Read Pushed Too Far: A Thriller Online

Authors: Ann Voss Peterson,Blake Crouch

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Murder, #Serial Killers, #Romance, #Romantic Suspense, #Crime Fiction, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense

Pushed Too Far: A Thriller (10 page)

BOOK: Pushed Too Far: A Thriller
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“Because you weren’t looking. Listen, there are a lot of variables with fire. The conditions of the fire itself can change everything about the appearance of the remains.”

Val took a photo of the Nebraska victim in one hand and Jane Doe in the other. “So what other differences do you see?”

“There is a lot of splintering of the bone.”

Obviously he was talking about Jane Doe. “What does that mean?”

“It could mean a number of different things, depending on the fire conditions. But in this case, I’d guess the bones were fairly dry.”

“Which means?”

“Maybe there was no need to tie her, because she was dead before she burned, maybe long before.”

She scrolled through a mental list of Kelly Ann’s maternal relatives. “As in dead and buried?”

“It’s possible.”

Val set the photos down and cradled her head in her hands. A fuzziness was beginning to form in her right eye, and the stiffness in her neck was getting worse. Her symptoms were moving from her arm to other parts of her body, as they often did, especially when fueled by stress. But as frightening as the prospect of her body betraying her was, the idea that what Hess had told her might have merit bothered her even more. “He could have been telling the truth.”

“Who? Hess?”

She looked up at Lund. “He might have been framed.”

“By who?”

One name popped into her mind. The person who was cleared when the investigation centered on Hess.

And she was looking right at him.

“I don’t know,” she said.

He narrowed his dark eyes. “Don’t know or don’t want to tell me?”

It was a good question, a fair question. And despite her promise to be straightforward, she wasn’t willing to answer it. “If I find anything, you’ll be the first to know. Deal?”

He stared at her. “You’re not thinking me?”

She didn’t want to. He wasn’t the only one with motive. If Kelly was afraid of either of the men in her life, she would have reason to fake her own death. Unfortunately Val couldn’t discuss those possibilities with Lund. Not until she’d sorted through the facts and gained some perspective. Until she did, the job would be best served if she kept all she knew to herself, played it close to the vest, as her mentor had advised.

“I told you, I don’t believe you killed anyone,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”

Chapter
Ten

T
he interior of The Doghouse tavern was dark compared to the sun outside, and Val had to pause to give her eyes a chance to adjust. The rumble of male voices and a wave of smoke washed over her, a unique blend of cigarette, cigar, and the stale remnants of years gone by.

Lake Loyal had enacted a smoking ban, and word was, the entire state of Wisconsin would soon follow, but that hadn’t stopped Nikki Sinclair.

If the thirty-five-year-old former stripper, stage name Nikki Sin, believed in anything it was the pleasures of lighting up and men, in that order. She smoked the way most people breathed. Val had even heard her joke that the reason she’d never had kids was too much nicotine buildup in her fallopian tubes.

Truth was, Val got a kick out of Nikki. She just tried not to show it when writing her yet another ticket for breaking the ban.

“Let me guess, shot and a beer?”

Val followed the voice to behind the bar where Nikki, currently a redhead, was wiping dust off booze bottles.

“Came to see Chief Schneider.”

“Not me? I’m hurt, Val. But it’s probably a good thing. My budget won’t allow for any more tickets this month.” She waved the bar rag in the direction of the private room off the main bar.

Eyes more accustomed to the gloom, Val followed a trail of cigar smoke through the scattered seating and circled the pool table. The double doors originally sectioning off the parlor from the rest of the house gaped open.

Val focused on the group of five men clustered around one of the tables. One puffing on a cigarette and two on cigars, they were all in their seventies, and Val knew each one. Only two of them were retired, but all found time to play a few hands of sheepshead every afternoon, almost without exception.

“Hey Val, pull up a chair,” said Dick Maher, a dairy farmer who hung out at Nikki Sin’s for a while before the evening milking.

“Thanks, but I have to talk to the chief.” Usually it bothered her that Schneider would always be police chief in this town, but with this crowd, there was no point in insisting otherwise.

Fruehauf, the fire chief, threw a queen of clubs on the table and chuckled. “Pay up before you go, Jeff. I’ve got to be getting back.”

By the time the men finished the hand and settled up their fifty-cents-a-point debts, Val felt like climbing out of her skin.

The chief pushed himself away from the table and stood up, brushing pretzel crumbs from his belly. “So what do you need, Val?”

She motioned him through the door and into the kitchen.

Nikki looked up from her ashtray, arching her eyebrows at their entrance.

“Can we use your back room?” Val asked.

She blew out a puff of smoke. “You owe me.”

“Always.”

Nikki hoisted herself up from her desk chair and pushed through the door leading to the front bar, smoke trailing in her wake.

Val cracked the back door open a sliver to let in fresh air, then turned to face the chief. “I don’t think Hess killed our Jane Doe.”

For a second, Schneider just stared at her, then he sputtered out a cough. “What makes you say that?”

She cut right to the comparison. Where Lund’s explanation seemed more or less clear, hers sounded confusing and convoluted, even to her own ears. Still, when she finished, the chief was nodding.

“Have you asked Harlan to look into this? No offense, but you’re hardly an expert, Val.”

