Mercy Falls

29

They all sat in Cork’s office and for a long time said nothing, just drank the good coffee Dina Willner had brought, and sifted through their own, silent thoughts.

“We won’t know for a while if the rifle we found at the farmhouse is the same one that fired the rounds at the Tibodeau cabin,” Simon Rutledge finally said. “So we need to assume this isn’t just some goofball who wants to scare you and is using the situation.”

“Anybody ever tell you, Simon, that you’ve got a real knack for stating the bleeding obvious,” Ed Larson said.

Cork knew the tension in the room was the result of tired people once again having to step into the front lines feeling as if they’d gained no ground.

“The phone records will tell us where the call came from,” he said.

“It came from nowhere that’ll be of any help to us, I can tell you that right now,” Larson said.

He took off his gold wire-rims and massaged the bridge of his long nose. Rutledge tapped the desktop with his fingertips as if sending out Morse code. Dina Willner stirred a white plastic spoon in her coffee. Cork, who’d hardly slept, sat with a notepad in his lap and read over and over again what he’d written about the voice on the phone the night before.

Low. Muffled, but precise. Male. Dispassionate.

Several manila folders lay open on the desk, all containing documents related to the investigation of the attempts on Cork’s life. They’d been gone over a dozen times and no one saw anything new there.

He got up and walked to the window, watched a man in the park let his small dog off a leash to run free. Ralph Grunke and his terrier, Sparks. Cork watched Sparks begin to sniff every tree.

“I’ve been thinking about this guy who called. He wasn’t angry. He didn’t seem emotional at all. I keep replaying what he said, how he said it. It was very calculated.”

“Calculated for what effect? Just to scare?” Rutledge said.

“No, I think he meant it. But it was as if the personal element was missing.”

“Like a hit?” Dina asked.

Cork thought a moment. “I don’t know what a hit’s like, but maybe.”

“It’s interesting,” Dina said. “If it is a hit, why let you know it’s coming? In my experience, that’s pretty unprofessional.”

Cork turned to her. “What exactly is your experience?”

She took the spoon from her coffee and tapped it clean against the side of her cup. She set it on Cork’s desk. “I dealt with a number of contract killings when I was with the Organized Crime Section. It’s seen as an expeditious way to cover tracks, silence a witness.”

“Cover what tracks here? And if Cork was a witness, a witness to what?” Rutledge said.

“Got me.” Cork headed back to his chair.

“Maybe it is a hit,” Larson said. “But not by a professional. Whoever it is sure bungled the first attempt.”

“And the bomb,” Rutledge said.

“And now this announcement of further intent,” Dina added. “I think Ed’s onto something.”

Cork sat down. A dull throb had begun in his head. Too little sleep. “Could it still be related to Lydell Cramer?”

“The connection with Moose LaRusse and the rez would sure point in that direction.” Larson hooked the wire-rims over his ears. “He certainly could have supplied the information needed for the location of the hit.”

“Was there someone we missed who was connected to the farmhouse?” Dina asked.

Rutledge shook his head. “Lydell’s sister, LaRusse, and Berger. Those were the only ones the Carlton County sheriff’s people observed out there.”

“Does Cramer have any other relatives?”

“I’ve already put someone on checking that out,” Rutledge said. “We’ll follow up on the phone records as soon as we have them. You never know what might turn up.”

“What about the Jacoby investigation?” Cork asked. “Anything new, Ed?”

“I’ve got the record of the calls Jacoby made and received on his cell phone. I’ll be looking those over.”

“I’d like a copy, too.”

“Sure. And we’re waiting to see if there’s a DNA match with Lizzie Fineday and the evidence we got from Jacoby’s SUV.” He glanced at Dina. “Any idea when we might hear?”

“I don’t expect anything until tomorrow.”

“If it’s a match, we go after Lizzie and I’ll bet something will break.” Larson sounded truly hopeful.

“All right. Let’s see what shakes,” Cork said.

As the others filed out, Dina stayed behind and closed the door. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of his desk. She smelled of herbal soap, a clean, fresh scent. “You get any sleep at all last night?”

“Barely.”

“It might be a good idea to stay somewhere else until this is over. Anywhere other than home.”

“I’ve thought about that.”

“You could stay at my hotel, take the room next to mine. Among other things, I’m an excellent bodyguard.” She waited, gauging his response, which was simply to stare at her. “The other alternative is I could stay at your place.”

To that he shook his head. “Small town. Big talk.”

“I’d sleep on the sofa.” She drilled him with her wonderful green eyes. “Unless you wanted otherwise.”

“I think I’ll put a cot in here.”

She gave a diffident shrug, slid off his desk, and headed toward the door. “Just keep it in mind.”

He watched her leave, but not without a little stab of regret.