Relative Malice (22 page)

37

Consciousness spiked Travis Jordan’s mind long enough to make him aware he lay in a hospital bad. Too bad. He’d have preferred to be dead.

When he felt the cop’s bullet hit his chest, he’d been sure it was all over. It didn’t matter. He’d done what he needed to do—killed the bitch who’d sold him to men who used him as a sex object. He’d had no childhood. The few times he had a chance to sneak to the windows, he’d seen other kids laughing, walking to school, arguing with their parents. Over time, he became aware he was the one who was different. The others led normal lives, free of pain, torture, and humiliation.

Before she left him, his girlfriend Jen had begged him to forgive his mother, to consider she may have been forced to give him up or been promised he’d have a good home. But that wasn’t what the men told Travis. He’d believed everything they said—he’d never questioned anything until he was too old to be of use to them and tossed out like so much garbage.

It had been too late to try to understand his mother’s motives. Hate won out over forgiveness. She hadn’t deserved a chance to explain, to lie to him.

Surrounded by machines and beginning to feel the pain of the gunshot wound, he longed for Jen, the only woman he’d ever loved, the one he’d turned away when the blinding rage overcame him. Wishing for her was futile; she’d have nothing to do with him now, a man who’d murdered an entire family.

I need you Jen.
He slid back into oblivion, hoping he’d never awaken.

38

Friday

Brynn had Kendall’s computer set up along with the two Macs, when she noticed an email coming in. Kendall didn’t use the email account on her laptop very often, and Brynn couldn’t help but notice it was from someone in the Milwaukee PD. She tried Kendall’s cell phone and got voice mail. Kendall was still in Stillwater. Maybe she should open the email and see if it was important. It was from a Detective Conlin.

Kendall,

This isn’t anything urgent, so I’m just sending it to you in an email. If you have any further questions, give me a call. We interviewed Brittany Markowicz again. She told us there had been rumors suggesting another girl from EC took advantage of the virgin email solicitation. The girl’s name is Ruby something or other. Not too many Rubys around, so she shouldn’t be too hard to find if you need to locate her.

Richard Conlin

Why did the name Ruby sound familiar? Brynn hadn’t heard much about the virgin emails, but remembered at one time Kendall thought they might have something to do with the Glausson case. She finished her computer search, the name Ruby still tweaking at her memory. It finally came to her. The psychic fair—the day she did Chelsea Glausson’s reading—she’d taken people’s names on a waiting list. One of them was a Ruby. Brynn couldn’t recollect if she’d done a reading for her.

She’d been busy that day, and thought her unique appearance had given her an edge over the other psychics, Reiki healers, aura interpreters, and tarot readers. Her waiting list had been booked for the entire day. She’d asked the people to leave full names, but not everyone had.

She still had the list around somewhere; she’d kept it for follow-up contacts she’d never gotten around to doing. Brynn hated any form of marketing. It turned up still tucked into a bag with the cards and other things she’d taken with her to the fair and never unpacked. Ruby’s name was second from the bottom. Brynn knew she hadn’t done a reading for her, there had been too many to fit in one day, and Ruby’s name wasn’t checked off.

Her last name wasn’t very legible, but with the help of the phone book, she finally figured out it had to be Rindsig. There were only three listings in the book for that name. One had two names, Carol and Jeffrey, so it probably wasn’t that one. The other two just had initials, not first names. She called them both and established neither was the girl she was looking for.

It occurred to her Ruby might only have a cell phone, making it harder to find her number. She returned to her keyboard and suddenly remembered Kendall talking about Ruby; she was a student at UWEC. Brynn knew she shouldn’t hack in, but Kendall might need the information. The student roster gave up the number. She wasn’t sure what possessed her, but she punched in Ruby’s number. After six rings, a woman answered and confirmed she was Ruby Rindsig.

“This is Callandra, the psychic interpreter. You signed up for a card reading with me at the psychic fair,” Brynn said. “I’m calling to let you know I have a special running now. For December, private readings are half off.”

What had she done? Brynn held her breath waiting for Ruby’s answer. When she dialed the number, she’d had no intention of making her an offer for a discounted reading. It was a cool move, though. Maybe she could find out something for Kendall.