“Just called him.” She skipped the part about Lund originally telling her the things she had struggled to impart. Knowing the source would only make Schneider write off the theory without examination. “Harlan’s going to send the remains and the Nebraska files to a forensic anthropologist.”

“Not sure it’s worth all that.”

“If Hess didn’t kill her, we need to find who did.”

He waved his hands, as if erasing her words from the air. “Of course, we do. I’m just not convinced what you’ve told me proves he didn’t do it.”

The last thing she wanted was for Hess to be innocent, and she realized that was the reason she’d decided to tell the chief this new wrinkle. If there was a flaw in the direction of her thoughts, she could rely on him to find it. “Go on.”

“You say he tortured that woman in Nebraska. What’s to say he didn’t torture the woman up here, too? Torture her to death? Then there wouldn’t be a need to tie her.”

“That doesn’t explain away the dryness of the bones.”

He blew out an exasperated breath, his neck growing red above the collar of his shirt. “Why can’t you listen?”

She knew the chief had a temper, she’d witnessed it before, but it had been ages since he’d been this irritated with her. Maybe she was jumping to conclusions and needed to slow down. “Sorry, I’m a little tightly wound lately. Go ahead.”

“I’m not sure your whole dry bones theory has relevance. He could have just kept pouring on more accelerant when the fire died down. The farm is pretty remote. Your house is closest. He didn’t have to worry about being caught.”

She wasn’t sure if that was an insult or an unfortunate choice of words, but she chose to let it slide.

“I know you’re desperate, Val.” His heavy brows dipped low, making him look as grim as she felt. “And I know the county has launched its investigation, but you have your killer. Thrashing around like this is only going to help his attorneys.”

He was right, of course, and maybe that’s what Hess truly wanted. But she needed to be sure. She decided to test her first theory. “I think there was a possibility Kelly herself was involved.”

“You think she murdered and burned someone in her own family?”

“Or dug up a body to fake her own death.”

He granted her a reluctant nod. “Any other theories? How about David Lund?”

The part of the conversation Val had been dreading. “I suppose it’s possible he set Hess up, too.”

“Damn straight, it is. Hess was running around with his wife. That’s motive. He had access to the farm and no alibi—opportunity. He knows fire inside and out—means. In fact, if you’re so eager to overlook Hess—which is a mistake—Lund is your guy for both murders.”

Val bit the inside of her lip. She couldn’t argue with any of it. So why did she want to so badly?

“Have you checked the cemeteries?” Schneider asked, moving on to the next order of business.

“I’ve made some calls, but the only one I’ve actually checked is Sunrise Ridge.”

“If I remember, they’re rural cemeteries and not very lavish ones. If someone dug up a grave and didn’t professionally replace the dirt and sod, the ground might still show it. Listen, I’ll have some time tomorrow, and I have the list Pete compiled. A little road trip sounds fun.”

“That would be fantastic, Jeff. Thank you.”

“Not a problem. But I want something in exchange.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I want you to take care of yourself.”

“Don’t tell me, Oneida asked you to give me a lecture on getting more sleep?”

He chuckled. “She was always after me, too. I swear that woman is a force of nurture.”

It felt good to smile. “Well, I promise to sleep when I can, how’s that?”

“A good idea, but sleep is not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What?”

“Keep this whole Hess-is-innocent theory quiet. And ask Harlan to hold off on contacting the forensic anthropologist, at least for now.”

“I can’t just cover this up, Jeff.”

His jaw hardened and hands formed fists by his side. “I’m not saying you should. Just give us time to dig up more evidence. Don’t go off half-cocked. You’re under investigation, Val. You have a lot to lose. Just make sure when you’re looking out for truth and justice, you look out for yourself too. Because no one can to do it for you. That includes me.”

 

Val hadn’t even reached her office when Oneida’s voice boomed through the station. “Monica Forbes is waiting, line one.”

Her mind was still buzzing over her talk with Jeff Schneider, and although he’d laid out like trump cards all the reasons why she should suspect Lund, she didn’t feel clearer headed than she had before she’d set foot in the Doghouse.

“She said it’s urgent,” Oneida called.

Val waved her acknowledgement, slipped into her office, and shut the door. Not bothering to take off her coat, she raced directly to her desk, and picked up the phone. “Monica.”

“He called me.”

Val didn’t ask who. “Did he threaten you?”

“He’s too careful, but he didn’t have to. He phoned our hotel room, Val. At the casino. How could he know I was here?”

If Hess’s aim was to frighten, he was succeeding. Val had to say something to calm the district attorney down. She needed Monica to think logically. “It’s not a secret you like the casino. You weren’t home, so he went to the next option on his list.”

“The fact that he has a list is what disturbs me. I don’t like him knowing so much about me.”

Val had to agree. “Exactly what did he say?”

“He asked me if I believed in justice. That was it, just that one question.”

“He asked me the same thing. And Tamara Wade.”

“His own lawyer?”

“Maybe he didn’t think she did a good job.”

“She did a fine job. She just lost. But then, she was up against me, so who can blame her?”

Val let out a breath she wasn’t aware she’d been holding. “Calming down, Monica?”

“I guess. Yeah.” Monica laughed, the sound deep and throaty. “I was pretty freaked out, wasn’t I?”

“Can’t say I blame you. I think freaked out is just where Hess wants us.”

“Has he threatened anyone else?”

BOOK: Pushed Too Far: A Thriller
5.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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