Remembering Dresden (Jack Turner Suspense Series Book 2) (27 page)

Vandergraf sighed. “Well, please go out there and take care of it. Then call me back when you’ve found the items.”

“If he’s there, you don’t want me going in after it, right?”

“No. We don’t have to play hardball yet. I’d rather this not get messy. At least not at this stage.”

“Got it. I’ll get back with you soon.” Strickland started up the car and headed for the road leading out of town toward the cabin.

Fifteen minutes later, he turned right onto the same dirt road he’d driven on earlier that day. This time, he drove right past the dirt road on the left. Sure enough, about a block away the road opened into a clearing. The lake was on the left, the cabin on the right. It was nice. Definitely not a shack. Best of all, no BMW parked nearby. No cars at all, as a matter of fact.

To be on the safe side, he turned around and headed back toward the dirt road leading to the shack. Thought it would be better to hide the car down that road in case Turner came back while he was there.

After hiding the car, he jogged past the shack along the water’s edge until he came to the cabin. The place was still quiet. The door was locked but the key he’d been given opened it. He went inside. It was empty, but it was obvious someone was staying there. He needed to do a thorough search but decided against tearing the place up like he had done at Turner’s condo. Having both places torn up in the same day would rule out the idea of a break-in at the condo. Cops would figure out that someone must be searching for something.

That wouldn’t be good.

Strickland started his search in the upstairs loft.

When Jack arrived back at the cabin, it was totally dark. And he was totally exhausted. No chance of doing anything with the remnants of this night but grab a snack and head off to bed. He set his things down on the dinette table and decided he did have enough energy to call Rachel and update her about his phone call to Joe.

“I was hoping you’d call,” she said. “At least, so I’d know you got in okay.”

“I did. But I’m wiped out. But hey, it’s for a good cause.”

“So how’d your call go with Joe?”

“Perfect,” Jack said. “He had the exact reaction I was hoping for. Between this evidence of the name change and the items from the safe, the case is pretty solid. He’s gonna call an FBI friend, run the whole thing by him. Then set up a time with the DA to see how he wants to handle the local part.”

“You mean about whether or not to charge the Senator?”

“Yeah. He agrees there’s criminal activity there. But he’s not sure how the DA will see it.” Jack just noticed something. He had been pacing around the living room as they talked. He walked back toward the dinette table. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“My laptop bag. It’s on the dinette table. When I left, I put it on the chair. And my box of Dresden research material.” He had left it sitting on the dinette table. It was still there, but, “the lid isn’t snapped down. It’s just resting on top, and it’s a little crooked.”

“You sure you didn’t just forget?”

“Pretty sure. Definitely sure about the research box lid.” He noticed something else. “My bedroom door is open. I closed it this morning before I left. Somebody’s been in here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. Let me check something else.” He unzipped the top of his laptop bag. “Good. Still there.”

“What is?”

“My laptop. It wasn’t stolen. Seems to me, if someone broke in, they’d definitely steal something like that. But instead, it’s like they just…moved it. I don’t understand. Can I call you right back?”

“Sure. But don’t forget.”

“I won’t.”

Jack spent the next ten minutes walking through the cabin seeing if anything was missing. Nothing was. He did find several more examples of things that had been moved, some just slightly. He called Rachel back.

“Well, this is very strange. I’m one hundred percent convinced somebody’s been in here while I was gone. But I can’t find a single thing missing.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. I wonder if it was Bass, the next-door neighbor who looks after the place. Maybe he just came in when I was gone. You know, being nosy.”

“Are you gonna say something to him tomorrow?”

“I don’t think so. If it was him, he didn’t really bother anything. But I gotta say, between him being next door and this cabin’s dark history, I’m pretty sure I won’t be buying this place when my month is up.”

Rachel laughed. “I guess not. Although it is a shame. It’s a really nice place. And I love that fire pit outside.”

“I know. Well, anyway…I better go.”

“Glad you made it home okay.”

“Me too. I’ll call you tomorrow sometime. Love you.”