“When can you do it?”

Brynn’s heart rate accelerated. “When do you want one?”

“Today.”

Her mouth went dry. She told herself she could do this. Rindsig probably had nothing to do with anything. Kendall could cross her off the list of things she had to follow up on. “All right. How about one o’clock?” That would give Brynn enough time to get ready.

“I’ll give you my address.”

“You don’t understand. I do the readings in my apartment.”

“I can’t get out. Can you come here?”

Brynn hesitated. She really wanted to do this for Kendall. “All right. What is it?”

Brynn had just gotten out the phone book to call a cab, when her phone rang.

“Hi. It’s me, Ryan.”

“Aren’t you in school today?”

“No. There’s a teacher’s conference or something. I’ve been thinking. There’s another ACT test in a few weeks for kids that missed the first one. I picked up a study guide and wondered if you’d help me get ready for it?”

“Why didn’t you take it?”

“Uh, I’ll tell you about that later.”

Brynn hadn’t expected to hear from him again, yet here he was, asking for her help. “I guess I could. But I have to leave now.”

“Where you going?”

She remembered he already knew she did readings as Callandra. “I’m going out to do a reading for someone.”

“Cool. Do you want a ride?”

At thirteen, when her mother took off and left her alone with the old man, Ruby quickly learned how to use her womanhood to manipulate him. Never certain if the guy was really her father, she convinced herself he was merely a joke foisted on her by her whore of a mother. Edward Rindsig ignored Ruby for the most part, but came sneaking into her bedroom the nights he drank, which began on Friday after he left work and ended when he passed out on Sunday night.

Years of alcohol abuse had left him with cirrhosis of the liver and erectile dysfunction, a term Ruby didn’t understand until much later, but the condition enabled her to keep her virginity intact. His abuse hadn’t included penetration. When the old man’s cirrhosis got worse, he left her alone, and they exchanged places. Ruby delighted in making his life miserable.

She hated her life. By the time she was fifteen, her father was living on a monthly disability check that barely covered the rent on the piece of shit trailer they lived in. Even though she hated it, Ruby pushed herself to excel in school, recognizing the only way she’d get the hell out of the trailer would be through her education. Her grades rose, but money remained a problem. Money ruled everything. Without it, you were nothing; with it, life offered all kinds of possibilities.

No task was too small or too demeaning. Ruby did everything from babysitting to cleaning houses in order to inflate her bank account. She needed to save enough to pay for college. Her dream to work on Wall Street, where she’d learn to make her money work for her, drove her until she had more than seven thousand dollars saved, not nearly enough. By seventeen, she’d acquired the necessary skills to get a part-time job doing basic accounting for small businesses. Her bank account grew with her increasing business acumen when she picked the brains of a man whose children she babysat. An investment counselor, Ruby paid him special attention when he drove her back to the trailer late at night.

She thought little of her looks until she realized beautiful people were more apt to realize their dreams. She bought clothes at an upscale resale store, purchased a pair of contact lenses, and started experimenting with her hair and makeup. Transformed, she was satisfied she had one more weapon in her arsenal for achieving her goal—her looks.

Unfortunately, Ruby hadn’t foreseen what would ultimately be the biggest hurdle to achieving her goals. She fell in love with Jeremy Dahgren.

After Brynn’s call, Ruby closed the phone, her mind whirling. She had to figure out how to use the little twit to her advantage. She’d seen her with Detective Halsrud, knew they lived in the same building. The albino had to be up to something; otherwise, why would she have been using the university’s computers when she wasn’t a student? She’d seen Brynn there more than once, as recently as a few days ago. If she was a freaking hacker, she could get anything.

It was Ruby’s own fault, she’d gotten greedy. So stupid, now that she had Jeremy and a secure nest egg. Her father was dead, and Sharky, her other stumbling block, was out of the way. Now she might have to remove another. And get rid of that screaming brat, too. How could she have known it would be so hard to sell a kid?

Ryan’s mouth dropped open when Brynn got in the car, resplendent in her silky, white wig, makeup, and white dress. He gaped. “Who are you?”

