Stalked (42 page)

“What did you do?”

“Lauren told me to meet her at their lake house. The two of them were already going at it when I got there. Tanjy saw me pull up—she probably thought it was going to be Dan, you know? Tanjy looked like she was going to bolt, but Lauren hit her hard. Real hard. Dropped her like a bag of cement. So we put her in the trunk and took her out to the lake.”

“What about Maggie and Katrina?” Stride asked from the wall. “Were you the one who assaulted them?”

“Yeah, that was me.”

“Was that Lauren’s idea, too?”

“No, she didn’t know anything about it. Not until later.”

“So why did you rape them?” Stride asked.

“Why the hell not? After I did Tanjy, I realized what a rush it was. Hell, it was like fucking Serena in my head before I got to the real thing, you know?”

Stride wished that his aim on Hell’s Lake had been better, and this animal who called himself Blue Dog would already be dead.

“Plus, it was safe,” Blue Dog went on. “I knew all about the sex club from Sonia’s computer. I figured these alpha girls weren’t going to want the media dishing out the same treatment to them that Tanjy got. And I was right, too.”

“What about Eric Sorenson?” Teitscher asked.

“What about him?”

“Did you work on his computer?”

“No.”

“Did Tanjy tell him about you?”

“No.”

“Then how did he find you? How did he figure out that you raped Tanjy and Maggie?”

“He didn’t.”

Blue Dog’s words thudded like a bird against a clean window.

“What?”

“He didn’t know a thing about me.”

Teitscher and Stride stared at each other. Stride tried to make sense of his thoughts.

“Are you telling us you had nothing to do with Eric Sorenson’s murder?” Teitscher asked.

“I found out he was killed when I saw it on TV.”

“Do you know who did kill him?” Teitscher asked.

“I figured his wife popped him, like they said on the news,” Blue Dog said, laughing at Stride. “Maybe once she had some lovin‘ from me, her husband didn’t cut it anymore.”

Stride lashed out. “Eric was Maggie’s husband, and you raped her. Eric found out. He confronted you that night.”

“I didn’t know this Eric guy to spit on him,” Blue Dog insisted. “You don’t believe me? Check out my alibi.”

“What alibi?” Teitscher asked.

“I was with my manager pulling an all-nighter on a corporate system in Hermantown when that guy was killed. You ask him.”

“You already told us that Tanjy
knew
you raped her,” Stride said.

Blue Dog grinned. “Tanjy was wrong.”

“What?”

“Lauren told me when we were dumping the body. Tanjy thought somebody else did it. Funny, huh? She made a stupid fucking mistake, and that’s what got her killed.”

“Who did she think raped her?”

“Lauren never told me.”

Stride ran his hands through his hair. Blue Dog had turned everything upside down. Just when he thought the investigation was over, he realized that the questions that started everything hadn’t been answered yet.

Who killed Eric?

And why?

“Have you ever met a woman named Helen Danning?” Stride asked.

Blue Dog shook his head. “Never heard of her.”

“You ever come across a blog called ‘The Lady in Me’ on any of the computers you were pawing through?”

“No.”

“If you’re lying to us about any of this, I’ll have you back in Holman on the next flight.”

“It’s the truth,” Blue Dog said.

Stride gestured at Teitscher, and the two men headed for the door.

“You think he’s on the level about Eric?” Teitscher asked when they were alone in the corridor.

Stride wanted to say no, but he couldn’t lie to himself. “I don’t think he’d give us an alibi if it won’t hold up.”

“You know what that means,” Teitscher said.

“Maggie didn’t do it,” Stride insisted.

“Then who did?”

“Lauren killed Tanjy. Maybe she killed Eric, too.”

Teitscher shook his head. “That’s not going to fly. Lauren was in Washington that night. I checked.”

“So maybe Blue Dog
is
lying. Maggie beat the hell out of him. He may want her to take the fall for the murder.”

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Teitscher said. “Look, I don’t know if Maggie did it or not. I still think there’s a good chance she did, but she’s free and clear. We’re never going to bring charges against her. There’s enough reasonable doubt for Archie Gale to drive a truck through.”

“She’ll still have a cloud over her head if we don’t find out who really killed Eric,” Stride said.

