Rules of Crime (21 page)

“Do we have any leverage?”

“Just the dog connection and the phone text arranging to meeting Dakota. As far as we know, he’s the last person to see her alive.”

“So we act like we know he’s guilty, offer him a plea?”

“Yes. And hopefully search his place while he’s here in custody.”

Jim Trang, the assistant DA, was working on a warrant for the property and subpoenas for the dogs’ forensics. Now that two detectives had been laid off, they took whatever help was offered by the DA’s office or even from volunteers.

Jackson nodded. “Let’s do this.”

Schak went in first, knowing Jackson needed to sit near the door. Even so, the closet-size room squeezed him, like he had a rubber band around his chest.

Jackson pulled out his recorder, clicked it on, and identified all the participants. A recessed video camera was also in use but he preferred not to point that out. He met Renaldi’s eyes. “How well do you know Dakota Anderson?”

“We’ve been dating a few months.”

“Were you lovers?”

“Of course.”

Jackson didn’t understand why smart young women with college degrees slept with dog-owning thugs with shaved heads and tattoos. He prayed his daughter would never succumb to the bad-boy attraction. “Did you see Dakota last night?” He almost hoped Renaldi would lie and give them some leverage.

“Yes. She came over after she left work.”

“What time was that?”

“Around ten thirty.”

“What happened then?”

“We had sex and she left an hour later.”

Jackson made note of the times. “Why did she leave?”

Renaldi closed his eyes. “Will you tell me what happened to her?”

“I think you know. Why don’t
you
tell me?”

“I have no idea. Dakota was upset about her job and the whole kidnapping thing. She wanted to drink and talk but I needed to get some sleep so I could get up early for work. So I asked her to leave.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I breed protection dogs and do part-time construction work. We finished drywalling a house this morning.”

Jackson needed to know more about both, but the mention of construction bothered him. “Which company?”

“Evergreen.”

A shiver ran up his spine. “So you know Daniel Talbot.”

“He owns the company, but I don’t see him much.”

Jackson took a moment to process the information. Daniel Talbot had been their primary suspect. He’d lost money because of Ivan Anderson and had sent threatening e-mail. What if Renaldi’s relationship with Dakota was all part of his boss’ retaliation plan?

In the silence, Schak jumped in. “When was the last time you saw Renee Jackson?”

“Who?”

Schak slammed the table. “Don’t bullshit me. You know Ivan Anderson’s fiancée.”

“Not really. Dakota told me she was kidnapped, but I didn’t pay attention to her name.”

“When did you meet Renee?”

“I didn’t. Dakota never brought me home to her family. We don’t have that kind of relationship.” A little smirk in his expression. “I did meet her dad once accidentally.”

Jackson resisted the urge to smack him. “How did you meet Dakota?”

“At a friend’s party.”

Jackson was making connections. “Was it your boss, Daniel Talbot?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Did you know how Talbot felt about Ivan Anderson?”

Renaldi shrugged. “I knew he was pissed off and bitter.”

“But you dated Anderson’s daughter anyway. How did Talbot feel about that?”

A quick jerk of his head. “He didn’t know.”

“I think he did. I think he asked you to start dating Dakota to pump her for information.”

“No.” Renaldi scowled. “Dakota came on to me. And except for that party, I don’t really see Daniel Talbot. I work for Darrell Jarvis, the contractor.”

Schak jumped back in. “We think you helped Talbot kidnap Renee. Tell us where she is and we’ll cut you a deal.”

“This is crazy. My girlfriend is dead and you won’t tell me how.” Renaldi shoved his chair back and stood. “And you think I kidnapped her father’s girlfriend, a woman I didn’t even know.”

Before he finished, Jackson and Schak were both on their feet. “Sit down!” they yelled in unison.

Renaldi took a series of rapid breaths and pressed his thumbs to his temples. After a moment, he sat. “How did she die? Why are you questioning me?”