“This is how I do my work.”

He said, “Man. You should look like that all the time.”

Brynn scowled. He must think she looked like a freak the rest of the time. She’d been told her scant hair and pale complexion made her look like a martian.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I like how you look either way, okay?”

They rode in silence until they neared the address she’d given him. He slowed down in front of a shabby, spottily populated trailer park, its narrow lanes buried under a foot of snow with deep ruts where a few vehicles had managed passage.

“You sure this is it?”

“Yeah. She said it was way in back and off to the right.”

He parked at the curb. “This car won’t make it in there. How are you gonna get in?”

She pulled a pair of rubber snow boots out of one of the bags she carried. “I’ve got boots.”

“So how long do these things take?”

Brynn pulled on the boots. “Depends. They’re all different.”

“Do you want me to wait?”

“Sure.” She couldn’t figure out why he was being so nice to her. But she liked it. “I’m giving her a discount, so I’ll keep it on the short side. Thanks for waiting. I’ll be out in thirty minutes, forty tops.”

Brynn plowed through the snow, uncertain she was doing the right thing. What could she really find out by doing a reading? She’d just do what she told Ryan; keep it short. Maybe they could stop somewhere for a burger on the way back.

The girl who opened the door had wild, red hair and didn’t appear to be much older than Brynn. The minute the door closed behind her, Brynn felt uneasy. The trailer smelled bad and there was very little heat. A weird setting for a reading. Why couldn’t Ruby have just come to her place? Forgoing small talk, Brynn took a seat in a built-in breakfast nook, and brought out her cards. Ruby wasn’t acting all eager and friendly like people usually did when they had a reading.

Brynn had Ruby shuffle the cards and lay down the first row of four representing her past. Nervous, she’d forgotten to ask what Ruby wanted to know about.

“These cards represent your past,” Brynn explained. It wasn’t anything good. The girl must have had a hard life. A dark man, in the midst of two danger cards, sevens. “There’s a man in your past; he was mean to you.” She watched Ruby for a reaction. Rindsig didn’t flinch, but Brynn noticed her mouth tighten. The cards were right.

It wasn’t until the final row that Brynn became certain she never should have messed with something that should have been police business. The fourth row, like the two before it, held four warning cards. Was Ruby in danger?
Am I?

Brynn pretended to be studying the cards while she formulated a lie to tell Ruby about what she saw in them. As she was about to tell Ruby she had a bright future, she heard a baby crying.

It was the last thing she heard.

When Brynn came to she was in a chair with her hands tied behind her and her legs bound to the chair legs. Her cheeks stung where Ruby had slapped her to wake her up. She felt a sore spot on her head throbbing in time with her rapid heartbeat.

Ruby’s face twisted menacingly amidst a cloud of red hair. “Okay, tell me what that big cop knows.”

“How would I know anything about the cops?”

“Don’t play dumb. I know you two are tight. And I saw you working the computers at school.”

“I only use those because I can’t have my own. I’m on probation.”

Ruby scoffed. “You, on probation? Yeah, right.”

“I’m a hacker. They caught me.”

Ruby’s brow wrinkled. “Do they know about me?”

Confused, Brynn didn’t answer. The police already had the guy that killed the Glaussons. What did this girl want to know? And why? Was she the accomplice Kendall was looking for? She remembered the baby crying. If it was the Glausson baby, Brynn was dead meat. Ruby would never let her out of the trailer alive.

She turned her head to glance around the room.

“Look at
me,
you little witch. What do they know?”

39

Driving home from Stillwater, Kendall neared Eau Claire, her mind on Nash. She’d gotten a call from Shari Nashlund. Nash was doing well, and she’d be taking him home soon with the aid of a pair of crutches. Shari even offered to pick up Kendall and give her a ride home with them if she didn’t feel up to driving. Kendall made a decision to back off and not go back to the hospital. She didn’t need any more drama in her life; Nash was back with his wife and there was nothing she could do about it.

The short text-message she’d gotten from Agent Kahn that morning reported Travis Jordan was still unconscious; it might be days before anyone could interview him, if ever, his prognosis still critical.

