Relative Malice (26 page)

46

Kahn called a week before Christmas. Kendall hadn’t heard from the agent in days.

“Jordan’s girlfriend showed up at the prison to visit him. We’d heard about her but were never able to get a name. I’m going to question her today in Stillwater. Jordan’s refusing to see her, and to talk to us, but she’s agreed to come in today. Thought you might want to sit in.”

Kendall wondered at his generosity, annoyed that he hadn’t called her as soon as Jordan became conscious, but quickly said she was on her way. She’d settle for what she could get now, and maybe he’d let her have a go at Jordan later.

When she arrived at the Stillwater station, she found Kahn pacing in the hallway. “About time, Halsrud. Ready to go in?”

Why did he look nervous? Kendall peeked through the two-way mirror of the interview room to get a look at Jordan’s girlfriend. Unexpectedly gorgeous, she appeared to be a career woman, wearing a brown tweed jacket over well-cut slacks and an ivory, satin blouse. Hard to imagine her with the Travis Jordan Kendall knew.

“Sure that’s the right woman?” Kendall asked.

“I know. Surprised me too.”

Now Kendall understood his invitation. While maintaining their ogling rights, there were a few cops who demurred from interviewing attractive women—they were admittedly too easily distracted. She suspected it was more likely that beautiful women intimidated them. It was surprising for a Fed, however, despite Kahn’s lack of social skills.

“Want me to go in first?” Kendall asked. “Maybe she’d open up more to another woman.”

He hesitated, and then gestured toward the door to the interview room. “Sure. Go ahead. If you need me, I’ll be out here watching.”

Kendall entered the room; Jennifer Polanski stood on the other side of the table, her arms wrapped around her slender body as if she were cold. The room, however, was warm. In her late twenties, Jennifer’s makeup was subtle and her dark hair expertly highlighted.

Kendall introduced herself and asked Polanski to take a seat across from her. She waited until they were both seated. “Jennifer, thank you for coming in. Can you tell me how long you’ve known Travis Jordan?”

“Almost two years.”

“Where did you meet?”

Jennifer stifled a smile as if afraid it would be inappropriate. “At a club. I was with a date—someone I’d just met. It wasn’t going well. Travis was sitting at the bar and he noticed I was miserable. He took pity on me and started talking to me when my date left for the men’s room. He even offered me cab money.”

“And did you leave?”

“Yes, but not in a cab. I had my own car. I’d met my date at a restaurant across the street. After I brushed him off, I met Travis there for coffee. He was so easy to talk to. Nothing like the men I usually dated—he listened like I was the most important person in his world. And for a long time, I believed I was.”

“How would you describe your relationship?”

“We were planning on getting married. Until a few months ago, anyway.” Jennifer sat back and crossed her arms.

“What changed?”

“He found out about his mother.”

“You mean Chelsea Glausson. Do you know how he found her?”

“Yes. We were waiting in line to get into a club in St. Paul, when a man walked past. Travis saw him, did a double take, and just took off after him. I had no idea why. He left me there without a word and never came back.” She slid off her jacket and took a drink from a bottle of water. “I waited for half an hour, then I took a cab back to my apartment. He showed up at my door two hours later looking like he’d been in a fight. He had a bruise on his cheek and I could tell his nose had been bleeding.”

“Did he tell you what happened when he caught up with the man—or who he was?”

“I knew how Travis grew up—about everything they did to him,” Jennifer said. “Sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night screaming. It was getting better, though. He said sleeping with me kept him grounded in the present, made the past seem more like a bad dream. I felt so bad for the little boy he used to be. Can you imagine growing up as a pedophile’s plaything?”

Kahn had shared Jordan’s medical history with Kendall. Jordan had been so badly abused as a child that he’d needed surgery in order to defecate naturally.

“Did he tell you how he happened to be with them?” Kendall asked.

