The Zero Night

21

Stride had sat in an interview room in police headquarters with Gavin Webster several times in the past, when Gavin was an attorney representing his clients. This time, Gavin was alone. He’d expected the man to arrive with his own attorney, but Gavin had the usual lawyer’s arrogance of thinking that the advice he gave to his clients didn’t apply to himself.

They sat on opposite sides of the table. Stride read the attorney his rights. He was taking no chances with procedure. Gavin didn’t flinch at the recital or make any effort to halt the interview.

When he was done, Stride said, “Do you want some coffee? Water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you hungry?”

Gavin chuckled without humor. “If you’re trying to play the good cop, you must really think I’m guilty.”

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to think, Gavin.”

“I already told you that I didn’t do it,” the lawyer said.

“Yes, I know that’s what you said.”

“Are you any closer to finding Chelsey? Do you have any leads?”

Stride nodded. “Actually, we do. We believe a client of yours, Hink Miller, played a role in Chelsey’s kidnapping. He may have transported her in the trunk of his Ford Taurus. There’s a scent of perfume in the back. We also found zip ties and traces of blood. We’ll be testing the blood to confirm whether the DNA matches your wife, but we think it’s likely.”

Gavin sat back in the chair as if he’d been struck. He covered his nose and mouth with his hands and breathed loudly. “Did you search Hink’s house? Did you find any evidence of where he took her?”

“There’s no sign of Chelsey on the property. So far, the only connection we’ve found is the car.”

“Do you think Chelsey’s dead?”

“We don’t know any more than what I’ve told you. But let’s talk about Hink. When’s the last time you talked to him?”

“I represented him in a case sometime last year,” Gavin said.

“Have you seen him since then?”

“I don’t think so. Not after the case wrapped up.”

“How did he happen to choose you as his attorney?”

Gavin hesitated. “A third party brought me in.”

Stride made the obvious leap. “Broadway? Did Broadway hire Hink to do security at the poker games?”

“All I can tell you is that I only represented Hink the one time last year. We’ve had no substantive communications since then. Honestly, I can’t believe he would have been involved in Chelsey’s kidnapping. Have you talked to him? Did he admit it?”

“Hink’s dead,” Stride said.

“What?”

“He was shot to death yesterday afternoon. His mother was strangled at the same time. Their bodies were found at her home south of Superior.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“Where were you yesterday afternoon, Gavin?” Stride asked. “The police were at your house, so we know you weren’t there.”

Gavin didn’t answer at first. He looked in shock. “I drove around.”

“All afternoon?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I was in a daze.”

“Did you go to Wisconsin?”

The lawyer blinked and took a few seconds to answer. “Yes, actually, I did. I thought about going down to Rice Lake to see my parents, but I decided not to drive that far, so I turned back.”

“Did you go to the house where Hink Miller was staying?”

“Of course not. I had no idea Hink was even in Wisconsin. Last I knew, he was in Duluth. All I did was drive around by the water and then I crossed the bridge back to Minnesota. I went up the north shore for a while.”

“Did you murder Hink Miller and his mother?” Stride asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous. No, I didn’t.”

“Do you own a gun?”

Gavin’s blue eyes took on a squirrelly look. “I do.”

“What kind?”

“A 9 mm Glock.”

Stride stared back at him. “Hink was shot with a 9 mm.”

“It’s a very common gun, as you know.”

“We’d like to run ballistic tests on your Glock.”

Gavin stared back across the table, and his upper lip glistened with sweat. “Actually, my gun is missing.”

“Missing?”

“I went to look for it on Thursday night. I wanted to bring it along to the ransom drop. I didn’t know what I was dealing with, and I thought it would be safer if I was armed. But I checked our bedroom closet, which is where I always keep it, and the gun wasn’t there.”

“It didn’t occur to you to mention this before now?” Stride asked.

“In the panic of everything else, I forgot about it. All I can assume is that the kidnappers took my gun.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I have no idea.”

“How would they know you had a gun? Or where you kept it?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

Stride nodded. “Remind me how much you paid in the ransom drop.”

“One hundred thousand dollars.”

“In cash?”

“Yes.”

“In hundred-dollar bills?”

“Yes.”

“How did you transport the ransom?”

“In a red Hello Kitty backpack that the kidnappers left for me. I already told you this.”

Stride slipped a glove onto his right hand, and he leaned down to the floor and reached inside a box. Keeping it far enough away that Gavin couldn’t touch it, he held up the backpack that Lance Beaton had found in Hink Miller’s basement. “Is this the backpack?”

Gavin’s blue eyes widened. “Yes! Where did you find it?”

“Hink Miller had it.”

He shook his head. “Hink. I can’t believe this. So he really was involved. Why would he do this? It makes no sense.”

“Did you recognize Hink in the boat on Thursday night?”

“No. I told you, the man was wearing a hood.”

“But it could have been him?”

Gavin shrugged. “I suppose.”

“And when you tossed the backpack to the man in the boat, it contained the full hundred thousand dollars?”

