William Krueger: Tamarack County

They checked every branch off the road, most of which were narrow lanes that led to private cabins or small resorts, all of them closed for the winter. They found no sign of Evelyn, no indication at any of the buildings that she’d managed to make it that far and had tried to break in for shelter. They reached her car a few minutes behind the group who’d come from the south. That bunch had also arrived empty-handed. The chopper and plane had spotted nothing, and the dogs, once again, had picked up no scent. Gratz had walked his cadaver dog, a German shepherd named Violet, along the road a couple of miles in both directions, to no avail.

Dross’s next step was to send both groups off-trail into the woods. It was her last best effort at finding a woman who, if she was in the area, should already have been found.

They regrouped several hours later, cold, tired, hungry, and unsuccessful. Dross thanked them all, and told them to go back home. If she needed them again, she would let them know.

As he was getting ready to mount his Bearcat and return to where he’d parked his Land Rover and trailer ten miles north, Dross called to him, “Cork, would you mind sticking around?”

Dross said something to Deputy Azevedo, who nodded and headed toward his cruiser. She walked to where Cork stood waiting beside his Bearcat, eyeing her in the long slant of the late afternoon sun. She stood five-ten, and although her cold-weather outerwear didn’t show it, she was lean and muscular. The hair hidden by the hood of her parka was a dull auburn hue and cut to a length that fell just below her jawline. Her face was red from the daylong exposure to the bitter arctic air, and Cork knew she had to be every bit as bone-numb cold as he. Nearly fifteen years earlier, when he was sheriff of Tamarack County himself, he’d hired her as a deputy, a decision he’d never regretted.

Dross removed her goggles and blinked a moment at the sudden brilliance that seemed to have ambushed her eyes. “How well do you know Judge Carter?” she asked.

“Well enough not to like him at all. Why?”

“I’ve talked with Social Services. Without his wife at home, he’s pretty much a mess. He tried to cook himself dinner last night and nearly set the stove on fire. Luckily, your parish priest had come out to be with him or he might have burned the house down. Father Green agreed to stay with him again today. Apparently there’s nobody else willing to give him . . .” She searched for the word. “Comfort,” she finally settled on.

Although he’d pretty well lost all the feeling in his toes, Cork waited patiently for her to get to the point.

“We’ve asked the folks at WMRZ to keep broadcasting our request for anyone who might have information about Evelyn’s whereabouts to contact us. All the adjoining counties and the State Patrol have been notified to keep an eye out. I’ve talked myself blue with the Judge trying to find out if there’s somewhere Evelyn might have gone, someone she might have gone with, but it’s clear he doesn’t have a clue about her.” She shrugged. “It’s possible she’s just left him.”

“Most people who just leave someone drive somewhere. They don’t circle until they run out of gas.”

Dross nodded. “Some folks this morning suggested to me she might have decided on another way to leave the Judge.”

“Killed herself, you mean? Walked off into the woods and gave herself over to the cold? How well did you know Evelyn?”

“Almost not at all.”

“She and the Judge have been parishioners at St. Agnes as far back as I can remember. She’s devout. For devout Catholics, suicide is an unthinkable sin. Besides that, she’s a pretty strong woman. For reasons of her own, maybe that Catholic ethic again, she’s stuck it out with the Judge for a lifetime. Why suddenly decide to exit now? And if she did that, why didn’t she leave a trail the dogs could find?” Cork removed his goggles and looked at her steadily. “You don’t believe she killed herself.”

“No,” she said. “I’ve checked her list of medications. There’s nothing there that would have caused her significant disorientation. I’ve considered a stroke, always a possibility, but if that was the case, we should have found her body, or like you said, the dogs should have been able to pick up her trail. So, my best guess is that someone stopped, picked her up, and for whatever reason, hasn’t delivered her home or bothered yet to let anyone know where she is. I’m still hoping that might happen.”

She purposefully looked away from him, looked toward the sun, which was a fluorescent tangerine hanging just above the jagged line of the treetops to the west. The woods cast a long blue shadow across the snow toward the Old Babbitt Road. After half a minute, she turned her face again to Cork and came to the point. “There was a case in Tamarack County before you brought me into the sheriff’s department. A woman with car trouble picked up by a man who stopped to help, and then raped and murdered her. Charles Devine.”

“Ruth Wheeling was the victim,” Cork said. “Long time ago, and Devine’s still in prison. At least last I knew.”

“I’m just thinking that that kind of thing has happened here before.”

“So maybe again? I suppose.”

“I’m going to have my guys go over her vehicle for prints.”

“Worth a try,” Cork said. “But weather like this, business like that, a perp would be a fool not to wear gloves.”

She was quiet, and it was clear to him that she’d already considered this.

“So, have you checked out Devine yet?” he asked. “Is he still in the supermax at Oak Park Heights?”

“I told Azevedo to do that as soon as he gets back to the department.” She glanced at the sun again, her face a pale orange fire of reflection. “Evelyn Carter’s daughter is flying in.”

“Justine?”

She nodded, then dabbed a gloved finger against her nostrils, which were runny in the bitter cold. “She should be here in the morning.”

“What are you going to tell her?” he asked.

“The truth. That we’re doing our best.”

“But that you don’t really have a clue? Good luck with the reception you get on that one.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, misting the air in front of her face. She looked tired. Probably she hadn’t slept much the night before. “Any suggestions?”

“On what to tell Justine?”

“On anything.”

Cork studied the road, the powdered snowfall stamped hard by far more traffic than was natural in that season, the deep woods on both sides a maze of snowmobile tracks. “You’ve done everything out here I would have done. And your current thinking seems pretty reasonable to me. In your shoes, I’d seriously consider foul play.”

“Motive?”

“Maybe like Devine, just a sick mind and a crime of opportunity.”

“If that’s the case and her car’s clean, then we’re at a dead end.”

“Unless someone who listens to WMRZ saw something and gives you a call,” he offered.

“Folks who knew her and loved her, her family, they’re going to think there’s more I should be doing.” It wasn’t a plea for his sympathy, just a statement of fact.

“You got any idea what that might be?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Want my advice?”

She laughed, and that seemed to relax her a little. “Why do you think we’re standing here freezing our butts off?”

“Put Azevedo in charge for the night. Go home. Take a hot shower. Then meet me at the Four Seasons. I’ll stand you to a steak and some good scotch. We’ll relax a little, and then think about all this again.”

“Folks see me relaxing with Evelyn Carter still missing, what are they going to think?”