Relative Malice (20 page)

Kendall was dressed and ready to face the world by the time Nash came back to the room carrying a tray of breakfast selections from the hotel’s buffet

“Hey. Where’s that tired-looking chick I came in with?”

She scrunched up her face. “Don’t make me laugh; it hurts!”

“Sorry. You look great.”

He’d noticed the makeup. “How bad are the roads?” she asked.

“Depends where you’re going. The interstate’s plowed and in decent shape. Back roads are a different story. The courthouse is snowed in and they’re working on the downtown streets. I haven’t gotten through to anyone in the courthouse yet, but it’s still early. I’ve been meaning to ask you; why the big rush to talk to the case worker?”

Kendall picked up a coffee and bagel. “I felt like there was something I was missing. The only Glausson we didn’t know everything about was Chelsea. I talked to her friend Betty Ruffalo again. It turns out there was a lot more in Chelsea’s past than anyone had told us. Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was six, and after that she was in and out of fosters. The last one might have been abusive, and she turned to the streets. Ended up hooking and on heroin.”

He frowned. “Awfully long ago for there to be a tie to the murders. There weren’t any drug connections with the family, right?”

How could she explain her intuition about this? She couldn’t reveal her own closet of skeletons. “I don’t think there’s a drug connection. The tox screens were negative on all of the Glaussons. I think Chelsea had a baby when she was a teenager, one she didn’t tell anyone about. Her friend Betty Ruffalo told me Chelsea had hinted about it.”

“How could that be connected?”

“I’m not sure yet. But think about it—she gave up a child—now someone’s taken hers. Seems like quite the coincidence, doesn’t it? I took your suggestion and had Brynn do a reading. She said there were strong indications that Philly was alive. There were cards that represented two different babies. I thought it could have meant Philly and the baby Chelsea had when she was sixteen.” She didn’t add that Brynn had said both babies were girls.

“Now you’re believing in all that hoo-ha?” he asked.

“Not really, but it got me thinking. What if she had a baby back then and sold it to a broker?”

“How would that get her and her whole family killed?”

She had to run it by him. “What if Travis Jordan is the baby Chelsea gave up?”

“I think the anesthetic muddled your brain.”

Kendall wanted to pursue the discussion, but realized he had a point about the anesthetic. She was having a hard time concentrating. And if the memories she was having weren’t part of a dream, then whatever happened the night before had put her into erotic overload—with the man who got her shot.

Nash stood and took out his phone. “I’m not letting you go off on a wild goose chase in your condition. I read your instructions from the hospital—you can’t drive for twenty-four hours. Let’s see how things go with the hearing. If it’s cancelled, and you’re still up for it later, we’ll visit DHHS.”

34

When Nash left for the courthouse to find out if there was any news of the hearing, Kendall collapsed onto the bed, waiting for a second pain pill to revive her. When she closed her eyes, a scene ran through her mind, she and Nash, kissing like there was no tomorrow. It couldn’t have been a damn dream; she would have forgotten it by now. Suddenly, it all came back to her, as vivid as a soap opera. She couldn’t even blame him for taking advantage of her condition; she’d been the one throwing herself at him. At least he hadn’t laughed and pushed her away. But the guy was married. And she didn’t even like him. Or did she? Obviously, she’d liked him well enough last night.

It seemed like she’d barely drifted off when she heard Nash come back in.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve been better, but the nap helped.” She started to get up.

“Stay where you are. The judge assigned to Jordan’s hearing can’t get out of his condo complex. It might not be a go today. I’m going to call the courthouse again at one and see what they have to say.”

Kendall couldn’t shake the sexual tension she felt. She watched Nash take off his jacket and boots, then put his gun on the bureau, admiring his wide back and tight butt. A ravenous monster named Libido sat in the corner of the room, beckoning to her.

Nash, however, didn’t appear unsettled. He flopped down on the other bed and picked up the remote. After a minute or two of channel surfing, he turned it off.