“We all have clouds.”

“This guy says Tanjy made a mistake,” Stride said. “Eric and Tanjy thought someone else was responsible for the rapes. Whoever that was, he must have killed Eric.”

Teitscher shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense, Lieutenant. If Eric was wrong, why kill him? If I accuse you of a crime you
didn’t
commit, why the hell would you kill me over it?”

Stride knew that was true. He was missing something.

The two men looked up as a guard opened a door at the far end of the narrow hallway, and Max Guppo ran toward them. Guppo never ran, and by the time he reached them, he was sweating in large beads on his forehead, and his big chest was heaving up and down. He bent over and broke wind loudly, and both men involuntarily took a step backward.

“Son of a bitch, Guppo,” Teitscher complained.

Stride suppressed a smile and said, “What’s going on, Max?”

Guppo took several wheezing, labored breaths. He loosened his tie and tugged his belt up over his protruding stomach. “All hell is breaking loose.”

“Over what?”

“Another body,” Guppo told them. “We’ve got a body in Enger Park. Right where we found that girl ten years ago.”

It was déjà vu all over again. Stride couldn’t believe it.

The victim was placed exactly where they had found the anonymous black teenager a decade earlier. He had been over this ground so many times that he could pinpoint the growth in the trees lining the fairway and the number of footsteps it took to get here from the road. The body was on its back, arms and legs spread like a da Vinci drawing. She was in a valley that was invisible from the road and sheltered from the golfers walking the straightaway toward the green. The girl back then, who was found in August, who had haunted his dreams ever since, was found because of a doctor’s errant slice.

“Two cross-country skiers came across her,” Guppo said. They were calf-deep in snow, and Guppo was looking back at the slope that led to the highway as if wondering whether he would survive the climb. It was mid-afternoon. The snow was done, and the sun was back, but it couldn’t manage more than a weak shine.

Stride nodded. His lips were thin and cold. “Any idea how long she’s been here?”

“She’s frozen solid, so it won’t be easy to pin down,” Guppo said. “But one of the skiers said he followed this path two days ago, and there was no body.”

“He’s sure he was in the same place?”

Guppo nodded. “He said this is his favorite route.”

“Was she killed here?” Teitscher asked.

“No, not enough blood,” Guppo said.

Stride studied the victim, or what was left of her. Like the girl ten years ago, this newest body was missing its head and hands. On the part of the neck that remained intact, he could see ligature marks to suggest that she had been strangled. She was naked, and he could see bruising in the pelvic area. In those respects, the murder was a carbon copy of the earlier crime.

A few details were different, though. It was summer then and winter now. The original victim was black, and this woman was white. The girl back then was young, no more than seventeen, and it was easy to tell from the condition of the skin that this victim was older, probably in her thirties or forties.

“Don’t hold your breath on DNA this time,” Guppo said.

Stride nodded. He had a feeling the perp was too smart to leave his calling card again. “What else have we found?”

“Not a lot. Violet’s working the body for the M.E. She’s up in her truck now. We’re scouring the area, but like I say, I think the perp just dumped her here.”

“What about footprints? He had to get her down here.”

Guppo pointed at a narrow track of matted snow leading down the slope. “Yeah, looks like he dragged her. We’ve got blood spots and hair all along the route back to the road. I think he took a shovel and backfilled in the snow, though. Plus, we’ve had another inch or so in the last two days.”

“Same with tire tracks?”

“Nothing on the road.”

Teitscher looked up as he heard the thumping roar of a helicopter hovering over their heads. “Who the hell leaked this to the media? It’s a damn circus.”

“Don’t blame me,” Guppo snapped. “One of the skiers called his wife, and she happens to be a secretary at KBJR. They broke it first, and the others have piled on. We’ve got reporters from the Cities up here, too. They’re all smelling a serial killer. Everyone’s asking about the original Enger Park Girl case and whether there’s a connection.”

“More likely a copycat to throw us off the scent,” Teitscher said.

Guppo shrugged. “These guys are all talking like this is something out of the next John Sandford novel.”

“Well, we’re not ruling anything in or out,” Stride said. “It’s a long time between killings if we’re talking about the same perp, but you never know. If it’s a copycat, he’s just as bad.”

