Trespass (19 page)

Chapter 43

L
ast night before I met Jorge, I went to visit Carter. The nurses in the ICU were understanding and let me see him for a few minutes. One of them explained that Carter’s knife wound wasn’t life threatening, but he had received a blow on the head hard enough to cause serious bruising to his brain. They put him into a medically induced coma in order to prevent more swelling and give his brain and his lung time to heal. The next forty-eight hours would be critical.

My heart broke at the sight of him lying helpless in a hospital bed, tubes coming from his body, surrounded by machines whirring and beeping. I was having a difficult time wrestling with whether my pain was caused by a love I never left behind or guilt. A man who had been such a big part of my life had been seriously injured when I had been the intended target.

This morning I had made the trip to Lisa’s office with my wipers on timer, the steady drizzle making vision impossible without them. Lisa had come into her office today just for me. Once again, Lisa told me to gather my thoughts and decide where I’d like our discussion to begin while she left the room to make us some tea.

There was so much to choose from. Should I talk about what I had seen during my OBE and all its implications, my relationships with men, or how much the out-of-body experiences—imagined or real—affected my life?

Lisa handed me a mug of tea, and we sat in the green leather chairs by the window.

I quickly told her the details of everything that had happened since the last time we met.

“I don’t know what to do about what I saw last night,” I began. “I feel like I need to tell someone, the police, or TJ, but they aren’t going to believe me. It sounds so preposterous.”

She took a sip of her tea. “Gemma, is it possible, even if the out-of-body thing isn’t real, that somehow you suspected a relationship between the brother and sister? Some people are very sensitive to hidden agendas. It could have been something as small as a glance or an expression; the slightest body language can be revealing. Police are trained to pick up on these things, but in my experience some people just do it naturally. And with a thing like this, you might have repressed it because it was so inconceivable to you.”

“You’re right. It is hard to imagine, especially since Drucilla is an adult and Lucian only sixteen. I would think an older brother would be the sibling more likely to push his sister to have sex with him.”

“Just because the boy is younger, it doesn’t mean he didn’t initiate a sexual relationship with his sister. And girls have been known to initiate sex with a sibling.”

It didn’t matter who began the coupling. I found it disgusting. But Norman was still my main concern. “I can’t remember picking up on anything between them, but I don’t see them that often. If they’re really having sex, I’m sure they wouldn’t want anyone to know about it, right? Maybe Norman found out about them, and they killed him before he could tell anyone.”

Lisa considered this for a moment. “I suppose anything’s possible, Gemma. I think you should confide in TJ, though. After all, you hired her for just that purpose, to find out what happened to your friend.”

“TJ will find this as ridiculous as the police would. We’ve never discussed our personal lives. If I had told her about the sleep paralysis or the OBEs? She would have laughed or said, ‘What the fuck?’”

Lisa smiled. “She probably would have. She’s not an easy person to get to know. My own friendship with TJ evolved from a common goal: to find a man who was killing abused women. If you would feel better about it, I’ll join you when you talk to her.”

That was exactly what I had hoped. “Can you call her now? I’ll understand if you don’t have time to do it today.”

She looked at her watch. “I’ll make time. If she can come out here, we’ll order in lunch.”

Deli sandwiches, sodas, and chips were laid out on the conference room table when TJ walked into the room an hour later.

“What’s this,” she asked, “some kinda come-to-Jesus meeting?”

TJ had come out to Lisa’s office without being told the purpose of their meeting. Lisa only told her she wanted her there to talk to Gemma. She had offered to introduce the topic of what Gemma experienced in her OBE.

Lisa could tell TJ hadn’t had much sleep: her violet eyes looked faded, her caramel complexion sallow, and her usual snappy grin was missing. “Have a seat,” Lisa invited. “You look like you could use some food.” TJ grabbed one of the sandwiches and sat across from her, next to Gemma.

“How is Bill Denison doing?” Lisa asked.

“He died.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know when the service will be held?”

“Haven’t heard.” TJ attacked the sandwich.

TJ had not been easy to get to know, and if their friendship hadn’t been forced because of their common interest in finding why abused women were going missing, Lisa knew she and TJ wouldn’t be friends today. She hoped TJ could find some sympathy for Gemma.

They ate in silence until TJ asked, “Okay, somethin’s goin’ on. Wanna fill me in?”

“Gemma’s given me permission to be here,” Lisa said, “because what she has to tell you is something we’re working on in her sessions. It’s a rather controversial topic, and she felt I could help her explain it.”

Before she could elaborate, TJ interrupted. “Just get to it, okay?”

Lisa felt torn. They had to have this conversation, yet she could see TJ was stressed and resented being called out to Pewaukee. “All right. Gemma’s been coming to see me because she’s having a difficult time dealing with sleep paralysis episodes. Are you familiar with them?”

TJ made a face. “Not some of that woo-woo crap, is it?”

“No, it’s very real. In fact, I’ve experienced it myself.” Lisa explained the phenomenon of sleep paralysis and its connection to OBEs. She took time to talk about the differing opinions between the mental health community and the paranormals on the topic. She told TJ what Gemma had seen and pointed out that even if there hadn’t actually been an out-of-body experience, Gemma might well have picked up on a subtle communication between the siblings.