“You awake?” he asked.

“Yes. Just resting.”

“You want to talk about last night?”

Her heart started pounding. “No.”

“Maybe you don’t remember anything.” He turned toward her. “I think you do; something’s weird today. And I don’t mean anything to do with the case.”

Kendall kept her eyes closed. She’d thought she wanted him to bring it up, but now that he had, she didn’t feel ready to face it. She whispered, “I remember most of it.”

He came over to her and sat on the side of her bed. “I’m sorry. I feel like I took advantage of you while you were still under the influence of the drug reaction.” He kissed her cheek. “You were so darn cute, though.”

Was he making fun of her? No one could describe her as cute. And her behavior the night before had to have been from those pain pills. What was that stuff?

“Hey, look at me.”

She opened her eyes. “Apology accepted. Now you can forget it happened.” She turned away from him.

“Did I say I wanted to forget about it?”

Kendall reminded herself this was the man she’d despised for the past year. “Why wouldn’t you? You’re married, and I’m not your type.” Crap. She sounded like a whiny teenager.

He gently turned her toward him. “Type? Are you crazy?” He stood up and started pacing, his dark eyes troubled. “I guess I’d better tell you this. Shari’s filing for a divorce. She’s not happy about me doing cop work again. When I left the job I thought it would make things better between us. I did it to protect my marriage, and I let everyone at work have a field day speculating why I quit. I told you my life was fucked up.”

That explained it—Nash wasn’t really attracted to her—he’d been reacting to his wife leaving him. Kendall didn’t know what to say. Her pulse still racing, she said, “I’m sorry about your marriage.” Feeble, but she had little experience with relationships and wasn’t all that sure she was sorry.

“I feel like an asshole for dragging you into my messed-up life,” he said.

Sitting on her bed again, he reached for her hands and took them in his. She snatched them away.

“What? Did I hurt you?” he asked.

“No. It’s just . . . I hate my hands. They’re like . . . cowboy hands or something.”

She felt like an idiot. He was trying to have a serious discussion, and she was acting like a girl about the size of her hands.

His face screwed up. “You’re kidding, right? You have a
hand
thing?” He took her hands in his again, studied them, and kissed each palm. “The first time I noticed your hands, you know what I thought?”

When she didn’t answer, he said, “I thought, wow! I’d love to have those hands grabbing my ass while I—”

Kendall pulled a hand away and covered his mouth, fighting not to laugh.

“What’s the matter, can’t take a compliment?”

“Compliment? That was a porn comment.”

“Come on,” he said. “You know there’s a buzz between us.”

Her sudden need for him hurt as much as the post-surgical pain, frightening her with its intensity. He bent down to kiss her. His kiss was gentle, nothing like the night before. Kendall felt herself losing control, she wanted to drown in him, pull him close to her and never let him go.

When the kissing became urgent, he backed away and grinned. “See? It wasn’t just the happy juice.”

After a short nap, Kendall insisted she had to get up and make some calls, but Nash grabbed her phone. “I’ll make them for you and tell everyone what happened. You need more rest before we go to the courthouse. Make me a list.”

Later, Kendall wakened and looked at the clock. It was after one. She got out of bed, feeling a lot better. Nearly able to stand straight, she definitely felt steadier than she’d been earlier. When she came out of the bathroom, Nash had returned.

“You’re looking better.”

“Yeah, I feel better. Tell me what you found out.”

“Brynn said she’d start looking for dirt on Jordan right away. And speaking of Brynn, did you know Ryan met her?”

“No, she didn’t say anything about it.”

“Shari told me he went there looking for me yesterday afternoon after they got back. Seems like he’s fascinated with her computer searches. Supposedly they hit it off, and if you can believe this, she helped him with his homework.

“You don’t sound particularly happy about it,” Kendall said. “I don’t think Brynn would be a bad influence, do you?”

