I WOKE WITH A SEARING HEADACHE. I vaguely recalled Serena sitting on the edge of my bed during the night. I picked up my cell phone and noticed a text from her, which read, “Next time we’re alone together—manja.”
I had to find out what “manja” meant. I called a coworker at the BCA in Minneapolis who took pride in interpreting foreign words exactly how they are used in a specific culture. I told him it wasn’t work-related, but I’d appreciate the help when he had time. He had already heard I’d been shot and asked if I was okay. I appreciated the camaraderie or, as Serena might say, espirit de corps, among the people I worked with. In a manner of minutes, I received a text from my colleague, saying, “‘Manja is a Malaysian word that refers to playfully provocative love.” It brought a painful smile to my face. I could use some manja.
TONY CALLED TO TELL ME I could put my mind at ease. They had apprehended a convicted sex offender named Jeff Lemor who lived by Hillman. The dirt road by the Brennan farm was a shortcut from Little Falls to Hillman. Further, Jeff’s probation officer verified that the “R” was missing on the tailgate of Jeff’s truck, making Jeff the man the Bosers had seen driving toward Brittany Brennan. Jeff also had a prior probation violation for being a felon in possession of a gun. Tony told me Jeff took off running into the woods when the squad cars arrived, but the police hunted him down with search dogs. One of the officers was convinced Jeff was holding a gun to his side, but didn’t actually see it. When he was finally captured, Lemor was weaponless. So, the officers had a day of searching ahead of them. Jeff insisted he was at home by himself at the time I was shot. Tony told me Jeff’s truck engine was still hot when they arrived. Jeff claimed he had been working on it. He had no one to corroborate his alibi.
I had a lot of questions, starting with, “Any idea why he tried to kill me?”
Tony exhaled loudly into the phone. “He must have thought you were onto something. Do you have any recollection of seeing him? He’s about six-three, twenty-six years old, with longish black hair and a few days’ growth of beard. Skinny, but wiry strong.”
“No, I didn’t see the shooter,” I answered, which was met with a frustrated sigh from Tony. I thought out loud, “Killing isn’t this guy’s primary goal. If it was, Brittany and I wouldn’t still be alive—he kills to cover up. I want to get back to working this.”
“Sit tight. For now, the best thing you can do for this investigation is heal. I don’t anticipate you’ll be back to work in the next few days.”
BY THE TIME MY CONVERSATION with Tony was over, I felt weak and drifted back to sleep.
Dad came in to check on me and asked if I needed anything. I told him I was going back to Minneapolis tomorrow, so we had a discussion about making my apartment safe. Dad obliged me, because he believed I was happier off the farm. He told me to give him the day, and my apartment would be ready by tomorrow evening. He and friends planned to install solid oak doors on my bathroom and bedroom. They would reinforce the frames around the doors with metal plates and put a solid bolt lock on the doors. This would mean that, if I was locked in my bedroom, an intruder would have to go through the wall to enter. Having a secure door from the hall to both my bathroom and bedroom allowed me to keep the door between the two rooms open at night, without having to mess with locks.
When I finally made my way downstairs, Mom was holding paint samples against our kitchen blinds and asking for Serena’s opinion on the colors. Praying and painting rooms were Mom’s go-to moves when she was stressed. I was trying to ignore the radiating pain from my hand. Instead of taking my pain pill, I had settled on naproxen, as I wanted to stay alert.
Mom held out a bright orange color chip and asked, “Jon, what do you think?”
I grimaced and said, “I think this kitchen has been repainted so many times, it’s starting to affect the square footage of this house.”
Mom smiled and muttered, “You’re a lot of help. Are you feeling okay?”
“I just need to sit for a little bit.” I meandered into the living room and sat on the couch.
Serena smiled as she stepped around the corner. Like an embarrassed, love-struck teenager, I found myself stumbling over my words as I greeted her. Serena was an enticing work of art. She wore a teal t-shirt that featured thickets of briar shaped into a heart. Her full lips were highlighted by a sheer plum lip stain and looked luscious. I wanted to feel her soft embrace again, but all of those thoughts left my brain and came out as, “Nice shirt.”
