William Krueger - Copper River

“This one can’t be tracked?”

“Whenever I buy a cell phone for myself or my operatives, the first thing I do is disable the chip.”

“Thanks,” Cork said. He punched in the number for Captain Ed Larson’s office at the Aurora County Sheriff’s Department. “Ed, it’s Cork.”

“Where the hell are you?” Larson’s voice faded in and out over the phone, the connection tenuous.

“Best you don’t know, Ed. Jacoby’s put a price on my head.”

“I heard. I talked with Jo a little bit ago. You should call her. She’s worried sick.”

“I called her once and it turned out bad. I won’t call her again. If these guys know I’m in touch with her, I’m afraid they might try using her to get to me, understand?”

“Yeah. Look, I think you’ve got trouble here, too. We got a call last night from one of your neighbors. Someone was sneaking around your house. Dispatched a cruiser and the guy ran. Somebody thinking you came back to Aurora to hide, maybe?”

“That’s my guess. Jesus, these guys are everywhere.”

“How are you doing?”

“Hanging in there. Dina Willner’s with me, so I’ve got backup.”

“That’s good.”

“We’ve been talking things over, trying to figure our next move, but we’re working in the dark. Tell me what’s going on with the Jacoby murders.”

“We’ve had a couple of breaks. First off, we picked up some teenagers joyriding in a car they admitted stealing. It matches the description of the vehicle at Mercy Falls the night Eddie Jacoby was murdered. The kids claimed they took it from a small airfield near Biwabik where it had been parked for several days. Turned out to be a rental. Under the front seat, we found lip gloss manufactured in Argentina.”

“Gabriella Jacoby is from Argentina.”

“Bingo. We’re checking the prints against the ones she submitted when she applied for citizenship here. If they match, we may be able to prove she was in Minnesota when she claimed to be sailing on Lake Michigan with her brother Tony.”

“Who rented the vehicle?”

“It came from an agency at the Duluth airport three days before Jacoby was murdered. A phony ID and credit card were used, but the rental agent, a young woman apparently much impressed with Tony Salguero’s swarthy Latin American ways, identified him from a photo. Salguero used the same credit card to purchase a round-trip airline ticket from Chicago to Duluth.”

“He set it up ahead of time, flew out with Gabriella in his private plane; they killed Eddie and flew back in time to be on their boat next morning,” Cork said. “Probably planned to return the car when things settled down, only the kids got there first.”

“Everything points in that direction. We have motive-the insurance and inheritance money-and opportunity. And don’t forget we have Arlo Knuth, who’ll testify about the Spanish-speaking couple he saw at Mercy Falls the night Eddie was stabbed. We don’t have every nail in place yet, but we’re getting there, Cork.”

“What about Ben Jacoby’s murder?”

“Winnetka PD tells me they’ve got a shoe print. When Ben Jacoby was shot in his pool, you and Dina were covering the front of the estate. The only way for the killer to make a getaway was through the back gate down to the lakeshore. There was a heavy dew that morning, made the sand wet and compact. It held tracks. The only tracks on the beach that early in the morning came from a sport shoe. Fila, size ten and a half. Coincidentally, Salguero’s shoe size. Winnetka’s working on a warrant right now to search his place for a shoe that matches the prints.”

“All good news,” Cork said. “But still nothing that pins them solid. Look, Ed, I’d bet it was Salguero who did the actual killings. Gabriella has children, two young sons. That makes her vulnerable. What if Winnetka PD brought her in and sweated her. She might be inclined to roll over on Salguero in exchange for a deal that wouldn’t keep her away from her boys forever.”

“I’ll talk to them about it.”

“Thanks, Ed. All this is good to hear. If you need to get in touch with me, call Dina’s cell phone number.” He gave it to Larson and ended the call.

“Well?” she said.

He explained what he’d learned.

Dina slipped the phone back into her jacket pocket. “Even if they arrest Gabriella, Lou might not call off the hit. I’ve worked a lot of jobs for him over the years, and Lou’s one stubborn son of a bitch. No matter what the evidence, he might decide not to believe his darling daughter-in-law had a hand in killing his sons.” Dina yawned and stretched. “I need a shower. And a good cup of coffee. Where the hell is Ren? How long does it take to get a latte and get back here?”

“You know kids. They dawdle.”

Dina flipped on the light switch in the bathroom and glanced around. “As a matter of fact, I don’t know kids. They scare me. They’re like something I see at the zoo. And as long as they stay on their side of the bars, I do fine. Okay if I use your shower?”

Before Cork could answer, he heard the growl of the engine as the ATV bounced up the lane from the county road. “Speak of the devil.”

“Latte and a kolache, ” Dina said eagerly.

She went to the front door and opened it. Cork felt a cool draft of late morning air rush into the cabin.

The ATV stopped outside. Dina stepped back abruptly, and Ren stumbled past her looking as if he’d been chased by a monster. He spoke in gasps.

“He’s…he’s…dead.”

“Whoa,” Dina said. “Who’s dead?”

Ren’s eyes swung from Cork to Dina then back to Cork. They were wide and wet-looking. “Charlie’s…father.”

“How do you know?” Cork asked. He pushed himself into a sitting position.

“I saw him.”

Dina came around Ren so that she could look into his face, too. “Where?”

“At their trailer. I was just there. Somebody beat his head in.”

Cork swung his legs off the bunk, ignoring the pain of his wounds. “Where’s Charlie?”

“I don’t know. She wasn’t there.”

Cork stood up and limped to the boy. With some difficulty, he knelt and put his hands gently on Ren’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath. Okay, another. Now, tell me everything from the beginning.”

Ren told it all, from his stop at the Farber House to the red jellyfish on the wall of Charlie’s bedroom to the dead man lying on the floor with his head beat to mush.

“The baseball bat was right beside him,” Ren said, choking a little on the words. “It was Charlie’s bat. It was, like, the nicest present her dad ever gave her.”

“You’re sure he was dead, Ren?” Dina asked.

“His head…I could see his brains sticking out.” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would block the image.

Cork said, “We need to tell the police, Ren. And we need to call your mother. She should be with you. Okay?”

The boy nodded.

“Give me your cell phone, Dina. What’s her number at the clinic, Ren?”

Cork spoke with someone who told him Jewell was out on a call. Ren gave him her cell phone number and he tried that, but she was out of the service area. He handed the phone back to Dina.

“We shouldn’t wait,” she said.

“I know.”

“I’ll go with him,” Dina volunteered. “Would that be all right, Ren?”

He considered her a moment. “Okay.”

Cork said, “Is there a police department in Bodine?”

“Yeah. There’s the constable. Ned Hodder.”

Dina put her hand on Ren’s shoulder. “Let’s start with him.”

“Wait,” Cork said. “This is risky. You’re a stranger here. That’ll raise questions.”

Dina thought a moment. “What if I were a relative? Mind having an aunt Donna, Ren?”