet of inky black water. All he could see was the truck bed and a corner of the cab sticking up above the water.

Nick felt the cool night air hit him as the passenger door to his car flung open. Brenna leaped out, shed her jacket and charged along the road until she was even with the truck. Before Nick could unbuckle his belt, Brenna disappeared down the embankment.

Nick yelled, “Wait, Brenna!”

She couldn’t hear him, or she wasn’t listening. Nick couldn’t tell which, he only knew he had to get to her before she hurt herself.

Brenna plunged into the frigid water up to her waist. She pushed deeper until she was up to her neck.

Nick yanked off his jacket and grabbed the police-issue flashlight from beneath the seat, thankful he’d thought of securing it from the police station his first day. He raced to the edge of the embankment, descending into the water after her.

When the icy water soaked through his jeans to his thighs, Nick’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to reach out and yank Brenna out of the water, but she was out of reach. “Brenna, get out!”

“I can’t. They’re probably still inside. We have to get them out!” Her teeth clattered, making her speech more like a chattering stutter. Her hands traced the top of the cab to the passenger door. Then she reached beneath the surface, grabbed the submerged door handle and yanked. Nothing happened. “I think it’s locked.”

Just beneath the surface of the water, a pale, white hand drifted into view against the passenger window.

Brenna screamed and staggered backward. “Oh, my God. Robin’s in there, and she’s still alive. Help me, Nick!”

She renewed her effort to pull the door open to no avail.

His breath coming in shallow gasps, Nick eased up behind Brenna and grabbed her shoulders. “Move.”

“No! We have to get her out.”

“That’s what I’m going to do.” Holding the flashlight for her to see, he climbed into the back of the pickup, Brenna right behind him. “Get back, Robin! I’m going to break the rear window.”

The hand drifted into sight again and then disappeared in the blackness of the water.

“Hurry!” Brenna urged.

Nick tapped the glass on the back window with the battery-laden end of the flashlight. Bunching his muscles, he reared back and slammed the flashlight down with all the force he could muster. The old glass shattered into jagged edges and water rushed in, filling the remainder of the cab.

“There she is!” Brenna cried.

Nick shone the flashlight into the cab.

Robin’s face skimmed the ceiling of the truck, her nose just above the water. “Help,” she gasped.

“We will, just hold on.” Using the flashlight to knock out the jagged edges of the window, Nick called out, “Robin, can you swim over to the back window?”

She shook her head and tried to talk. “Seatbelt...jammed.”

Handing the flashlight to Brenna, Nick took a deep breath and pushed through the window. A sharp edge tore down his right side through his shirt to the skin, but Nick ignored the pain and moved along the back of the seat to Robin. The cold water numbed his skin. He fought the debilitating tremors, focusing on helping Robin. Unable to see anything in the inky darkness, he groped around until he felt the curve of Robin’s shoulder. Then he pushed up to grab a gulp of air at the ceiling.

“Help me. I’m so c-cold.” Robin’s voice was weak. Her hand reached out, but she couldn’t curl her fingers to grasp him.

With his mouth in the air pocket he said, “Hang on.” His hand followed the seatbelt crossing her chest to her hip where the buckle held her in place. Pressing with all his might, he worked to release the latch, but the buckle refused to give.

Then he remembered the pocketknife he always carried. Coming up for another breath of air, he shoved stiffening fingers into his pocket and pulled the pocketknife out. In the muscle-numbing cold, he almost dropped it. After several attempts he managed to open the blade. With a sawing motion, he cut through the thick strap until the final thread gave way.

Robin drifted up in the water, her arms moving in a slow, pathetic attempt to swim out.

With the chill setting into him, Nick dragged in another breath and dove below the surface to grab Robin beneath the shoulders. He pulled her over the top of him and shoved her through the rear window into Brenna’s waiting arms.

Back at the air pocket, he gulped another breath before he turned to Jason. The young man was slumped over the steering wheel. He’d been underwater for who knew how long without the benefit of the air pocket Robin had used to survive. It took several attempts to free his body and push him through the rear window, but Nick managed.

Brenna stood at the far corner of the truck bed with Robin in her arms, trying to keep her warm. “I’ll need your help to get her back to the car. I think she’s in shock.”

Nick felt for Jason’s pulse, but between the frigid water and the lack of oxygen, he hadn’t stood a chance. Nick pulled him to the high corner of the truck bed. With a quick glance at Brenna and Robin, whose lips were a startling shade of purple, he dropped back into the freezing water. “Can you shove her over the tailgate into my arms?”

“Yeah. I think I can.”

Brenna stood and draped Robin over the edge of the tailgate then pushed her over into Nick’s arms. Then she scrambled down into the water beside him and took the woman’s legs. Together, they managed to get her out of the water, into the back seat of Nick’s rental car and covered her with their jackets.

While Nick cranked up the heater, Brenna placed the emergency call. As the car's interior heated, Robin drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Robin, can you hear me?” Brenna sat on the edge of the seat rubbing her hands over Robin’s.

Robin moaned, and her eyes drifted open. “Agent Jensen?”

“Yes, it’s me, Brenna.”

“Jason...did he hurt the officer?” The young woman’s hand tapped against Brenna’s arm.

“He’ll be okay.” Nick leaned into the back seat and draped his leather jacket over Robin. “What happened?”

“Truck smashed into...” Her head dropped against the backseat as if it were too hard to hold it up.

“Yes, the truck smashed into the ditch,” Brenna said.

“No. Different truck. Ran us off...” Her voice faded and Nick thought she’d passed out again. But Robin’s eyes opened, and she said in a little above a whisper, “A truck ran us off the road.”