Deadly Stillwater (9 page)

“These guys are good,” Lich said. “They’re really good.”

“They scouted this, Dick.” Mac agreed. “They knew she worked today. They knew when she would be coming and where she’d be coming from. They timed it perfectly. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t have someone watching her on campus and following her over here, over what, the six or seven blocks from campus.”

Lich looked at Mac closely.

“Is anyone pulling surveillance footage on campus?”

Dick was right. Mac whistled to Odegard and Goth, two uniform cops who quickly came over.

“Go over to St. Thomas. Find out what class Flanagan was in. Get campus security and get their surveillance footage. We think someone might have been giving these guys the eyeball.”

The two officers nodded and jogged away.

The two detectives stood with hands on hips for a few minutes, peering around, contemplating what happened and their next move. Mac took a white hanky out of his pocket and wiped his forehead. He could feel the sweat forming on his body. Lich broke the silence.

“You don’t suppose,” he asked, “there’s something the chief and Lyman don’t want us to know, do you?”

“What the fuck?” Mac growled, turning on Lich, getting in his face.

“Easy partner, easy.” Lich replied, putting his hands up. “I know how close you are to the chief. But we got two girls missin’ here. So somebody ought to ask the hard question. Were the chief and Hisle up to something?”

“No way,” Mac replied, shaking his head.

“Well they sure as hell pissed someone off,” Lich replied.

“They did, but no way. Not in a million years,” Mac answered coolly. He pulled his sunglasses off to look Lich in the eye.

After a minute, Dick backed down and shook his head.

“I don’t think so either.”

“Then why the fuckin’ question?” Mac asked.

“Because your ability to detect bullshit is better than anyone’s I’ve ever seen,” Lich replied. “If you’re not thinking that, then I feel better, that’s all. But Mac,” Dick continued, “the question had to be asked and you know it. And I’ll tell you another thing: I’m not going to be the last one to ask it. You know King Burton and his pinstriped FBI court will be thinking it. And take a look at the frickin’ media. They’ll be taking connections, conspiracy theories, and scandals before 5:00 and they’ll be doing their own investigating on this, prying into the lives of the chief and Hisle.”

Mac nodded quietly, knowing his partner was probably right. He’d have probably asked the question himself but for the fact the chief was involved. But then something else occurred to him.

“You know how I said last night this could be personal? That maybe it wasn’t just about money?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m right. If you just want money, you don’t kidnap the chief of police’s daughter in his city.”

“The chief has money, Mac,” Lich answered. “His wife’s family. The money from the logging up north. They’ve got millions.”

“Sure, we’ll get a ransom demand,” Mac said, shaking his head, waving Lich off. “But there’s more in play here – a lot more.”

A uniform came running up.

“Mac. They got an explosion over near Lake Street behind an old abandoned building. Black Chevy Express Cargo van.”

8

“
It’s like Groundhog Day.”

Smith backed the van into the garage and punched the button that closed the garage door. Carrie Flanagan lay still, finally done with her frantic squirming. A pillowcase covered her head and duct tape covered her mouth. Smith opened the sliding door to find Dean, David, and Monica pulling their ski masks back on. He pulled his own back on, then knelt down to Carrie and slid the cover off her head. He spoke softly.

“Carrie, we don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his hand placed lightly on her stomach. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to rape you. That was not why we’ve gone to all this trouble, okay? I want you to nod your head that you understand.”

Flanagan nodded. Smith continued.

“I know you’re afraid, but I want you to understand that we’re after money. You’re simply a means to an end. Once we get what we want, we’ll let you go. Okay?”

Flanagan nodded.

“Good, Carrie. If you play ball, things will go better.”

She nodded her head one more time. Smith smiled through his black mask.

“We’re going to move you inside the house now. You can’t break free, so it will be better for you to just be still and let us carry you, all right?”

She nodded again.

The brothers lifted her out of the van, Dean carrying her under the arms and David by the feet. Flanagan was relatively light in their arms, although a little heavier than the petite Hisle. Smith opened the door to the basement bedroom and Shannon Hisle turned her head to see them coming in.

“Carrie, like I said, we have no desire to hurt you,” Smith repeated. “Over on the other bed is Shannon Hisle. Do you know who she is?”

Flanagan nodded.

“She has her arms and legs cuffed to the bed, but she hasn’t been harmed in any way.” Smith looked over to Hisle. “Shannon, you haven’t been harmed, have you?”

Hisle shook her head.

Flanagan nodded, but she still had a frantic look in her eyes. Smith wanted her calm.

“We’re going to do the same with you. It will be easier if you just let us do it, okay? We’re not going to harm you, all right?”

Carrie nodded again, but the eyes were still wide.

The two brothers laid her on the bed. David got on top, sitting on her waist and holding her down while Dean cut away her restraints. He cuffed her arms and then her legs to the bed. Once she was secure, David eased off and moved back while Smith sat on the edge of the bed.

“Carrie, I’m going to remove the tape, okay?”

She nodded.

“Don’t scream.”

She nodded again.

“Because if you do scream, I will have to hurt you.”

Carrie looked over toward Shannon, who nodded back. Carrie looked up at the masked man and nodded her head.

“Okay, this will hurt a little,” Smith said as he yanked the tape from her mouth. Flanagan gasped for air, breathing deeply, trying to speak.

“Why…” She gasped. “Why… why are you doing….”

Smith laid his fingers lightly over her mouth.

“Why? Like I said upstairs, we’re after money. Your fathers have a lot of money and we want it. That’s all,” he said, his voice almost monotone and totally conversational. “This isn’t about you; this isn’t about harming you. That’s not what I want to do. It’s not what I intend to do.”

“Okay,” Flanagan answered weakly.

