The Cold Nowhere (11 page)

Maggie followed Brooke into a stairwell that smelled of vomit. They took the stairs to her second-floor office. The two windows looking toward the street were dirty and cracked, and a loud fan kept air moving, even during the winter. Brooke sat down behind
her battered oak desk and casually rolled up a months-old
People
magazine to swat a cockroach on the window ledge.

‘So how are you, Maggie?’ Brooke asked, dumping the dead bug in her wastebasket. ‘How are the new offices? Must be nice, right? Flat screen TVs, sushi in the cafeteria, personal masseur on call.’

‘Ha ha,’ Maggie said.

The Duluth Police had been headquartered in the City Hall building for as long as Maggie had been on the force, but they’d recently moved to a new facility that they shared with the St. Louis County authorities. The modern building was a step-up from their downtown space, but it was in the flatlands near the airport, far from the center of town.

‘I still don’t know how K-2 got the Council to spend the money,’ Brooke said. ‘When I’m looking for a grant, they always tell me the city’s broke.’

‘Well, Stride beat a rat to death in the men’s room with a baton. When he dropped it on the chief’s desk, they got serious about a new building.’

‘We’ve got plenty of rats around here,’ Brooke said.

‘Yeah, I know. Are you keeping your head above water?’

Brooke folded her hands together. Her red fingernails were long and neat. She looked elegantly out of place against a backdrop of posters on meth, STDs, and family planning. ‘This isn’t Hazelden,’ she said. ‘We don’t have a line-up of wealthy celebs handing us money. We’re lucky to get a donation here and there and a few bucks from Medicaid.’

‘That’s recession economics. Demand goes up, funding goes down.’

‘Well, God forbid we should ask any of our millionaire CEOs to drop an extra dollar in the tax bucket,’ she said sourly.

‘Don’t you hate rich people?’ Maggie asked, winking.

‘Hey, you’re my favorite rich person and you know it. I just wish you’d let us put your name on something. You give twice as much
as that son of a bitch Lowball Lenny, and I’ve got to suck up to him at every Council meeting and invite him to donor dinners to meet the kids. What a hypocrite.’

‘I hear you.’

‘Sorry. I get frustrated sometimes. I see kids who have nothing, and I can barely scrape together enough dollars to help them without getting on my knees for these rich bastards.’ She plastered a smile on her face. ‘Anyway, I’m grateful for people like you. What can I do for you, Maggie?’

‘It’s about that girl I mentioned on the phone. Catalina Mateo.’

Brooke nodded. ‘Okay. What’s going on?’

‘She says someone is trying to kill her,’ Maggie said.

‘Is this for real?’ Brooke asked, with a dubious furrow in her brow. ‘I mean, you know how it is with these girls. You can’t always take what they say at face value.’

‘Exactly. That’s what worries me. You know all about Cat’s family background, right? You know what happened to her parents?’

‘Of course. It’s awful what she went through. Unfortunately, awful is the ticket of admission around here.’

‘What can you tell me about her?’

Brooke rocked back in her chair and fiddled with a ballpoint pen. ‘Look, Maggie, I want to help, but I can’t talk about what’s going on with any of these girls without their permission. They have legal rights. I won’t put them in jeopardy.’

‘I realize that but I’m not trying to bust Cat for anything. Stride’s got a signed release from her, too. If you need it, I can fax it over here.’

Brooke looked uncomfortable. ‘Fine. Okay. I’ll tell you what I can, but that’s not much.’

‘How long have you known her?’

‘About two years. Her aunt, Dory, was one of my best friends at UMD before she dropped out. Dory brought Cat to the shelter when she started running away. Cat sleeps here off and on, but it’s been
a couple weeks now since I’ve seen her. If something’s going on, I haven’t heard about it.’

‘She says someone almost ran her down a block away.’

‘Here?’ Brooke asked. ‘That’s news to me.’

‘It happened in the middle of the night.’

‘Maybe so, but stories like that get around.’

Maggie leaned across the desk and lowered her voice. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Brooke. Something about this girl bothers me. I want to get inside her head. Is she paranoid, or do you think it’s something more than that?’

Brooke frowned. ‘It’s hard to be sure. Most of the kids who come here, they’re on the streets for a reason. Their problems are intractable. You’re talking about severe abuse and emotional dysfunction. This is life or death every day, it’s not “my mommy didn’t love me”. Next thing you know, they’re deep into prostitution and drugs.’

‘I know that.’

