The Heavens May Fall (20 page)

Max didn’t sleep well that night. He tried, but terrible dreams pummeled him with every attempt. Finally he gave up, sat on his front porch, and watched the sky grow blue until the time came to drive in to the office.

“Good to see you’re still alive.” Niki said. “You forget how to dial a phone?”

Max plopped into his chair and took the first sip of his third cup of coffee that day. His eyes burned with fatigue, and every blink added weight to his lids. “Sorry, had a tough afternoon. Personal stuff.”

“You look like hell.”

Max fired up his computer, rubbing the rust from his eyes as he waited. “Didn’t sleep well. I’ll be okay.”

“Come on, Max. What’s going on?”

Max let her plea hang in the air for a few seconds before pulling out his phone. He pulled a photo of the letter, its words clear and readable. He handed the phone to Niki and typed a search for “storage units Minneapolis” into his computer. When he turned back to Niki, she was still staring at the letter on his phone.

“My God,” she whispered.

“Like I said, it was a rough night.” Max then showed Niki a picture of the key. “That was in the envelope with the letter.”

“What’s it a key to?”

“I think it’s a storage unit.” Max turned his monitor toward Niki. The screen showed a map of the Twin Cities and the surrounding suburbs covered with hundreds of red dots. “I think whatever evidence this letter’s referring to is in one of these units. But I don’t know. Hell, for all I know it could be a storage unit in New Jersey, or not even a storage unit at all. That’s just my best guess.”

“Where’s the key now?”

“At the crime lab. Bug Thomas swabbed the key and the envelope for DNA or prints. Nothing. He wanted to keep it another day to see if he could come up with anything.”

“And the letter?”

Max didn’t answer.

“You didn’t show him the letter, did you?”

“Not yet.”

“Because if you show him the letter, he’ll know what you’re doing.”

“I just need a little time.”

“Max, what the hell?”

“This is where you say, ‘I have your back, partner.’”

“Don’t you—” Another detective walked past their cubicle and Niki bit her lip. When he’d gone, Niki said, “Come with me.” She stood and walked past Max, who made no move to leave his seat. “Max!”

He looked at her, and she wore a serious expression that he rarely saw on her. He stood and followed. She led him out of the Homicide Unit and down the long hallway to the front door of City Hall. She pushed through the door without saying a word. Max followed her across the light rail tracks to the courtyard of the Hennepin County Government Center, a red-stone plaza with a pool and fountain centerpiece.

At the edge of the courtyard she stopped and turned to Max. “This is not your investigation, Max. I know it’s your wife, but you can’t be involved. You know that.”

“I know it’s not my investigation. It
was
Louis Parnell’s investigation. He didn’t find a goddamn thing. He closed the file as a hit-and-run. He’s retired now, so it’s nobody’s investigation.”

“But you can’t be the one looking into your wife’s death. It’s not just forbidden by policy, but it’s a bad idea.”

“So, do what? Give this over to someone else to sit on, the way Parnell did? Do you really think any other detective will do what needs to be done? I’m reopening her case. I stayed out of it last time, and nothing got done. That won’t happen again. I’ll go to every single storage unit in the state if I have to. I’ll find the lock that goes with that key. No other detective would do that.”

“I would,” Niki said.

“You’re my partner. They’ll no more give that file to you than they would give it to me.”

“I’m your partner, yes, but I’m also a friend. I know what it means to you to find out what happened to Jenni. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to sit by and watch you mess up your career. I have your back—that’ll never change. But know that I don’t approve.”

“I won’t put you in the middle.”

“I’m already there, but you’re missing my point. I’m not worried about how this might rub off on me. I know that if anyone finds out what you’re doing, you’ll protect me. But I’m trying to protect you. You might be putting yourself out on the plank for a hoax.”

“And what if it’s not a hoax?”

Niki said nothing at first. Then a sad smile pulled at her lips. She reached out her hand, gently holding onto Max’s arm, as though she needed the physical connection before she could speak. And when she spoke, her words came out soft and kind—the words of a friend, not a partner. “I know there are things more important than this job. In the grand scheme, I know you don’t have a choice. I just needed to say what I said. And I need you to know that I will always have your back. No matter what. We good?”