“He didn’t know,” Jennifer responded. “They taunted him with different stories from time to time: his mother didn’t want him and threw him into a dumpster; she sold him; or they broke into the house, killed his mother and father, and took him with them.”

She sold him—one of the taunts true. Kendall repeated, “Did he tell you what happened the night he saw that man and ran off?”

“He told me the man he saw was one of the men who’d kept him as a child. He cornered the guy when he caught up to him, and they fought. When Travis threatened him, he admitted he bought Travis from his mother when he was a newborn, and told Travis she’d only cared about the money. She told them what they paid her for the baby didn’t even cover her labor pains.”

Kendall didn’t want to feel sympathy for a murderer, but the thought of an innocent child living in such conditions was heartbreaking. “You felt sorry for him, Jennifer. Why leave him?”

“I didn’t at first. He told me he made the man give him his mother’s name. He said he’d find her and make her pay for everything they did to him. He threatened to kill her for what she’d done. I hate violence, Detective. I felt so much pain for what he’d been through, but I couldn’t condone that kind of revenge. I tried to tell him he couldn’t trust anything that animal told him. His mother could’ve had a good reason for giving him up and been conned into thinking he’d be placed in a good home.

“He wouldn’t listen. After a few weeks I thought he’d calmed down and let it go. Then he admitted he’d hired a private detective to find her for him. When he got her married name and found out she had a family, it put him over the edge. His anger consumed him; I didn’t recognize him anymore. I’d had enough. I asked him to move out.”

“Did you hear from him after that?”

“Once. He called me in the middle of the night, sobbing. He’d been drinking and I couldn’t understand most of what he said. He hung up on me when I started asking questions. That’s the last contact I had with him and now he refuses to see me.”

“Didn’t you ever think about calling the police and letting them know what he planned to do?”

She sighed. “Of course, now I wish I would have turned him in. Don’t think I haven’t regretted that. But I knew they couldn’t lock him up for something he only threatened to do. I’m sure he didn’t even own a weapon at that time. And frankly, I really didn’t believe he’d do it. I still thought he’d get over it eventually.

“What about the other two home invasions?” Kendall asked. “Do you know if he had anything to do with them?”

“Agent Kahn asked me that, too. The one in Green Bay was before we met, but my gut tells me he had nothing to do with it; he would have had no reason like he did with his mother and her family. The night of the murders in Stillwater, Travis was with me. I remember because it was the weekend of my birthday and we went away for a few days.”

The story about the birthday weekend could be checked out. If Jordan hadn’t done the others, how had he gotten the gun?

Two days later Kendall received an unexpected phone call before she’d even left for the station.

“Kendall? This is Gray Glausson. I need to talk to you.”

“Is Philly all right?”

“She’s fine. It’s about Chelsea. We got access to the house a few weeks ago and we’ve been taking care of all their things. I found a key, a key to a safe deposit box Chelsea rented under her maiden name.”

“Have you opened it?” Kendall asked.

He exhaled loudly. “Can we talk? If you can come out here, we’ll have the coffee on.”

“Sure, I can do that. But I’m curious now, what is it?”

“Chelsea left a video for her children in case anything ever happened to her.”

“Some people do that. It isn’t unusual.”

“She left a letter, too—for the child she gave up.”

47

Kendall drove to Stillwater carrying Chelsea Glausson’s letter, memories of Nash invading her mind as she pulled up at the Stillwater hospital. Being there overwhelmed her with the pain of missing him. Pain seemed to be fitting for what she was doing, bringing Chelsea Glausson’s letter to a man whose only contact with his mother had been at birth and on the night he killed her.

Gray Glausson told her he’d had a hard time deciding whether to open the letter; his first thought, was Jordan didn’t deserve any consideration. He’d open it, read it, and throw it in the fire. After discussing it with England, he’d mellowed and agreed to send it to Jordan unopened, honoring Chelsea’s wishes. In spite of everything, Travis Jordan was Chelsea’s son. Once he read the letter, he’d have to live with its contents. If there were any justice, his mother’s words would haunt him forever.