After hanging up, Jack had another thought about his mystery visitor. He went into the living room, slid the recliner back, pulled back the throw rug and popped off the loose floorboard. He reached down and felt the safe right where it belonged. But he started thinking about what Joe had said earlier about how critical this evidence was.

He lifted the safe out, set it on the floor and opened it. After bringing the scrapbook and journal to the dinette table, he put the living room back together again. He couldn’t be sure there was any connection between all these events but, to be on the safe side, he decided to lock these things in the trunk of his car.

Right now, not in the morning.

Rob Strickland had just finished eating breakfast at Cracker Barrel. It was early. Mainly because he’d hardly slept last night. He hadn’t found the scrapbook and journal in the big cabin either. He’d looked everywhere. He didn’t have the nerve to call Vandergraf about it last night. But he’d have to call him this morning. If he didn’t, Vandergraf would be calling him.

All things considering, it could have gone much worse. He’d avoided a disaster when that old lady walked in on him at the condo. But it ended up okay. He didn’t have to shoot her, and he was sure she hadn’t seen his face. Of course, it’s not like he could share that small victory with Vandergraf.

He was about to slide out of the booth when his phone rang. Crap, it was Vandergraf.

“Strickland, where are you?” Vandergraf’s voice was sharp and angry.

“What do you mean,
where am I
?” Strickland said. “How about,
good morning, Rob. How’s it going
?”

“What happened last night?” Again, Vandergraf’s angry voice.

“What’s eating you?” Strickland asked. “How about you go get your morning coffee, then call me back.”

“How about you tell me what happened at that history professor’s condo last night, and tell me why you didn’t mention anything about it when we talked?”

How did he know about anything going wrong at the condo? “Would you please tell me what’s going on? Yesterday evening you were nice as a spring rain. Now, you’re all in my face. What’s going on?”

“Strickland, what happened at the condo yesterday? Something involving an elderly woman?”

“You know about her?”

“Sadly, I do. And so do the police.”

“The police? How are the police involved?” Strickland stood, dropped a twenty on top of his bill, nodded to the waitress. “You keep the rest,” he whispered and headed out the front door.

“Then you don’t even know?”

“Know what? What are you talking about?”

“I was a little curious,” Vandergraf said. “So I drove by Turner’s condo complex this morning. There’s all these police cars and emergency vehicles there. And their lights are flashing. So I stopped and asked the security guard at the gate what was going on. He said the police found an elderly woman—he identified her as a Mrs. Carlson. She was lying dead on Jack Turner’s bed. Turner’s not there. The guard said he hadn’t been there for over a week. He said the police are thinking it looked like she surprised a burglar, but they aren’t sure yet. He didn’t know how she was killed. If she was shot, or what. But you know, Strickland, don’t you? So I’m asking…what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything to her!” Strickland yelled.

“The guard said one of the cops mentioned since they’d found her on his bed, they weren’t sure if she had been sexually assaulted,”

“WHAT?” Strickland yelled. Someone in the parking lot turned to look. He quickly turned his back and lowered his voice. “You think I raped an old lady? That’s crazy. I wouldn’t do that. I did everything I could not to hurt her.”

“Well, guess that didn’t turn out so well. She’s dead.”

“Well, she wasn’t when I left. I was almost finished searching the place when she walked in. I guess she was there to feed his fish. I was in the kitchen, so she didn’t see me. But I knew she would any minute. When I saw her back was facing away from me, I shoved her into the bedroom and closed the door. Before she could get a look at my face. That’s all that happened. Then I left. Well, first I told her not to come out for fifteen minutes. But I swear to you, I didn’t touch her.”

There was a long pause on the other end, then Vandergraf said, “Okay, let’s both calm down here.”

“I can’t believe the old lady’s dead. She must have had a heart attack. That’s all I can think of.”

“Maybe so. But you know what this means, don’t you? Heart attack or no heart attack.”

Strickland knew. “I ain’t a murderer,” he said. “I just did what you guys hired me to do.” He said that last comment as a subtle reminder that, if he went down for this, he would not go down alone.