Max smiled and nodded. “We’re good.”

Chapter 31

On Monday morning, bright and early, Boady parked in the ramp on the corner of Fourth Avenue and Fifth Street, in the very heart of the world of law enforcement. Across Fourth Avenue stood the Government Center, littered with courtrooms and prosecutors. Across Fifth Street was the jail, the building where he and Ben Pruitt were headed to see if a warrant had been issued, and if so, to surrender Ben’s freedom. And kitty-corner from the ramp was City Hall and the various investigative units including Homicide. He and Ben had to walk less than a block through the densest concentration of cops in the city without being identified. The last thing Boady wanted was a show-of-force takedown just shy of the finish line.

When they stepped out of the parking ramp, they were met by the clang of a train signal stopping them from crossing Fifth Street. The Green Line light rail was approaching from the east. Boady looked over his shoulder and saw two uniformed officers coming up behind them, about a block away. They were talking to each other and paying little mind to anyone else.

The train, three cars long, had slowed for its stop in front of City Hall. The uniformed cops were within thirty feet now.

“Don’t look behind you,” Boady whispered.

“What?” Ben started to turn but stopped himself.

“Two uniforms headed this way. Don’t let ’em see you—just in case there is a warrant out there.”

Ben nodded and stiffened a bit in his stance.

The patrolmen came to the corner where Ben and Boady stood, but instead of waiting for the train to pass, they turned west and crossed the street to the Government Center. Boady let out the breath he’d been holding. After the train passed, Boady and Ben crossed the street and strolled into the lobby of the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Office, Central Records. They approached a deputy standing beside a metal detector.

“My name is Boady Sanden, Attorney at Law.” Boady didn’t have a business card to hand to the man. “I’m here to inquire whether there is an arrest warrant out for my client, Benjamin Lee Pruitt.” Boady indicated to Ben. “And if so, we’re here to surrender him.”

The man looked at Boady, then at Ben. “Let me check on that.” He turned to a computer and typed on the keyboard. “Yep, that appears to be the case,” the deputy said. He picked up a phone and made a call.

Ben closed his eyes and Boady could hear his friend’s breathing go shallow.

“Are you ready for this?” Boady whispered.

Ben began to breathe faster. “I thought I was. Christ. You take care of Emma. Don’t let her see me on TV.”

“We’ll take care of her. Remember, don’t grin when they take the mug shot. Try to look calm, but not thug calm. Think of Emma. We’ll get you through this. Think of that. You want to look confident that your innocence will prevail. That’s the picture you want.”

Ben smiled at Boady. “I’ll do the best I can.”

“A friend of mine works for the Associated Press. He’ll tip me off on when the County Attorney’s press conference will be. I’ll be there. I’ll try and get in a few shots on your behalf.”

A second deputy with thick arms and no smile came through a door and approached Ben. “Are you Benjamin Lee Pruitt?” the man asked.

“I am,” Ben said.

“I have a warrant for your arrest on the charge of murder. Please place your hands behind your back.” Ben did as he was commanded. The deputy ratcheted a cuff around one wrist, then the other. The deputy pat-searched Ben for weapons. He and Boady both knew the drill and came prepared. Ben had nothing in his pockets except his driver’s license and $200.00 in cash.

The three deputies led Ben through the door toward the intake room where the next step of his incarceration would take place. He would be strip-searched and given an orange jumpsuit to wear. Orange socks and plastic orange sandals, too. He would be photographed and fingerprinted and locked in a cell.

Ben did not look back as they led him away.

Chapter 32

Also bright and early Monday morning, about the time that deputies were fitting Ben Pruitt with a pair of handcuffs, a mail courier dropped off a couple packages for Max and Niki. The first was the computer forensics for the laptops and cell phones belonging to both Ben and Jennavieve Pruitt. In the second package Max found twenty-eight CD-ROMs from the Illinois Department of Transportation—the tollbooth surveillance footage. Max held both packages out to Niki. “Which one do you want?”