“Yes. Why?”

“We found less than ten thousand dollars in the backpack,” Stride said.

“Ten...?”

“That’s right. Not a hundred thousand dollars. Ten thousand. Where’s the rest of the money?”

“I have no idea. Whoever killed him must have it. Obviously, Hink had a partner. They split up the ransom after the man brought in the boat.”

“So you’re saying that the kidnappers split up the cash between them overnight, but then one of them came back the following day and killed his partner? Why not just kill him right then and there and take all of the money? And why would Hink settle for ten thousand? If he knew there was more, why not demand half? Also, why would Hink have the backpack itself but only a small portion of the ransom money?”

Gavin laid his hands flat on the table. “Look, I can’t explain any of this, but I know what you’re thinking. I hired Hink to kidnap and kill Chelsey. I paid him ten thousand dollars, and that’s what was in the backpack that I tossed to him in the boat. Then I went and killed him to make sure he wouldn’t expose me.”

“Is that what happened?” Stride asked.

“No! It’s not. I wasn’t involved in any of this. Not in kidnapping my wife. Not in killing Hink Miller and his mother. Someone else did this.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know!” the lawyer erupted.

Stride calmly tapped a pencil on the table. He watched Gavin Webster and tried to get inside the man’s head. Typically, the easiest answer in any investigation was also the right answer. Husband inherits millions, decides not to share it with his wife, and arranges for his wife to disappear. And yet Stride still couldn’t decide what he saw in the lawyer’s eyes. If he was guilty, he was covering it well. If he was innocent, he was keeping secrets about something.

“Did you talk to Hink about your inheritance?” Stride asked.

“Of course not. Back then, I didn’t have it! But I told you, word has gotten around. So maybe he knew. I have no idea.”

“Did people at the poker games know about it?”

“No comment.”

“Did you see Hink at the poker games? One of the people there could be his accomplice.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“Or you could be his accomplice,” Stride added.

Gavin held out his wrists. “If you believe that, then you better arrest me.”

Stride did nothing, and Gavin shrugged. “I guess that means I can go?”

“Yes, you can go,” Stride told him.

Gavin stood up, and so did Stride, but when the lawyer went to open the interview-room door, Stride blocked his way by holding the door shut. “One more thing. I want you to make a phone call for me.”

“To who?” Gavin asked.

“Broadway,” Stride replied. “I need to talk to him again.”

It was night. Late.

Serena drove around Duluth. She was trying desperately not to go where she wanted to go, and like a nomad, she cruised the city. She drove up London Road as far as the split at Highway 61, and then she turned around, retracing her steps. She took the turns of Seven Bridges Road into the rural areas north of the city, then crossed the desolate land to the airport, then made her way to Miller Hill Mall, which was closed for the night.

In the mall’s empty parking lot, she sat with the engine running, the windows open, and the radio playing. John Anderson teased her with “Straight Tequila Night.” She switched off the radio and closed her eyes and squeezed her fists together. The hunger of what she wanted left her mouth dry with desire. She could taste it, feel it, imagine the sensation in her chest. There was no hiding from it. The more she resisted, the more the need grew. She craved the peaceful, easy feeling of that liquid bliss coursing through her bloodstream.

Aimlessly, Serena drove again, still trying to stay ahead of the temptation. She went to Enger Park. To the docklands by the water. To the mean streets of the Central Hillside. Her phone kept blowing up. Stride texted her. Cat texted her. Guppo texted her. She ignored all of them. When the notifications kept coming, she turned off her phone.

From downtown, she made her way to 5th Street. Near Gavin Webster’s house, she parked below the trees and got out. Down the hill, the lights of the city glowed like a ribbon next to the dark stain of the lake. Looking up, she saw the streak of a shooting star. The lights of Gavin’s house were dark. It didn’t matter, because she hadn’t come here to see him.

Instead, Serena stared at the house of the Sacks family across the street. Standing at the base of the steps on the house’s steep slope, she called out quietly.

“Elton?”

If the dog were outside, left on his own to the elements again, he would hear her. Smell her. Know she’d come back for him. If he were there, she would take him with her, and he’d protect her and keep her sober. But there was no bark this time, no whimper from a Border collie left alone. At least for tonight, the Sackses had brought him inside.

Serena got back in the Mustang in despair. Before she could drive off, she glanced up at Dale’s brightly lit office window on the second floor. There, front paws against the glass, was Elton. Somehow he sensed her presence. The dog tilted its head, its snout pointed upward, and Serena opened the car window and heard a muffled, mournful howl.

Elton was calling to her. Missing her. It broke her heart. He needed her, and she needed him.

Dale Sacks came to the window. He yanked on the dog’s collar to shut him up and take him away. The man looked down at the street but didn’t see her car parked below the retaining wall. After a while, he turned around and disappeared, and a few seconds later, the lights in the office went out.

Serena turned on the engine and finally did what she’d known she would do all along.

She drove to the bar on Grand Avenue.