When her phone rang, she checked the screen. Ryan Nashlund. That was odd. She pulled over and clicked the phone on.

“Detective Halsrud, this is Ryan Nashlund. I’m with Brynn—or I was with her. I’m kinda worried.”

“Why?”

“She had this appointment to do fortune-telling, you know? I gave her a ride over here and told her I’d wait till she was done. She said she’d be back out pretty quick and after she was in there an hour, I went and knocked. No one answered. I figured you’d know what to do.”

What the hell?
“She went to someone’s house to do a reading?”

“Yeah. She said she’d keep it short.’

“Where are you now?”

“I’m still there. I couldn’t drive in, so I left my car on the street. The place isn’t plowed out.”

It had been days since the snowstorm. “Where is this place?”

“It’s a trailer park, the one north of town on the back road that comes out by Shopko.”

Kendall recalled it was the trailer park where she’d gone looking for Ruby Rindsig before finding out the girl lived with three other students in a duplex near the university. She’d talked to Ruby’s father there. Crap. Brynn and Ruby? Was it possible someone else in the trailer park was having a reading? Seemed like too big a coincidence; something wasn’t right.

“I’m on my way,” Kendall told Ryan. “Wait for me in your car. I’m about fifteen minutes from you. Maybe she’ll be out by then. If she is, call me again.”

Her concern surged to fear as she drove. Ruby Rindsig. Kendall had a bad feeling about her from the first day she’d met her at the Glausson house with Jeremy Dahlgren. Deciding to proceed with the utmost caution, she called Alverson and told him what was happening. “It may be nothing, but I’m having a hard time putting anything together that doesn’t leave a bad taste in my mouth.”

“Want us to meet you there?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m still running at half-mast. Get there as soon as you can.”

“We can be there in about twenty minutes.”

Ruby’s head felt like it was going to explode. She’d ruined everything because she snatched that damn kid. She could have had it all, but she’d fucked up. Now what? The cops knew too much.

She locked the door to the room holding Philly and Brynn. She had to get out of town fast, but what about her beloved Jeremy? Her heart sank.

Then she realized she might not be able to have the man she loved, but she could still salvage her other plans. Before Jeremy she’d had everything arranged. The car and the money waited for her. Simple. She’d start over somewhere else, get the hell out of here and never look back.

When Kendall arrived at the trailer park, Ryan’s car sat deserted on the street next to the entrance. Why hadn’t he waited for her? Inside the trailer park, the foot of snow remaining from the storm had drifted in spots to more than three feet. The lane into the park held a mass of deep ruts where a few ambitious 4-wheel drive vehicles had moved in and out. She decided to walk in rather than chance ending up with her car stuck inside the park.

Kendall followed the ruts to the back lane. They ended where it branched right toward Rindsig’s trailer. Except for what must have been Brynn and Ryan’s footprints, the snow had not been disturbed by foot traffic. She was fighting her way through the snow when she saw it—curls of smoke coming from the edges of a window in the back of the trailer. She kept moving, an ugly premonition of what she’d find creeping through her head.

The other trailers in the lane appeared deserted and there wasn’t enough smoke to be seen from a distance. Kendall dialed 911 as she trudged through a drift of snow as high as her crotch, her tender abdomen complaining about the exertion. She spotted Ryan in front of the trailer, slamming a tire iron against the door. As she approached, he stood back, panting. His young face twisted with anxiety as he took another futile swing at the door.

When he saw Kendall, he gasped, “I can’t—it won’t budge.”

There had to be a deadbolt on the inside of the door. She scanned the trailer. The windows were too high and too tiny to attempt climbing in through them. Fire terrified Kendall, but she had to keep a clear head. She put her hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Stand back, Ryan.” Kendall pulled out her gun and screamed. “Brynn, can you hear me? If you can, move away from the door.”

There was no response. Kendall couldn’t blast the door open without being sure no one was near it. Kicking it in would be an option, but she was too damn weak. They had to get in before the fire escalated. At least the damn door opened inward. There was no time to worry about her painful midsection or show Ryan how it was done. She had to attempt kicking it in.