Kendall met Lucille Bellamy in the ICU outside of Jordan’s room. “Thanks for meeting me here. I’m here in place of Mr. Glausson,” Kendall explained. “I’m sure you can understand why he chose not to be here himself.”

Bellamy smiled her wry half-smile. “Of course. It says quite a bit about the man that he was willing to send the letter at all.”

“He loved Chelsea. He believes this is what she would have wanted.”

“Has anyone read it?”

Kendall had wanted to break the seal and read the letter ever since Gray had given her the envelope the day before. “No. Is Jordan talking yet?”

“Only to me.” She told Kendall that Jordan still refused to talk to Kahn or any of the local police, and he still wouldn’t meet with his ex-girlfriend.

He’d refused to talk to Kendall the day she’d met Jennifer Polanski. “We may never know if he’s responsible for all three of the invasions.”

Bellamy nodded. “I can’t discuss any details, of course, but you know Jennifer Polanski alibied him for one of them.”

“I’m not sure she’s entirely credible.” Kendall felt sure in her gut Polanski was legit but wasn’t going to admit it to Bellamy. They’d verified the couple’s hotel reservations the weekend of the Stillwater murders, but hadn’t found a witness who could vouch for Jordan’s presence.

Bellamy gestured to Jordan’s room. “Let’s get on with it.” They passed the officer at the door and walked into the room. Jordan lay in the bed with the back cranked halfway up. He curled his lips at the sight of them. Being near death hadn’t ruined his good looks or softened his sullen attitude, although his hair had grown in over the letters tattooed on his scalp.

“Travis, Detective Halsrud is here on behalf of Mr. Gray Glausson,” Bellamy informed him. “Chelsea Glausson, your biological mother, left a letter for you in a safe deposit box. Mr. Glausson wants you to have it. He’s sent it with Detective Halsrud.”

Jordan stared blankly ahead.

Bellamy grabbed the TV remote from his left hand and turned off the set. “Travis, I told you before they’ve confirmed she’s your mother. Your DNA matched hers.”

Kendall offered him the letter. “I imagine you must be curious to see what your mother had to say to you.”

His haunting sea green eyes met hers. “I don’t give a crap what she had to say. The bitch sold me like a piece of meat. Keep the fucking letter—or burn it—doesn’t mean jack to me.”

Should she walk out? No, Chelsea Glausson wanted her words communicated to her child. Kendall slid a fingernail under the flap and pulled out a one-page letter. “Then you won’t mind if I read it to your attorney.”

Kendall’s heart ached for Chelsea. There was only one similarity between Chelsea Glausson’s situation and her own; they’d both given birth to a child they were unable to raise. Kendall had the advantage of knowing she’d placed her daughter in a good home.

She swallowed over the thickening in her throat and read aloud:

My beloved son,

I knew you for such a short, sweet time, yet if I saw you on the street, I know I’d recognize you. When I gave you up for adoption, I had no means to raise a child, and I believed giving you to people who would love you and provide a good home was in your best interest. The person who arranged the adoption introduced me to the couple who would be your new family. They appeared to be nice people; nevertheless, my heart broke when I handed you to them.

Years later, when I tried to find you, I discovered the agency I used was bogus. I found no trace of the person who arranged the adoption or the couple who took you. I tried to hire a private detective to locate you, but he told me with the little information I had to give him, it would be dishonest to take my money. I’ve prayed you had a loving home and the years were good to you. I want you to know, although I haven’t been able to hold you in my arms, you’ve always been with me in my heart.

Please forgive me. I love you.

Your mother,

Chelsea Glausson

Kendall had a hard time reading the end of the letter. Jordan said nothing, his gaze remained on the far wall. Kendall folded the letter back into the envelope.

“Well, I guess that’s it, then.”