Jackson was torn. He’d hoped the suspect would reveal crime-specific information, but that hadn’t happened. If Renaldi wasn’t involved, the man had a right to know how his girlfriend had died. Finally, Jackson said, “She was mauled by a dog, or dogs, in Wayne Morse Park.”

“Oh god.” Renaldi squeezed his eyes shut again. “It wasn’t my dog. I would never—” He broke off and balled his hands into fists. “Dakota and I were mostly friends. Fuck buddies. But I cared about her. She was kinda messed up but that’s what made
her special. I had nothing to do with her death. I’ve never been in that park.”

“What do you mean by messed up?”

“Her mother and her stepmother both died, so she had issues.”

“Like what?”

“She was a shopaholic. Like she was trying to fill some void inside her. I think sex was like that for her too.”

“You’re saying Dakota had multiple partners?”

“We both did.”

Schak cut in. “Were you screwing her father’s fiancée, Renee?”

“No.”

“Did you help your boss kidnap her?”

“No.”

Jackson took back the questioning. “Do you know where Talbot might hold her for ransom?”

Renaldi cocked his head. “He has a skiing cabin up at Gold Lake.”

“We’ve been there. What about a construction site?”

“Seems unlikely. They’re all in development.” Something registered in his eyes.

Jackson said, “You thought of a place. Where?”

Renaldi nodded. “It’s an underground safe room in a house we’re building on Skyridge. The work on the main house has stopped for the winter because the owners are worried about mold, but the underground room is mostly finished.”

“Address?” Jackson knew better than to feel hopeful. Renaldi was just trying to shift the focus off himself.

“It’s near the top of Skyridge on the left, but it may not even have an address yet.”

“If we find her there, we’ll have a lot more questions for you.”

Schak stood, walked around the table, and squatted next to Renaldi. “We know you put the dog on Dakota. It’s only a matter
of getting teeth impressions and DNA. Once they match any of it to her wounds, you’re going down. So tell us your version. Did Dakota find out you grabbed Renee Jackson? Did you have to silence her?”

Renaldi blinked like a man in a dust storm. “I breed and sell protection animals, so there are aggressive dogs out there that are closely related to mine. DNA could be misleading.”

“We’ll leave that to the experts.” Jackson had no idea if they could get a match with canine teeth or DNA that would hold up in court. He’d never handled anything like it. “Where were you last night between midnight and two a.m.?”

“I was at home, sleeping. I told you. I had to work this morning.”

“Can anyone verify that you were home?”

“No.” Renaldi’s tone relayed his irritation. Or was it fear?

“Where did you work?”

“At a new house on Monroe Street, near Twenty-Eighth. We finished the drywall and knocked off early.”

“Who’s your supervisor?”

“Darrell Jarvis. Like I said.”

“What’s his phone number?”

Renaldi rattled it off. “You’re wasting your time.”

Jackson jotted down the number, not even sure he would make the call. They needed to find the dog. Or maybe the crime techs would get lucky and find something Renaldi had left at the scene. “I’d like a list of customers who’ve bought dogs from you.”

“I can’t do that. They have a right to privacy.”

“A judge may not agree.” Jackson felt restless and eager to escape the tiny room. “Why not cooperate with us? Don’t you want to know what happened to Dakota?”

“Yes, but I can’t let you ruin my business.”

“Why do you train your dogs to attack and kill?”

“I train some to protect.” He emphasized the word
protect
. “I don’t have the time or desire to work with them all. Most of my customers hire a trainer for their specific needs after they’ve bought the dog.”

“But you have dogs on your property that will kill on command.”

“Just Tesla, my own protection dog.”

“When was the last time you commanded her to attack?”

Renaldi shifted in his seat. “Tesla has never hurt anyone.”

Frustrated with the lack of a breakthrough, Jackson struggled for a new line of questioning. “How did Dakota feel about your dogs?”

“She liked Tesla but was never around any of the animals out back.”

“Do you have other animals besides dogs?”

“No. Why would I?”

“Let’s take a break. Would you like a soda?”