“Ryan, I’m going to try kicking it in. Stand behind me and I’ll brace myself against you.”

When they’d assumed the best stance, Kendall kicked at the door. Nothing happened. Two more tries and it finally cracked. One more, and she’d torn it from the deadbolt holding it in place. Like the door, her insides felt torn from their moorings, but she couldn’t wait for backup or worry about her pain; Brynn’s life depended on her. Kendall had to overcome her fear of fire and go into the trailer to get her out.

Warning Ryan to stay put, she rushed inside. The smoke, coming from somewhere in the rear, had begun to fill the trailer. Her eyes smarted, and began watering as she entered an open kitchen and living area. Twelve playing cards were spread out on a small kitchen table in rows of four, the rest of the deck scattered on the floor. Brynn had to be somewhere inside.

Kendall pulled the top of her turtleneck over her nose and turned left into a narrow corridor leading from the kitchen to a room at the opposite end of the trailer. Its door was closed, smoke seeping from its cracks pervaded the hallway. She hoped she wouldn’t have to open it and placed a hand on it cautiously, pulling back as she felt the intensity of the heat. Coughing, she turned back to a room off the hallway that was locked on the outside with a keyless deadbolt that looked new. The door was barely warm to the touch.

Kendall quickly turned the lock, fear electrifying every nerve in her body. Inside the room, Brynn, hands tied behind her, lay on the floor in an overturned chair. Her legs were free, kicking at the latch of a large wire cage meant for a dog. A small child sat inside crying, curly hair in greasy tendrils. She looked nothing like the bright, sunny child Kendall had seen in the digital photos. But Kendall recognized her immediately despite the squalid conditions and her filthy clothing—Philly Glausson.

“Brynn, stop, I’m here! I’ll get the baby out.” Her words caused another fit of coughing. The smoke had thickened; Kendall had to get them all out—fast.

Brynn turned toward Kendall, revealing a ball of white material stuffed in her mouth, her face streaked with tears and makeup. Kendall lifted her up off the floor, pulled out the gag, and freed her hands. When she was sure the girl could walk, she pushed her toward the door and yelled, “Go!”

Philly’s crying turned to screams as Kendall, her heart pounding and lungs bursting with smoke, worked the fasteners on the filthy cage. Her fingers fumbled from the heat and her fear, but she finally got it open. The baby crawled away from her and cowered in the far corner, coughing. As the air became impossible to breathe, Kendall’s nostrils filled with smoke that travelled instantly to her lungs despite her shallow breaths and the shirt covering her nose. There was no time to cajole the frightened child. Or panic. Kendall reached into the crate and dragged the baby out.

She ran out of the trailer with the shrieking child and joined Brynn and Ryan as the sound of sirens filled the smoky air. Kendall took off her coat and wrapped Philly in it, holding her close to the warmth of her own body. Ryan covered Kendall with his, and the three of them huddled together as the fire department and the paramedics fought their way through the snow. The EMTs, first to arrive, wrapped them in blankets and insisted Brynn and Kendall go to a hospital to be checked out, along with Philly Glausson.

Before long, the trailer park filled with fire trucks and what looked like every cop from Eau Claire and Chippewa. Kendall’s adrenaline high was fading, all she wanted was to go home and go to bed. She scanned the crowd for Gray Glausson. The first thing she’d done after the EMT’s looked them over was let him know she’d found his niece. Then she’d put out an APB on Ruby Rindsig.

She spotted Glausson coming toward her. England, elegant in a cobalt blue coat with a dark, faux-mink hood, daintily tripped through the snow at his side. Knowing it would be only temporary, Kendall took Philly from the arms of a paramedic and handed her to Gray. His eyes glistened as he held the crying child. Kendall had to break the news that he wouldn’t be able to take the baby home with him. She’d already been reminded that until the fire was out, the fire department was in charge of the scene, and they insisted the child be taken to the hospital.

“She’s upset, but they think she’s okay,” Kendall said, dreading what she had to tell him. “They’ll have to take her to a hospital to be examined, and probably keep her there overnight. It’s also procedure in a case like this for the child to be held in custody until all the legal questions get sorted out. I’ve done everything I can to keep that from happening. The paramedics will let you ride along to the hospital, and I arranged for a social worker I know to meet you there.”