Bellamy left the room as Kendall returned the letter to her purse and moved to follow her. She walked to the door remembering the abused little boy Chelsea had searched for. Her sympathetic thoughts didn’t last long as images of the Glausson family on the night of their deaths popped into her mind.

A voice sounded behind her. She turned to see Jordan propped up on one elbow, as far as his restraints allowed.

“Leave me my fuckin’ letter.”

Epilogue

Kendall, who’d never had any great love of the holidays, volunteered to work Christmas Eve and Christmas day so others with families could have those days off. Her dad and Maggie were in the Bahamas, and her uncle had left for Springfield to visit his son and daughter-in-law. Although she always complained about the family dinners on holidays, she felt oddly alone this year.

The night before Christmas Eve, Brynn met her in the hallway as she was coming home from work.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Brynn asked.

“I’m working. I just got off shift now, and I’ll be on for a twelve tomorrow and again on Christmas Day.”

Brynn adjusted her tinted lenses. “Um, why don’t you come to Morrie’s party tomorrow tonight after you get off?”

Kendall hadn’t heard about a party.

“There are a lot of people who don’t have anything to do on Christmas Eve,” Brynn explained. “So he’s closing the place except for people who buy tickets to the buffet dinner he’s serving. I’m going to help with the food. The tickets are only three dollars.”

Because she still spent time with Ryan, Brynn had been Kendall’s only connection to Nash these days. He’d finally stopped calling, and the day he’d shown up at the station on crutches, she’d made a rapid exit out the back after hearing his voice. Since Whitehouse had told her Nash was getting divorced, she’d never found the nerve to call him.

“Where’s Ryan tonight?” Kendall couldn’t help but ask.

“He has to get together with his grandparents tonight and the other relatives tomorrow night.”

Kendall agreed to stop in at the party after work and offered to lend a hand if Morrie needed servers.

After she got home on Christmas Eve, Kendall sifted through her wardrobe, glad she’d given in to Nat’s invitation for lunch and shopping on her last day off. After Nat told Kendall about the new woman in her life, Kendall had been more comfortable making an effort to regain their lost friendship. The red sweater she’d talked Kendall into buying, far from her usual sedate taste, would work for the evening. She put it on over a pair of dark gray slacks, added gold earrings, and let her freshly highlighted hair fall onto her shoulders.

There was a full house in the bar and sounds of Christmas music coming from the jukebox. She passed underneath a giant ball of mistletoe hanging conspicuously in the doorway, dodging an elderly man carrying a grandchild on his shoulders as she walked in. The scent of baked ham filled the air, and the buffet groaned with food. Latecomers loaded their plates with goodies.

Brynn, wearing her long, white hairpiece, had taken off her dark glasses and added a touch of makeup. She looked adorable in a soft, blue sweater and winter white slacks. Despite the look, to Kendall, Brynn still appeared vulnerable and younger than her years.

She and Kendall helped keep the buffet stocked until Morrie told them to take a break. They heaped food on their plates and found an empty booth.

“I sent in applications to five forensic science schools,” Brynn announced between bites of food. “Ryan did too.”

“Really?” Kendall hadn’t thought the boy would maintain an interest in higher education. “What’s happening with you guys? Still just platonic?” If she hadn’t known Brynn as well as she did, she might have missed the soft flush that colored her pale neck.

“We’re friends, that’s all.”

Kendall didn’t push. Brynn was over the age of consent. A broken heart wouldn’t kill her; it was something everyone experienced at some time or other. “Is he still dating a lot?”

“I don’t ask him what he does when he’s not around.” Brynn slipped a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth. “It’s none of my business.”

Not forthcoming. This was the Brynn she was used to. They finished their meal entertained by Christmas music, laughter, and a steady stream of revelers meeting under the mistletoe. Kendall’s favorite carol, “Oh Holy Night,” played in the background as Ryan slid into the booth next to Brynn. He held a twig of mistletoe over her head and gave her a hasty kiss on her cheek.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. Brynn flushed again. “My dad brought me here after the party,” he added.