“Alright then,” Smith said and then looked over to Hisle, who was gagged. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

Hisle nodded.

Smith looked back to Monica, “Let’s get her to the potty. Then get her something to eat and drink.”

Monica, ski mask over her face, simply nodded while Dean and David undid the manacles for her arms and legs from the bed. Hisle then laid still while David put a different set of manacles on her feet that allowed her to shuffle out of the room.

Once Hisle was out of the room and the door was closed, Smith turned back to Flanagan.

“Now see. We have no desire to harm you. After we finish what is next, we’ll get you to the potty if you need it and some food and water as well.”

Flanagan, while still scared, had calmed down.

“Do you know who my father is?” Carrie asked.

Smith smiled through the mouth hole in his ski mask.

“You mean the revered Charlie Flanagan, chief o’ police for the city of St. Paul? Oh, we’re quite familiar with who your father is.” Smith smiled through his mask. “And we are not the least bit concerned about it.” He paused and patted her on the thigh. “Now Carrie, if you play ball with us and your daddy follows directions….” He leaned back and clasped his hands across his stomach. “Well, everything will all work out.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, if you do as we ask, your chances of making it out of this are a lot better. If you don’t help us out, well… it certainly could go much worse.” Smith paused. “Now that’s not what I want, so let’s play ball, okay?”

“Do you really think my father will pay you?” Carrie asked in disbelief. “He’ll hunt you down with everything he’s got.”

“Oh, I expect he will,” Smith replied calmly, unconcerned. “But in the end, your father will pay us.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re his little girl. That’s all the motivation he’ll need.”

* * * * *

“It’s like
Groundhog Day
,” Mac quipped.

The scene was eerily similar to the one from the day before in River Falls. The burned-out van had been found behind a vacant building on Lake Street. The entire area was essentially deserted, the alley lined with abandoned houses and the storefronts empty, except for a small printing company a block to the west. Signs on the front of the vacant and now burned-out building announced a future home for street level retail, with condominiums overtop. It was all part of Minneapolis’s efforts to rehab the Lake Street area.

For the past twenty or thirty years the area had been one of crime and drug dealing, with seedy bars interspersed between hit-and-miss storefront businesses. In the 1950s and 1960s, it had been a thriving business area surrounded by large Victorian and Tudor homes. Minneapolis was in the process of revitalizing the Lake Street strip, rehabilitating historical buildings and sweeping away dilapidated ones. Soon, those efforts would overtake the vacant and crumbling building Mac and Lich were now standing behind.

As on the day before, the van had been parked and then incinerated after the kidnappers left the scene. However, in an area with an already high crime rate, the van was immediately recognized as a crime scene. The Minneapolis cops established a wide perimeter. The FBI and Minneapolis and St. Paul crime techs were working the scene, walking around carefully, photographing, marking, bagging, and collecting anything they could. Another helicopter was flying overhead.

Mac and Lich walked up to the scene and found a diminutive Minneapolis uniform cop that Mac knew named Norman.

“Hey Mac,” Norman said.

“Norms, what do you know?”

“Not much really,” the Minneapolis cop replied. He pointed toward Lake Street. “Old guy was walking along Lake Street and saw the smoke rising behind this building. He came around back and saw the burning van, walked a block or two to the gas station and called it in.”

“Anyone see anything?”

Norman shook his head.

“Not that we’ve found. Everything on this side of the street is abandoned, awaiting demolition. In fact, the wrecking ball hits this building after the Fourth of July holiday. And of course, some of the normal clientele of this neighborhood are a bit averse to talking to us police.”

“Drug trade?” Mac asked.

Norman nodded.

“So you’ve checked all these houses behind us?”

“Yes. But as you can see, they’re empty. If anyone was hanging inside them, they skedaddled before we got here.”

“Looks like a second set of tire tracks,” Lich said, pointing to the left of the van.

“Agreed,” Mac said. “Truck or van of some kind, based on the width of the tracks. We’ll get molds of the tire tracks, see what that tells us.”

“Let’s get one of the pros on it then,” Norman said as he waved over one of the crime scene techs.

“Probably a van,” Mac said, “if it’s our assholes.”

“We’ve got some footprints as well,” Lich noted, bending over carefully and pointing with his pen.

“Two that I see,” Norman added. “Similar size, big feet – I bet size twelve or thirteen.”

“That makes some sense,” Mac answered, now standing and looking around. “Witnesses have given us the general description of a big man.”

“Great,” Lich said, unimpressed. “We have van tracks leaving the scene. Two sets of footprints for bigger dudes. Only if we’re extremely lucky do we get any forensics off the van. And, we appear to have no witnesses who saw anything at all. We’ve got nothing.”

Mac simply nodded as his cell phone went off.

“It’s Peters,” he said to Lich as he looked at the display and then answered. “Hey Cap…. Huh?... You want us to do
what
?”

9

“
You’re a pugnacious shit aren’t you?”

Mac exited from Interstate 94 at West Broadway, just north of downtown Minneapolis. The north side of Minneapolis west of the interstate was a rougher part of town. In the 1950s and 1960s, it had been a proud and prosperous working-class area. However, since that time, the area had slowly deteriorated. Pockets of poverty and drug-dealing slowly eroded the once-bustling businesses and homes. Now, what businesses still remained did so with metal bars over the window and bulletproof glass around the cash registers. It wasn’t uncommon to find bullet marks, drug paraphernalia, and graffiti around the exteriors. Gangs patrolled neighborhoods, drugs were dealt in the open, and the sound of gunfire was not uncommon, particularly at night. Much like the case of Lake Street, the city was trying to help the area. Unlike Lake Street, solutions for the north side had proven far more elusive.