He snorted. “You’ve got it wrong. Guess I never told you about Ryan. He’s my son, but he has his shortcomings. I’m more worried about him corrupting her.”

“Why?”

“The kid’s a babe hound. I give him the talk now and then and make sure he has a supply of condoms. He’s incorrigibly promiscuous; never has a girlfriend, just wants to lay the entire female half of the senior class. And maybe a teacher, too.”

“Well,” Kendall said, “Brynn’s over eighteen and she told me she’s never had a boyfriend. I can’t see her jumping into anything.”

“Maybe you should talk to her. I’d hate to think his sudden interest in computer forensics is a ploy to get in her pants.”

“Sure, I can talk to her. Who else did you get in touch with?”

“I talked to Agent Kahn. You’re right, he sounds like a real dirtbag, but he said he’d send your medical examiner a copy of Jordan’s DNA report, ASAP. That was after he subtly insisted you were tilting at windmills. Guess I’d have to agree with him on that one.

“Then I talked to Schoenfuss, told him about your surgery and said to put you on sick leave. No problem there. He didn’t even ask about the case or why we were in Stillwater.

“Alverson and his partner haven’t found a damn thing connecting Gerald Fostvedt to the murders or to Travis Jordan. They never found Fostvedt’s phone, but they’re still working on it. I checked with the courthouse. The judge still isn’t able to get in, and it looks like all his cases might be put off until tomorrow.

“I brought you this.” He handed her a bag that smelled suspiciously like a burger. “Thought you’d need some sustenance, but no grease. One char-grilled burger from the restaurant, with a side of cottage cheese. Eat up and we’ll take a ride to the courthouse if you can handle it.”

Kendall grabbed the bag of food. She was starving.

The activity at the Stillwater courthouse had nothing to do with snow removal, the parking lot crammed with police cars, an ambulance, and a few media vans. More than one reporter stood in front of a camera, mouth pantomiming.

Nash parked as close as possible to the scene. “Fuck. This has to be bad news.” He turned to Kendall. “Stay here, I’ll find out what’s going on.”

Despite the effort it took to follow him, Kendall got out of the car and hurried to catch up. He might need her badge to cut through the crowd. She hadn’t made much progress when she saw him turning back. He stopped her and took her arm.

“What is it?”

He kept walking. “In the car. I’m too pissed to talk about it in front of a crowd.” He helped her back into the Land Rover.

“The judge called and arranged the hearing for one, then called back and cancelled again. In the meantime, some mental midget from the jail brought Jordan to the courtroom early. Don’t ask me what happened. They don’t broadcast the details of their fuck-ups.”

Kendall nearly screamed. “He got away?”

“Fucker’s in the wind. Your buddy Kahn’s over there trying to spin it for the media. Asshole.”

She took a deep breath. It wouldn’t help to bitch about it. It was done.

“Did anyone see Jordan leave?”

“His buddies must have been here waiting for the hearing, and when Jordan had a chance to walk, they all took off in a dark-blue Silverado. Any idea where they would go?”

Kendall tried to think rationally. “I still have the address of the place he was sharing with two other guys. It’s in St. Paul.”

“No, they can’t go there now; it’s the first place the cops will look for them. They’ll have to find somewhere to hole up for a while, someplace the cops don’t know about. Or ditch Jordan somewhere before they go back.”

“I’ll call Brynn and Alverson. See if they’ve come up with anything new on Jordan.” Kendall took out her phone.

The call to Alverson turned out to be pointless; a multiple-car pileup on 53 had everyone covering it.

Brynn answered the phone breathlessly, as if she’d been laughing when the phone rang. “Hi, Kendall.”

“Brynn, I need your help right away. Travis Jordan escaped before the hearing even took place. Have you gotten anything on him that might help us find him?”

“I don’t think so. He got arrested for a couple misdemeanors; the latest was a bar fight, but you probably knew that already. That’s about it.”

