William Krueger: Mercy Falls

He stood up and took his mug to the coffeepot on the counter.

“Okay,” he said, pouring himself a refill. “She was headed to Jacoby’s place. He has two residences. A townhouse near downtown Chicago and a home on Sheridan Avenue in Winnetka. Her note says she’ll be gone less than an hour. I’d say that eliminates the townhouse. During rush hour, it would take at least that long just to get there. So I’m betting it was the house on Sheridan.”

“The uniforms who talked to Phillip said she hadn’t been there.”

“Maybe Phillip lied.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, but it’s the only solid lead we have, so that’s where I’m starting.” He grabbed his yellow windbreaker from where he’d draped it over the chair back.

“What are you going to do?” Dina asked.

“Pound on the door, or on the kid, until I get some answers.”

When Cork pulled off Sheridan onto the private brick drive that led to Ben Jacoby’s palatial home, the sky along the horizon above Lake Michigan burned with a warm orange glow that was dawn. The trees of the estate, a mix of yews and Catawba and maples, were eerily quiet, and Cork, as he stepped from the Pathfinder, realized that there were no birds in them and wondered where they’d all gone.

Curtains were drawn across the windows. The panes reflected an empty sky. At the end of the drive, which circled a small fountain edged with dewy grass, Cork spotted the garage doors, three of them, each with a row of glass panes roughly at eye level. He walked to the doors, Dina a step behind him, and peered in. It was an area large enough to accommodate four vehicles. Currently it was full. There was a Mercedes, a Jaguar with a smashed front headlight, a Lincoln Navigator, and a blue Toyota Camry with Minnesota plates.

“She’s here.”

“And that’s Ben’s Mercedes,” Dina said.

He went back to the Pathfinder, opened the glove box, and took out his Smith amp; Wesson. 38 Police Special and a box of cartridges. He filled the cylinder and snapped it shut.

Dina watched him. “You’re not going in shooting.”

“If this isn’t a kidnapping, I don’t know what is.”

She put a hand on his arm. “Cork, what if she’s here because she wants to be?”

“If that were true, she would have called. She wouldn’t want Rose or the children to worry. Or me.”

He approached the front door under the portico and tried the knob. Locked. He stepped back, looked left and right, turned toward the south corner of the house.

“I’m going around in back, see if I can find an open door,” he said in a low voice.

“Why don’t we just ring the doorbell?”

“You wait here,” he said. “And don’t ring the doorbell. Not yet.”

He started across the lawn, the heavy dew soaking his shoes and the cuffs of his pants. He tried to move carefully, to keep his breathing steady while he battled fear and a mounting rage. Though his brain was fried from exhaustion and worry, he kept focused on the one thing he knew absolutely: Jo was somewhere inside this house, and she was not there because she wanted to be.

He turned the corner and lost sight of Dina. Trimmed bushes grew against the length of the house and Catawba branches reached above him. It seemed as though he’d entered a long, dim hallway that opened at the end onto the back lawn.

He’d gone less than halfway when shots rang out, two of them. Without thinking, Cork dove for the cover of the bushes and lay in the dirt, gripping his. 38. He scanned what he could see of the estate, which wasn’t much. In his mind, he replayed the sound of the shots. They’d come from ahead, from somewhere behind the house, out of his line of vision. He decided that they were probably not meant for him.

The quiet had returned immediately, pressing so heavily on Cork that he felt as if he were underwater. He forced himself to move and in a crouch went forward. At the back corner, he peered around the edge of the house. The yard was empty. He saw a pool, a small pool house, stairs that led up to a veranda. A black robe hung over the back of a lounge chair beside the pool.

He hugged the wall, edging his way toward the stairs. He finally pushed from the house and swung his revolver toward the veranda, which proved to be as empty as the yard. He looked at the pool, at the rose-colored stain spreading across the water. He crept nearer and bent over the edge. The body lay on the bottom, eyes closed, two dark plumes rising from somewhere underneath, near the middle of the back.

He didn’t hear her but felt her presence. He turned his head and there she was, gripping a white robe closed over her breast, her hair a tangle, her feet bare, her blue eyes wide with astonishment.

“Oh, Cork, no,” she whispered.

He was so happy to see her, he wanted to cry.

“Jo,” he said, “I came to bring you home.”

“Hey, Cork. Long time no see.”

Adam Gabriel closed the door and offered Cork his hand. He stood six feet tall and was slender, with curly blond hair and a serious look in his face.

“What are you doing here, Adam? I thought you were with Highland Park.”

They were in an interview room of the Winnetka Village Police.

“I’m also assigned to NORTAF. We float all over.”

“That’s right. I remember Boomer saying that.”

“Good old Boomer.” Gabriel allowed himself a brief smile, then sat down across the table from Cork.

“Good to see a familiar face,” Cork said.

“They’ve been rough on you?”

“Just doing their jobs. You’ve got yours, too. They send you in to play good cop?”

Gabriel gestured toward the Styrofoam cup that held coffee, which was cold now. “Want something besides that?”

“I’m fine.”

“You look like you could use sleep. I understand you drove all night.”

“A lot of ground between me and Jo to cover. I’d love to be with her right now.”

“She’s in good hands, Cork. With someone from SANE. Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner program.”

“I know what it is.”

“Sure.”

“How’s Lucille?”

“Back in school. Almost fifty and she’s finally finishing her degree. Never too late, huh?” He folded his hands on the table. “So this is what I understand. You came down here because Jo disappeared. You went to Jacoby’s because of the message on Rose’s phone. By the way, I didn’t know she’d moved back down here. Happy to hear she’s found a good man.”

“We all are.”

“So you and Willner head to Jacoby’s. You see Jo’s car in the garage, ring the bell-”

“We didn’t ring the bell.”

“Did you knock?”

“No. I tried the door.”

“Which was locked?”

“Yes.”

“So you started looking for another way in. You were on the south side of the house when you heard the shots and dove for cover in the shrubbery. Because you thought you were being shot at?”

“That’s right.”

He nodded in an understanding way. “Skittish. After that business on the reservation in Minnesota, it makes sense. How’s the ear?”

“Doesn’t bother me anymore. Stitches’ll be coming out pretty soon.”

“How long did you stay there in the shrubs?”

“Couple minutes.”

“No more shots?”

“No.”

“Then you continued to the backyard, which was empty.”

“Except for Jacoby on the bottom of the pool.”

“You saw no one leaving the scene?”

“No one.”

“You told the other detectives that you thought Jacoby was dead. You think about pulling him out, checking for a pulse?”

“No.”

Gabriel seemed a little troubled with that. “You know dead when you see it?”

“Jo came from the house at the same time. I was more concerned with her.”