“I’ll let Gemma tell you more about it and how it relates to what you’re working on.” Lisa sat back in her chair.

Gemma told TJ about the episodes in which she felt like someone was holding her, then how they had evolved into what she believed to be out-of-body experiences. After she told TJ the detailed account of being in the Krause living room, her hands began to tremble. She recounted what happened the night with Jorge and what she had seen going on between Drucilla and Lucian in Drucilla’s bedroom.

When Gemma finished talking, TJ turned to her. “Crap, that would scare the bejeezus outta me. Shoulda’ told me about it.” She wiped her face with her hands. “Makes sense, though. Lucian and his sister, they’re too weird to live.” She stood and began to pace. “Gotta get those DNA results. If the intruders in the Jackson murder were related, we might have our murderers.”

“But how could we ever prove they had a reason to kill Norman?” Gemma asked.

“Have you checked out his work computer?”

“I haven’t had time. But I doubt if he would have anything personal in it. I have it with me at the hotel. I’ll look in it tonight.”

“Anybody else he would have confided in?”

“Not that I can think of. We’ve been over this before; Norman spent most of his free time on his writing.”

TJ frowned.

“I think he found out about Lucian and Drucilla having sex, and they killed him to keep him quiet,” Gemma said.

TJ hated to burst Gemma’s bubble. It seemed unlikely that Norman had found out about their sex life and even less likely they would have killed him because of it.

Chapter 44

C
raig Jackson had just backed his SUV out of the garage and stepped out to pull the door down when a dark figure approached him. In the light from the headlights, he recognized Donald Braun. He hadn’t seen Braun in years. They had avoided each other since the incident disbanded their swingers’ group. He wasn’t happy to see him now and wished he had taken time to get the garage door opener fixed so he could have avoided this confrontation.

“Man, you scared the crap out of me,” he complained.

“If you would return my calls, I wouldn’t have to hunt you down. We have to talk,” Braun said.

“Sorry, I’m on my way out.” Jackson, weary of funeral talk and visiting in-laws, needed to get out and had been headed for his favorite club. Braun could only be here to dredge up ancient history, a topic Craig was in no mood to rehash.

Braun grabbed his arm before he could pull the garage door down. “I know you’ve got another swinging group started. How fucking stupid are you?”

Craig tore his arm out of the other man’s grip. “Breaking up the original group wasn’t my idea, remember. Sondra and I missed the get-togethers. It’s none of your business what I do with my social life.”

“You call that depravity a social life?”

Craig sneered. “You’re calling it depraved now? You liked it well enough then.”

“Right. I
used to
like it. And look what I got out of it. It destroyed my marriage; Vicky isn’t the same woman any more. She’s been fucked up ever since those two romantic idiots killed each other.”

“Newsflash, buddy. Vicky was screwed up long before those two bought it.”

“I’d tell you to go to hell, but Vicky’s missing. She went up to the lake a few days ago and I haven’t heard from her or been able to get in touch with her since. One of the neighbors up there has a key to the place and checked for me; her car is there, but Vicky isn’t.”

Sondra’s death had brought back memories of the earlier deaths for Jackson and added a nagging fear to his grief. What was Braun insinuating? “She probably went somewhere with one of her friends.”

“Impossible. I checked our credit cards. She hasn’t used them since the night she left.”

If something had happened to Victoria too, what did it mean? Were they all in danger? Craig reached into his car and turned off the engine. “I need a drink.”

Braun followed him into the house.

After pouring the drinks, Craig asked, “So, why come to me with this?”

“You and I were friends once, right? And it sure looks like someone’s after all of us who were in the group back when Lilly and Art killed themselves.”

“I didn’t see you or your wife at Sondra’s funeral.”

“I was out of town,” Braun said.

Jackson drained his drink. “So what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know what to think. I reported her missing, but I’m not sure how much those yahoos up there will even do about it. They drive around and try to look important, maybe do a few drug arrests in the summer, but investigate a missing person? Not in their job description. They gave me some crap about adults having to be missing three days before they’ll do anything, so they haven’t done squat. The time’s up, so I’m going up there tomorrow and put some pressure on them.”

“But she’s from here. I think you need to call the Tosa cops.”

Braun gulped his whiskey. “Yeah. I have to do that.”

Neither of them vocalized their reluctance to have the swingers’ tragedy come to light again. The suicides weren’t sensationalized in the media back then, but these were different times. Now, in the twenty-first century, the media would not only glom onto it, they would name names and dramatize every gory detail.

“Do you really think what happened to Sondra is connected to what happened sixteen years ago?” Jackson asked.

“I do now. Vicky thought so, but I always told her she was imagining things. I should have taken her concerns seriously.”

“Do we need to be looking over our shoulders?” Fuck, every one of them who were in the group back then could be at risk. “Maybe it’s just the women someone has a beef with.”

“You tell yourself that, Craig. See if it lets you sleep tonight.”