“Just water. I don’t poison my body with sugar and chemicals.”

Good for you
, Jackson thought, getting up.

Out in the hall, he turned to Schak. “Will you call Trang and see if he has a warrant yet? I’d like to keep Renaldi in custody until we search his place. He has to be involved in Dakota’s death somehow.”

CHAPTER 26

Tuesday, January 10, 11:42 a.m.

Twenty thousand dollars was such a small pile of money,
River thought, as she handed the backpack to Anderson. She’d bundled the cash into rubber bands back at the house, and the two stacks of bills would have fit into the average purse. Instead they were in the bottom of a small backpack as directed.

Why had the kidnapper offered to take so much less the second time? River wondered. Was he worried about getting stiffed if he asked for the whole hundred grand again? Or was he just in a hurry and not willing to wait for Anderson to beg or borrow the rest?

Anderson gripped the strap like a drowning man. Her heart went out to him. Hours earlier he’d learned of his daughter’s death and now he was going out again, hoping to save his fiancée. The past few days had probably robbed him of five or ten years of his life. “Are you sure you want to do this?” she asked. “We have no idea what he’ll want you to do next.”

“I have to.”

“Is your radio on?”

Anderson touched his earpiece and nodded.

River looked over at Agent Fouts and the group of three men standing by. Except for Detective Quince, they wore casual clothes, jeans and sweatshirts or zippered sports jackets. River was sporting a maroon velour tracksuit, something she referred to as
street clothes
for undercover work, but that she happily wore at home. She suspected they still wouldn’t quite blend with the bus-riding crowd in Eugene, which tended to be a mix of blue-collar workers, students, homeless people, and drug dealers. For the moment, they were in a parking lot near the downtown bus station. The new four-story brick library loomed nearby and the transit station across the street took up an entire city block. Both entities seemed overbuilt for the size of the town, but after living in San Diego and Portland, Eugene felt rather Podunky. River checked her watch: 11:50.

“It’s time. Fouts, go first and take the front of the bus. Anderson, follow in a few minutes and sit somewhere in the middle. I’ll get on at the last minute and head to the back. Quince, Torres, and Gilson, fan out around the station in your cars.” She didn’t really need to repeat the information. They’d been over it thoroughly but she was being careful. After the last failed effort, losing both the money and the courier, she couldn’t afford to botch this one too. The bureau was looking for a reason to fire her. She no longer fit their profile. But dumping her after her operation would have been politically ugly, so they were waiting for an opportunity. The universe had gifted them with this potentially high-profile train wreck. No one had ever expected her to handle anything like a ransom kidnapping after she’d relocated to Eugene. A made-to-order FUBAR scenario.

“I still can’t believe the transit people actually wanted us to do this without our weapons,” Fouts complained again. “This town is so fucking politically correct, it’s surprising they even have a jail.”

“We don’t,” Detective Quince said. “It’s run by the county.” He grinned, climbed into his car, and headed for the Chase bank on the other side of Eleventh Avenue.

Fouts moved quickly to the station, a lean man with a muscular, caffeine-fueled walk. After a minute Anderson followed, head down and legs heavy. River hurried along the block and approached the idling bus from the other side.

In addition to the three cars they had in the proximity, two more agents were parked along the bus route and several Eugene police officers were on standby in the area as well. River would have liked more agents on the scene, but she had tag teams watching her suspects, Striker and Talbot, round the clock.

She ran the possible scenarios in her head again. The kidnapper could text Anderson and order him to throw the money out the bus door when it opened, then grab it from the sidewalk and run or bike away. Or he might already be on the bus and grab it as he passed by to exit. Or he might order Anderson to get off the bus and onto a bicycle. Or worse yet, onto another bus. The thought made her clench her hands. An unexpected change of direction would put Anderson out of their communication reach and give the kidnapper the best chance of escaping. If they followed Anderson onto another bus, the kidnapper would likely see them and call off the drop. Either way, it might put Renee’s life at risk.