Ryan didn’t say, “Dropped me off.”
Kendall looked hopefully toward the bar. Leaning on one of the stools, Nash sat facing her, barely recognizable in corduroy slacks, a beige sweater and a brown leather jacket. He was clean-shaven, his hair trimmed above his collar; she’d never seen him in anything other than his usual Army Surplus attire. Her pulse quickened. She couldn’t avoid it any longer—she had to talk to him. She left the booth and stood in front of him, but words wouldn’t come, the need to touch him so great that her brain disengaged and her tongue froze to the roof of her mouth.

Instead of complaining because she’d refused his calls and dashed away from him at the station, he grinned and pulled her to him.

“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

Nash followed her up to her apartment after the party. She made them coffee, and they sat comfortably on the sofa. Kendall loved being close to him, his arm draped around her shoulders, her hand on his chest. Part of her wanted him to rip her clothes off and carry her into the bedroom, but her wiser half enjoyed the nearness, content to delay physical intimacy.

She filled him in on how things had come together in the Glausson case. “You may have heard some of it already, but the latest news is the FBI matched the prints found in Green Bay with one of Jordan’s buddies; one of the two he was with when we found him at that bar.”

“So it’s looking like Jordan only did the Glausson invasion.”

“Yes. Now they have to find the guys. They’ve been out of sight since the day they peeled out of that parking lot. Even their truck hasn’t shown up.”

“How’s Philly doing?” he asked.

“Great. Gray and England have the whole family thing going now. They’ve scrapped the big, fancy ceremony and upped the wedding plans to February. Hasn’t he told you all this?”

“Nah. He doesn’t say much about his personal life.”

“What about the threats he received? Did he ever find out who shot at him?” Kendall asked.

“The bullet was too mangled to be helpful, but he knows who was behind it—a disgruntled employee. Former employee, now. He decided not to complicate things by filing charges.”

“Oh, one more thing,” Kendall said. “Brynn’s break-in turned out to be random after all. Two teenaged boys copped to it when they were brought in for another one in the area.”

“Then I guess it’s all wrapped up as much a it’s going to be.” Nash pulled back and faced her. “We need to talk about us.”

Kendall was glad he’d been the one to bring it up, but hated to spoil the mood. “Go ahead.”

“You must have heard Shari and I got a divorce. I want you to know it wasn’t about you. Not all of it, anyway.”

She turned to him. “You don’t owe me an explanation. It isn’t really my business.”

He frowned. “It’s going to be. Right?”

“I . . . I hope so.” Her pulse fluttered.

“Shari and I, even though we love each other, it hasn’t been working. We went to a therapist who finally cleared it up for us, made us realize the bottom line is we can’t make each other happy.” He drew a deep breath, exhaled. “I had to admit I have feelings for you. Saying it out loud made me realize I couldn’t give you up. We decided to call it quits. But I have to tell you that Shari and I will always have a connection. I don’t know if you can accept that.”

Kendall rose from the couch. She had to be honest, as he’d been with her. “I want you in my life, Nash, but I can’t promise it’ll never bother me.”

He stood and took her in his arms. “You don’t have to promise me anything. We can take things one day at a time.”

Holding him close, enjoying his male scent, she remembered what Whitehouse told her; Nash would be taking another job. It could mean he’d be leaving.

“Are you going to keep working for Glausson?”

“I will until I decide where to go from here. I’ll be a cop again someday, but I want to do undercover. That might mean a bigger city. I’d have to leave Eau Claire.”

Kendall wanted to believe his decision depended on her, but it was too soon to discuss their future. They should be deciding things like which movie to watch or whose apartment to spend weekends in.

He’d been upfront with her about everything. Kendall considered telling him about her daughter, then changed her mind. There’d be a better time to tell him.