“All right, all right. But who would start doing some freaking revenge murders after all this time? Why wait sixteen years?”

“I thought about that. It seems like it all started when Norman Teschler’s house blew up.”

“What would he have to do with it?”

“He’s our neighbor. Vicky used to have a thing for him.”

“So what? He wasn’t a regular member. He just came that one time.”

“Right, but he screwed every woman in our neighborhood, and women talk. He probably knew every sordid detail.”

Craig’s eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking someone blew the dude’s house up because he knew about the suicides? You’re crazy. It’s not like it wasn’t common knowledge.”

Braun shrugged. “What else could it be?”

“Could be there was something wrong with Teschler’s gas connection.”

“I’m wasting my time here.” Braun gulped the rest of his drink and stood to leave. “Keep your doors locked.”

In Pewaukee, where Lisa’s office was located on the south edge of Pewaukee Lake, the sun made a temporary appearance, peeking out from between large storm clouds. Lisa had gone home, leaving TJ and Gemma to lock up when they were finished talking.

TJ looked out at the marshy shore of Pewaukee Lake. “Guess we’re in for more freakin’ rain.” She, Lisa, and Gemma had gone over and over the implications of the Krause siblings’ sexual relationship. TJ, although intrigued, had no idea where to go with the new information. If it even was new information. She couldn’t deny having a healthy skepticism no matter how Lisa tried to support it with her shrink logic.

Gemma said, “Tell me how you met Lisa.”

TJ hadn’t expected that request. “Long story. We got together because we were the only two people who believed there was somethin’ suspicious about abused women goin’ missing.”

“If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine. I was just curious.”

TJ sat heavily in one of the chairs near the window. “Nah, it’s okay. It was just such a fucked-up time, you know?”

Gemma took a chair across from TJ, her gaze questioning.

“Lisa, me, and two of the guys whose wives went missing got together to try an’ find out what was goin’ on. One of the guys was a client of mine. Eric Schindler. He sat in jail for a long time for killing his wife. He got out when I found some new information. Got him out on a technicality, really. I knew he didn’t kill her and while I was lookin’ into his wife’s disappearance, I found out there were other women who’d gone missing.

“Lisa worked part time for the Women’s Center an’ found out through their records that the number of abused women gone missing was off the charts. Then she had a client that disappeared. Lisa went to the police, but they blew her off. I found out about it and talked her into gettin’ together to investigate on our own.”

Gemma asked, “Why wouldn’t the police do anything about it?”

“Nothin’ they could do ‘cause there wasn’t any evidence—no bodies. Said they had to look at each missin’ woman as a separate case.” TJ closed her eyes, remembering. “If they woulda done something then, lotta people might still be alive.”

“Like your child’s father?”

TJ didn’t remember sharing that information with Gemma, but it wouldn’t have been hard to put together. “Yeah. Him, for sure. The four of us even lived together for a while out at Eric’s place after we found out the killer was onto us. Lisa and Eric are still together. Jeff and me? Our thing didn’t end too well.”

TJ could see Gemma still had questions. But she had run out of answers, especially the answer to what had happened to the man who killed all those abused women. That one was off-limits. She stood to leave, signaling the conversation was over.

They left Lisa’s office, locked the door behind them, and headed for their cars. Parked on the opposite side of the street, TJ sat for a minute, her mind locked in the past, remembering Jeff Denison and what he had meant to her. Her heart ached for him as it had nearly every day since, and she still felt guilty that she hadn’t been there for him, hadn’t prevented the son-of-a-bitch from killing the sweetest man she’d ever known. She watched as Gemma started her car and drove off.

Her reverie ended abruptly. After Gemma pulled away, a car parked a few spaces behind her pulled out quickly, falling into place behind Gemma’s Murano. A coincidence? Unlikely, since TJ hadn’t noticed anyone getting into the car. Someone had already been in it, watching Gemma, and was following her. TJ forced the Mini into a hasty U-turn and fell into place behind them.

His shift had ended by the time Haymaker returned to the station defeated by the fact that no one he approached knew the name of the guy who had been shadowing Madison Chapman. The guy was a ghost. His days of hanging out at the deli ended when Chapman quit coming in. It was another dead end.

When a call came in from the front desk to tell him there was someone to see him, he barked, “I’m off, pass him on to someone else.” Then he quickly reconsidered and asked, “Who is it?”

The man who took the seat in front of his desk, although dressed in clothing that hadn’t come off the rack at Sears, looked like he’d had a bad day. His expensive raincoat was rumpled, his tie was askew, and Brian was pretty sure the direction of his hair wasn’t what his stylist had intended. He had a hard time making eye contact, and Brian was pretty sure he smelled alcohol on his breath.

“I need to report my wife missing.”

“And her name is?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. My name is Donald Braun, My wife’s name is Victoria.” He pulled out his wallet and handed him a business card.

Haymaker had interviewed Victoria Braun a few days after Teschler’s house exploded. The Brauns lived right next door to Teschler and had been out of town at the time. Brian’s discouragement vanished as he leaned forward and asked, “How long has she been missing?”