Gray started to protest, but Kendall held up a hand to stop him. “While they’re examining her, go home and get your copy of Chelsea’s will. Since she awards you custody of her children, and you’re the only surviving relative, it’ll make it easier to cut through the red tape.”

England started at the comment about family services. “They’d take her away from him? After all she’s been through?” She stepped protectively toward Philly, who suddenly stopped crying. Philly twisted away from Gray’s arms and reached out to England. Kendall hadn’t thought the woman had a maternal bone in her body, but when she took the child in her arms, Philly clung to her. Astonished, Kendall realized after a moment it had nothing to do with maternal instincts—it was the perfume. England wore the same Joy perfume she’d seen on Chelsea Glausson’s dresser. Its odor made Kendall nauseous; her mother had worn the sweet, lily-of-the-valley scent, which still reminded her of things she preferred to leave forgotten. But for Philly Glausson, the perfume’s aroma had become a bridge to her mother.

“England,” Gray said, “you ride with her in the ambulance. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

Alverson appeared at Kendall’s side. “I heard what you told them. Are you sure you can deliver?”

“I called Mary Ann Prusinski. She’ll take care of it.” Kendall knew if anyone could help, it would be Mary Ann, a 30-year veteran of family services.

Ignoring Alverson’s continuing protests, Kendall left for the hospital with Brynn and Ryan.

After they were examined at the hospital, Kendall dropped Brynn and Ryan off on her way to the station. She had to convince Schoenfuss to put her back on duty. Sleep would have to wait.

Gray called to say that except for a bad case of diaper rash, Philly had been deemed in good health and hadn’t been mistreated. She didn’t appear to be suffering the after-effects of sedation, but they’d taken blood samples to be sure and were going to keep her overnight for observation. The girl still clung to England, who’d been encouraging the child to sleep. The social worker had advised Gray to hire a family practice attorney. He’d wasted no time hiring the best one in the area. The man was already attempting to find a judge willing to hold an emergency custody hearing so Philly could go home with Gray and England when she was released from the hospital.

Shoenfuss cornered Kendall as soon as she finished the call. “Hanging out there on your own again, Halsrud?”

He didn’t give her a chance to speak. “My office, now.”

Hoping to explain before he exploded, Kendall started talking the minute the door closed behind her. She told him how she’d happened to be at the trailer park after Ruby set fire to the trailer, leaving Brynn and Philly to die in the flames.

He grunted. “So you’re trying to tell me you don’t go looking for these things, they just call out to you. You’re supposed to be on sick leave.”

“I told you—I was on my way back from Stillwater, and I only went over there because a friend of Brynn’s was worried about her.” Kendall didn’t pause to let him argue. “I want to work this case, sir. I have to be the one to interview Jeremy Dahlgren and the others who know Rindsig. I’m the only one who knows all the players.”

“You’re supposed to be recuperating. I can’t have you going against doctor’s orders, Halsrud.”

“He said five days, and there are only two left. My only restrictions are no heavy lifting or long trips. I can do the interviews and desk duty for a few days. There’ll be reports and calls to be made, too. I’d be busy.”

He paused for a moment, studying the wall behind her. “How’s the baby? No harm done?”

“Not unless you include losing her entire family.” He hadn’t said anything about desk-duty. She took the omission as agreement.

He grunted again. “Have you got anything connecting Rindsig to Travis Jordan?”

“Not yet. He’ll be tried for the murders, but we don’t have anything linking him to either Rindsig or Gerald Fostvedt. Either of them or both could have been accomplices. And if not, we need to figure out how Rindsig ended up with the Glausson child.”

Schoenfuss fidgeted with a file folder. “You can work the case, but from the station only. The department won’t be liable if you pull your stitches or something chasing leads. Any running around looking for this Rindsig woman will be delegated to the other officers. Understood?”

Kendall kept her expression emotionless, trying to hide her pleasure. She’d gotten what she wanted. “Yes, sir, understood.”

As she turned to leave, he said, “Nice collar on Jordan.”