Vandergraf seemed to get what Strickland was saying, because the accusing tone left his voice. “Well, let’s just stop for a minute and think this thing through. Did anyone else see you besides this elderly woman?”

Strickland thought for a moment. “There was this other old lady walking her dog on the way in. We saw each other for a second at the most, but she was across the street. I couldn’t even tell you what she looked like, so there’s no way she could ID me.”

“Was she the only one?”

“Yes. I’m sure of it.”

“Well, the autopsy will confirm that you didn’t hurt her, that she died of a heart attack or maybe a stroke. Since she died of natural causes, there won’t be as much outrage as if she’d been shot. How old do you think she was?”

“Seventy or eighty, at least.”

“You wore gloves?”

“Course, I wore gloves.”

“Well, I think we can weather this thing.”

“It was an accident,” Strickland said. “I did what I did so I wouldn’t have to shoot her. I even pushed her down on the bed so she wouldn’t fall on the floor.”

“Okay,” Vandergraf said. “Let’s drop it for now. What’s done is done. So, did you at least get back to Turner’s cabin? The real one?”

“I did. Scoured the place, top to bottom, but no luck. Couldn’t find any trace of the journal or that scrapbook.”

Vandergraf sighed. “We have to get them. It has to be done. It might be necessary to intensify your search.”

“You mean…”

“If they’re not in Turner’s condo, and they’re not in the cabin, he must have them in his briefcase, or in his car. Which means you have to take things to the next level.”

“I can start by breaking into his car,” Strickland said. “That I can do without making a scene. I’ll just follow him a while and do it when he parks somewhere easy. But if they’re not in there, you know what comes next.”

A short pause. “I don’t care,” Vandergraf said. “You have to get those items, no matter what it takes.”

“I just want to make sure we understand each other,” Strickland said.

“I think we do,” Vandergraf said. “Just don’t get sloppy.” He hung up.

“The old lady wasn’t my fault,” Strickland said to no one as he put his phone back in his pocket.

As usual, Jack allowed himself to wake up when his body was ready. He got out of bed, washed his face with cold water and drifted out to the kitchen to turn the coffee pot on. He could tell by the amount of light coming in the windows that he’d slept longer than usual. Glancing at the microwave clock, he saw it was 8:35am.

While the coffee brewed, he decided to give Rachel a call. That’s when he realized he’d forgotten to charge his phone. It was completely dead. He plugged it in. He’d call her after his coffee.

When it came on, he stared at the screen to check if anyone had tried to reach him. He had two texts and two phone calls, both that morning. Clicking the texts first, he discovered they were both from Sergeant Boyd, a few minutes apart. Both said the same thing:
Jack, call me as soon as you get this
. He looked at the phone calls. Again, both from the sergeant, both a few minutes apart. He called him back right away.

“Jack, how soon can you get here? I’m at your condo.”

“My condo? Why are you there?”

“I’ve been trying to reach you. There’s been an incident here. An elderly woman is dead. Would you be surprised if she was found in your apartment this morning?”

“Mrs. Carlson?”

“I believe that’s her name. Someone found her this morning. Actually lying on your bed.”

“What? You’re kidding? Of course you’re not kidding.”

“Do you know what she was doing at your place?”

“Probably feeding my fish. The poor lady. She lives next door. I asked her to stop by once a day to feed the fish. How did she die?”

“We’ll have to wait for the autopsy to be sure, but it looks like natural causes to me. No evidence of foul play on her body. Hank and I are both thinking she didn’t just die because it was her time. I’ve gotta ask you something…would you say you keep your apartment pretty neat or pretty messy?”

“On the neat side, I guess. Why?”

“I thought so. The other thing that doesn’t add up is finding her on your bed. I’m told the door was closed.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make sense. The aquarium’s in the hallway. I can’t believe she’s dead. Although I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone more eager to leave this life. She talked about it all the time, wanted to be with her husband. But why did you ask if I was neat or messy?”

“Because your apartment is a total mess,” Boyd said. “Hank and I both think she interrupted a break-in, and that whoever was here scared the life out of her, literally. Probably shut her in the bedroom and closed the door. Then the heart attack came, or whatever else killed her.”