“I want you to keep looking. We have to find him.” She started to hang up, but thought of something else. “Wait, one more question. The bar fight. Do you have the name of the bar?”

“Hang on.” Kendall heard keys tapping.

“It was in a roadhouse about ten miles north of Stillwater, right on the St. Croix. It’s called The Wheelhouse.”

Kendall and Nash left Stillwater heading north. When they were well out of town, Nash asked, “How are you doing?”

“I’m good.”

“Do you need another pill? There’s some bottled water in the back.”

“I’ll take one if I need to, Mom.”

He reached over and grabbed her knee. “Just checking. You’ll have to be alert if we find this mope.”

“I don’t get it. Why would he run now, when the hearing could have set him free?”

“Because he’s guilty and knows it would only be a matter of time before they get enough evidence to nail him.”

“I suppose. I wanted to see how he would react to Gerald Fostvedt’s photo. And I’d like to know if he’s Chelsea’s son. That would give him a motive.”

Nash didn’t comment. Kendall knew what he thought of her theory that Jordan could be Chelsea’s son.

“I think we’re getting close to this place. I’m going to drive past it, scope out the parking lot.”

The Wheelhouse came into sight. It was a dark brown, weather-beaten structure, one story high and only about a hundred yards off the river. Parking ran across the front and one side of the building. Nash drove by. There were two vehicles in the front lot, a red Malibu and an old Chevy Trailblazer.

“Wait,” Kendall said. “It looks like there’s parking around the back.” Nash turned the car around.

Kendall’s pulse started to race. “There’s a blue truck in back.”

Nash pulled into the front lot next to the Trailblazer. “Wait here. I’ll check out the back lot first, find out if the truck is a Silverado. If it is, I’ll go in and see if Jordan’s in there. If I spot him, I come back out and we call the Feds. Okay?” Not waiting for an objection, he stepped out of the car.

Kendall waited impatiently, wishing she weren’t handicapped. Nash returned minutes later. “It’s a Silverado. I’m going in. Call Kahn.”

Kendall grabbed his arm. “No, let me go in. You cover the back. He can freak all he wants. He’s a fugitive and I want to take him in. We can’t call Kahn until we know for sure Jordan’s in there.”

“Kenny, you’re in no shape for that. You can barely walk, let alone handle a punk like Jordan right now. If he’s here, I say we call Kahn for backup right away.”

He was right; it would be the best way to handle it, but it sucked. “Then what, we sit here with our fingers up our ass waiting for the Feds to show?”

“Use your head. Once the Feds get here,” he reasoned, “where are Jordan and his boys going? There’s only one way out and I don’t see any boats lined up waiting to take them away.”

Her temper flared. “Use my head? Who do you think you’re talking to? Don’t forget I’m the detective.”

He gripped the steering wheel. “I know you’re mad because you can’t operate like you normally do. I get that. But if we try to take him, he could run again and I know you don’t want that. I’ll set my phone so I can call you if he’s there without taking it out and tipping them off. I won’t be able to talk, so just go ahead and call Kahn if your phone rings.”

She nodded her assent, frustrated with her limitations.

Nash entered the bar chewing on a toothpick, hair slightly disheveled, and his shirttail hanging out under his battered jacket.

Waiting turned out to be impossible. Kendall pulled herself out of the car and moved toward the back entrance, her hand hovering over her gun. She could walk, but that was about it. She hated to imagine what a struggle would do to her stressed insides. It was a cold day, but sweat formed on her skin under her heavy clothing. She wanted to be between Jordan and the getaway truck in case he and his buddies got suspicious and tried to take off.

She made it to the back entrance trying to think of a way to disable the truck when she felt the vibration of her phone against her hip. Nash had recognized Jordan. Fighting to control her breathing, she backed further away from the door to make the call to Kahn.

Kahn picked up on the first ring. “This better be good. I’m up to my ass here. What do you want, Halsrud?”

“We found Jordan.”

“You what!”