“Do we have any idea at all who this woman is?” Teitscher asked. “Are there any reports of missing persons in the region that fit the profile?”

“No likely candidates except for Lauren Erickson.”

Stride shook his head. “It’s not her. Too tall.”

He figured Lauren was somewhere at the bottom of Hell’s Lake, and they would find her in the spring.

His cell phone rang, and he took a few steps away into the deeper snow to answer it. He heard Maggie’s voice. “I’m watching the news,” she said. “They’ve got you on live TV, did you know that?”

“Great.”

“You’ve got something green on your front teeth.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Tell me they’ve got this wrong,” she said. “Tell me this isn’t a rerun of the Enger Park Girl.”

“It’s the same M.O., Mags. The scene is virtually identical.”

“Shit.”

Stride couldn’t help but think of standing on this same ground with Maggie ten years ago on that hot August night. They had only been together for a year then. Maggie was young and smart, coming out of her shell slowly, more like a kid than a woman.

“You talk to Blue Dog?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Did you kill him?”

“I wanted to.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He says he had nothing to do with Eric’s death,” Stride said.

“Do you believe him?”

“Unfortunately, I do. He has an alibi.”

“Meaning it’s back to me.”

“Come on, you’re off the hook, Mags. Even Abel doesn’t want to charge you.”

“Because they can’t convict me, or because I’m innocent?”

Stride was silent.

“I thought so,” Maggie said. “Look, that’s not good enough, boss, you know that. I can’t come back on the job if everyone still thinks I’m a murderer.”

“It’s not over, Mags.”

“No? Abel thinks I did it, but he can’t prove it. He’s not going to invest a lot of energy in solving the case.”

“Give me time.”

“I want back in,” Maggie insisted, impatience bubbling up in her voice. “I want to be with you on the scene right now. I deserve to be on that case.”

“I know.”

She sighed over the phone. “Look, I’m sorry, I know this isn’t your fault. You’ve got work to do. I’m going over to see Serena, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“She’s probably watching you on TV, too, so why don’t you moon the camera?”

“Goodbye, Mags.”

He hung up the phone and rejoined Guppo and Teitscher, who were standing stiffly a few feet apart from each other. There was no love lost between them. Guppo had been among the loudest to complain during Teitscher’s short tenure as lieutenant, and Teitscher knew it. It didn’t help that Guppo also had a long and close relationship with Stride.

“I want to review the original case file on the Enger Park Girl,” Stride said. “Who’s got it now?”

Teitscher blanched. “I think it’s in my desk.”

“What’s up with it?”

“What’s up? Nothing’s up. You know how it is with cold cases, Lieutenant. Every few months, you pull it out of the drawer and rifle through it to see if you get a new idea. It’s not like I’ve got the time to work a ten-year-old file.”

“Especially if the victim’s just a black teenager, huh?” Guppo asked.

“Now just one goddamned minute,” Teitscher exploded. “That is bullshit, and you know it.”

Stride held up his hands. “Both of you, knock it off. We’re not going to do this now.”

“This is
not
about black or white,” Teitscher insisted, jabbing his finger at Guppo. “This is about a case that’s
ice-cold
.”

“You’re right,” Stride said. “It’s a cold case, and I never said it wasn’t. Both of you drop it, and move on. Who was the last person to really touch the case?”

“Other than you and Maggie?” Guppo said. “It was Nicole.”

Stride looked at him in surprise. “Nicole?”

“Sure, when she came back after the shooting on the bridge, you gave her half a dozen cold cases rather than put her right back on the street. The Enger Park case was one of them.”

“I don’t recall seeing any of Nicole’s notes in the case file,” Teitscher complained.

“That’s a surprise?” Guppo said. “Nicole was always months behind in her paperwork.”

“Well, if she was working it, we should find out if she latched onto something we’ve missed,” Stride said. “Abel, I want you to go down and talk to her.”

Teitscher’s brow knitted into a maze of angry lines. “You’re shitting me.”

“No. Do it tomorrow. We need to move fast.”

“It was six years ago. What the hell is she going to remember?”

“You won’t know until you ask her.”