‘It’s funny, I remember writing a paper in college about legalizing prostitution. Make it legal and safe and regulate the hell out of it. I was pretty self-righteous. If a woman wants to use her body as a business, why should the government care? I figured, no harm, no foul, right?’

‘A lot of cops feel that way,’ Maggie said.

‘Yes, believe me, I know they do. Cops look the other way all the time. Everybody does. Unfortunately, you can dress it up any way you like, it’s still abuse. I don’t care whether it’s fifty dollars in some doorway or a thousand dollars in a Minneapolis hotel room. These girls are being permanently damaged. It messes with their heads for ever. I wish I’d known that back in school.’

Maggie heard the emotion in her voice. ‘I’m on your side, Brooke, but what does this have to do with Cat? Is she one of the really messed-up ones?’

‘Well, there’s obviously ugly stuff in her head.’

‘That doesn’t help me.’

‘I’m sorry, but I don’t really know anything more.’

‘Come on, Brooke. I know you. You’re not telling me everything. What’s going on?’

Brooke screwed up her pretty mouth, as if she were chewing on sour candy. ‘It’s a suspicion, nothing more. I can’t prove it. Besides, I don’t like to drag up old ghosts.’

‘Ghosts?’

‘Vincent Roslak,’ Brooke said.

Maggie frowned and put the pieces together. ‘The psychologist who was murdered in Minneapolis? What does he have to do with this? I remember he had a connection to the shelter.’

‘Roslak was a psych volunteer,’ Brooke acknowledged. ‘Honestly, at the time, we were thrilled to have him. We needed a counselor and he had great credentials. We can deal with the physical needs these kids have, but if we ignore their mental and emotional problems, we’re never going to make any real difference in their lives.’

‘I saw his photo,’ Maggie said. ‘He had more than credentials.’

Brooke smiled. ‘Yeah, he was easy on the eyes, too. We didn’t have to twist any arms to get the girls to see him. Unfortunately, he was one of those shrinks who likes to counsel with his cock.’

‘How did you find out what he was doing?’ Maggie asked.

‘Steve Garske got suspicious. He talked to several of the girls when he was doing their physicals. Three of them admitted that they were having sex with Roslak. He was a smooth operator, I’ll give him that. These were tough street girls and they were gaga for him. That was the last time I let him in the door.’

‘I never saw a police report about it,’ Maggie said.

‘No, the girls didn’t want to get him in trouble. No way they would have admitted anything to the police. Steve worked with the licensing board. Roslak’s license got yanked, and he moved to Minneapolis.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Maggie asked. ‘Do you think Roslak was sleeping with Cat?’

‘She wouldn’t admit anything to me or Steve, but Roslak saw her several times. I know that.’

Maggie frowned. She didn’t say anything, but Brooke could read the tension in her face.

‘Hey, I know what you’re thinking,’ Brooke said, ‘but Roslak was murdered in Minneapolis. He slept with a lot of women. He probably left a trail of jealous husbands, too. You’d have to take a number to get in line with everyone who wanted him dead.’

‘Maybe so, but there are things about the case that weren’t in the paper,’ Maggie said. ‘The Minneapolis cops didn’t release all of the details.’

‘What details?’

‘Roslak’s death was pretty ugly,’ Maggie told her. ‘He was killed with a knife. Just like Michaela. Somebody stabbed him, like, fifty times.’

Talk to me, Cat. Tell me what you see. I can help you, but you have to let me get close to you. Will you do that?

‘Cat?’

And then again: ‘Cat?’

It was Kim Dehne, with a quizzical smile on her face.

Cat looked up, startled, and realized that she’d become hypnotized by the thunder of the falls. The two of them stood on a stone bridge over the Lester River, which cascaded furiously toward the lake, its water muddy brown. Slick black boulders, dotted green with lichen, lined the banks.

‘Oh, sorry,’ Cat said. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the roar of the water.

‘You looked far away,’ Kim said. ‘Off on another planet.’

‘Just thinking.’

Kim picked up a fallen oak branch about two feet long and dropped it off the bridge. The sucking power of the river grabbed the stick and fired it through the rapids, like a circus performer hurling a knife. ‘Scary, huh? I hate it when we lose kids in there. Seems like every year some ten-year-old gets too close, and the current takes them like
that
.’ She snapped her fingers.

‘Yeah.’ Cat shivered.

‘Sometimes it’s days before they find them. Some boater out on the lake fishes them out. Poor kids. You always think you’re invincible at that age, you know?’