“Tough choice. One will bore me to tears reading computer files and web histories, the other I’ll be watching cars crawl through tollbooths until I’ll want to put a bullet in my brain. Which do you want?”

“I’ll flip you for it.” Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a nickel. He tossed it into the air and slapped it to his wrist. “If it’s heads, you do the tollbooth CDs, and if it’s tails you do the computer forensic file.”

Niki nodded and Max lifted his hand to reveal Monticello. Tails. He handed Niki the pack of computer records.

“Excellent,” Niki said. “I’ve been fighting a bout of insomnia lately anyway.”

“Who said homicide investigations aren’t exciting?” Max said, dropping his packet on the desk. “I have a little errand to take care of. I’ll be back in a few.”

Niki looked at him, probably trying to figure out what he was up to. Max turned and walked away before she could read anything more from his face.

Max had never looked at his wife’s investigation file, yet he knew most of the case. Louis Parnell had a reputation for not being able to keep secrets, so Max would take Parnell out for a beer every now and again to get updates.

Jenni Rupert had been walking in a parking garage in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon. It was the ramp where she normally parked her car, a ramp used primarily by Hennepin County Medical Center, where Jenni worked as a social worker. There were no cameras in the ramp, at least back then. No one heard anything. No one saw anything.

Her body was found on the third level, the bones in her neck disjoined by a car tire. The casing from a headlight found near her body had Jenni’s blood on it, along with a serial number that told them it was a 2008 Toyota Corolla. The hit had been hard enough that yellow paint had transferred onto Jenni’s clothing. They knew the make and color of the car that killed her, but despite the nationwide search for a yellow Corolla with front-end damage, the car had never been found.

After a while, Max stopped talking to Parnell. He couldn’t stand to hear that nothing new had come up. And when Louis Parnell retired, Max tucked his hopes away. He wasn’t allowed to touch the file, and Parnell’s replacement didn’t have Jenni’s case on his list. The powers that be had decided that the time had come for Jenni Rupert’s file to be tucked away in the archive room.

When Max stopped walking, he looked up to find himself at the door to the archive room.

He glanced down the hall in both directions before entering. Even though he often found the need to visit the archive room as part of an investigation, this time he felt like a thief. He walked in and nodded to a man with gray hair and a thick mustache, who Max knew as Felix.

“Morning, Detective.”

“Morning, Felix. I need to see a cold file.”

“Sure thing. You got a number?”

Max read off the ICR number for his wife’s file. He’d memorized it back when Parnell had the case.

Felix came out with the file in a red rope folder about three inches thick, thicker than he’d expected.

“You going to read it here?”

“No. I’ll be taking it with me.” Max smiled as he talked. He looked at Felix’s eyes, searching for any recognition. He waited for Felix to stop him from taking a file that he was forbidden to have.

Felix said nothing.

Max signed for the file. Then he tucked it under his arm and said good-bye to Felix.

Chapter 33

Boady drove home from the jail using back streets that would take him past parks and cemeteries and tree-lined boulevards. He rolled his window down and breathed in the scent of recently mowed lawns and oak leaves. The smell cooled the blood that pulsed in his temples. Emma would be awake by now, rising from a bed that would be hers until her father returned. That might happen in a matter of hours, or it could be months—or, if Boady didn’t have it in his bones to be the lawyer he used to be, it could be never. Boady fought to keep that thought at bay.

He stopped off at a grocery store along the way to buy food and supplies for Emma. He and Diana had never had children. It was just one of those things. Now Boady walked through the store, looking at items on the shelf and wondering what, if any of it, a ten-year-old girl might want. He spent more time in the cereal aisle than ever before, trying to remember the cereals he coveted as a child, cereals that were too expensive to make it into his mother’s cupboard. He bought sweet-scented shampoo and juice boxes and prepacked meals that came in brightly colored boxes. In truth, he had no idea what he was doing.

He pulled into his driveway, parked close to his kitchen door, and grabbed a handful of grocery bags to take inside. When he went outside for his second load of groceries, he saw a man walking up his drive. He’d never seen the man before, tall, handsome, with a jersey-beauhunk slickness about him.

“Are you Boady Sanden?” the man asked.