‘Sure.’ Cat didn’t think she’d ever felt invincible.

Kim tugged on her arm. ‘Come on, let’s grab a bench in the park. I want a cookie.’

‘Okay.’

They wandered off the bridge toward the wet grass of the riverside park. Kim Dehne was twenty-eight, but with her squeaky voice she didn’t sound much older than Cat. She had a talky, perky way about her, but Cat liked it. Kim smiled a lot. She laughed a lot. That was cool. Kim wasn’t much taller than Cat, but she was heavyset, a well-fed Norwegian with curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. She had big hands; her tiny diamond ring looked squeezed on her finger. She wore an untucked orange sweater over black jeans.

‘Sorry you’re stuck babysitting,’ Cat said.

‘Hey, I owe Stride. He helps me and Bob find house-sitting gigs. Anyway, I like having some company. Bob’s with his folks this weekend. I didn’t have anything to do except work and eat.’

They crossed into the park through a stand of towering evergreen trees. Twenty yards away, Cat spotted a deer on the dirt trail. It was a doe with a small physique, still no more than a baby. The deer studied them, wary but uninterested. Cat didn’t move, and she took Kim’s elbow, holding her back. They waited as the animal sniffed its way toward the trees and disappeared. Something about the sight of the deer made her place her palms gently on her stomach. Kim noticed the gesture.

‘You’re preggers, right?’ she asked.

Cat was surprised. ‘Did Stride tell you?’

‘No, but I can tell. A woman can always tell.’

Cat waited for the lecture but didn’t get it. ‘Do you have kids?’ she asked.

‘Nope. Not yet.’

‘Do you want them?’

‘Someday? Yeah, absolutely. Gotta make some money first. Bob says he wants three, but that sounds like a lot to me.’

‘It would be nice to have brothers and sisters,’ Cat said. ‘I always wanted a sister. What about you?’

Kim shook her head. ‘No, I’m a one-and-out, like you. Bob’s got six siblings, three boys, three girls. Holidays are crazy, but I sort of like it.’

They sat down on one of the lonely park benches. The seat was damp and Cat squirmed in her jeans. The wind made the woody tree branches sound as if they were whispering to each other.
That’s her. That’s the girl.

Kim opened a plastic bag and took out two peanut butter cookies. She offered one to Cat, who shook her head. Kim shrugged and popped a cookie in her mouth.

‘How long have you and Bob been married?’ Cat asked.

‘Almost two years,’ Kim said. As she chewed, she worked peanut butter out of her teeth with her tongue.

‘Does he do computer stuff, too?’

‘No, he’s a teacher. High school science.’

‘Denfeld or East?’ Cat asked.

‘Denfeld.’ Kim grinned. ‘And yeah, you had him for freshman biology. I asked. He remembers you.’

Cat nodded. ‘Mr. Dehne. Sure, I remember him. He was nice. I suppose he said I was pretty stupid.’

‘In fact, he told me you were pretty smart. He was pissed off that you missed so many classes and he said he hopes you try again. Sounds like you had a knack for the science stuff. Me, I can’t cut up frogs. Sorry, won’t do it.’

Cat smiled. ‘It’s hard to think about school now, what with the baby coming.’

Kim ate the other cookie in two bites. She picked crumbs from the side of her mouth. ‘You want to help your baby? Get your butt back to Denfeld.’

Cat didn’t know what to say. Kim didn’t push her or scold her; she just said what she thought and moved on. The young computer
programmer sucked in a chestful of sweet, cold air, flaring her nostrils. She hummed as she sat on the bench, and Cat recognized the tune. It was a Rascal Flatts song about fathers and daughters that always left a hole in her heart. Everyone told her that her father was a monster and a murderer. She knew that was true, but she missed him anyway. She wrapped her fingers around the ring he’d given her, dangling on the chain around her neck.
This way you’ll always know I love you.

‘I’m a big country fan,’ Kim said, breaking off the song in mid-hum. ‘Bob and I never miss the festivals. You a Toby Keith fan?’

‘I guess. He’s okay.’

‘Just okay? Me, I love the Tobester. Kick-ass country. None of this Taylor Swift crap. That girl is too tall and too skinny. Who’s your fave?’

Cat actually liked Taylor Swift a lot, but she wasn’t going to say so. ‘I don’t know. Sara Evans?’

‘Yeah, same with Stride,’ Kim said. ‘He’s sweet on Sara, too. He talks about what a great voice she has. Personally, I think it’s that ass of hers, but what do I know?’