“It’s just something I picked up on sale,” Serena said with a playful curtsy. “How are you?”
I softly told her, “Okay. Thanks for being here. If you need to head back to work, I understand.”
“No, I’m okay. I like the idea of spending the day with you.” Serena glanced back out of the living room to make sure Mom wasn’t in earshot. Serena shared, “I thought I saw Mandy Baker at the Mall of America a couple of years ago. I yelled her name and the woman looked at me but then disappeared.”
“Did you really think it was Mandy?”
“No. I don’t know why I thought I’d be able to recognize her now, even if she is alive. I think the woman left because I was staring at her. I probably scared the hell out of her.” Serena nervously twirled her hair around her index finger as she revealed, “I was thinking about Mandy, because I was thinking about you.” She studied my battered face in silence for a moment before continuing. “Your mom mentioned you used to date that reporter, Jada. Why did you break up?”
“I want to a have a child. Jada doesn’t.” I thought I saw a slight smile playing at the corners of Serena’s mouth.
Serena took my good hand. “That can be a tall order. I’d like children, too, but what if I found out I couldn’t have one?”
“You don’t have to make them; they’re everywhere.”
Serena chided me. “Yeah, I could just steal one.”
“Working investigations has put me in contact with a lot of unwanted kids. They don’t have to be babies.”
Serena moved closer to me. “Okay, that was definitely the right answer. I still feel like you’re the only one who ever honestly understood me. If we’re headed where I think we are, maybe we should start with a real date,” she smiled.
The floorboards announced that Mom was casually meandering closer, pretending to adjust a picture as she listened in.
Not certain if Serena noticed her, I decided to change the topic. “I think it’s time for a funny story.”
Serena was already smiling. “That would be perfect.”
“Okay, when I pulled into the law enforcement center last week, I saw a guy crawling into his trunk. He told me none of the handles in his car worked anymore, so the trunk was the only way in and out of the car. Then he added, ‘It’s really embarrassing getting groceries, but my girlfriend is pretty understanding of it.’”
Serena laughed out loud. “I wouldn’t go anywhere with a guy who expected that of me.”
I teased her, saying, “Come on, just get in the trunk.”
Trying unsuccessfully to compose herself, Serena said, “I don’t remember the last time I’ve giggled like this!”
“I suggested to the guy, ‘Maybe it’s time to get a new car.’ He told me, ‘Are you kidding? This is a Mustang!’”
“Well, if I would have known it was a Mustang . . .” With a contented sigh, Serena put her hand on my leg. “I should be cheering you up.”
Mom peeked in at us. Uninterested in my story, she turned and went upstairs.
Serena stood up for a moment, then pulled her hair into a ponytail. “Can we talk about Mandy Baker?”
I always enjoyed watching Serena put her hair back. It reminded me of how naturally beautiful she was. I still trusted her, so I shared my thoughts about Mandy Baker’s disappearance.
Serena was intrigued. “Who do you suspect?”
“Mandy used to flirt with a group of guys who played Texas Hold’em at her house on Monday nights, but there was nothing about those guys in the cold case file. They all had nicknames— Chino, Sliver, Whitey, Onion, and ‘Say Hey’ Ray. Over the past years, I think I’ve hunted them all down.”
I ticked them off one-by-one on my fingers. “Chino was actually Native, but got the nickname from the crew’s racial ignorance. He was in Mandan, North Dakota, when Mandy disappeared. Sliver was a meth addict. It took a bit of work, but I eventually found some guys who partied and crashed with Sliver on the night Mandy disappeared, so I was able to rule him out. I’m not one hundred percent certain I got the right Whitey, though. There’s an abundance of guys nicknamed ‘Whitey’ in rural Minnesota. The most likely candidate was a toe-head named Joey Gilbert, who was killed driving drunk five years ago. I never found anyone who was with Joey the night Mandy disappeared. He lived by himself in a trailer, and was probably just home alone. He was a very relaxed, pot-smoking dude. I haven’t cleared him, but he doesn’t seem right for it. It took me years to find Onion. He wasn’t around as much.”
Serena commented dryly, “Imagine writing a wedding invitation to, ‘Onion and guest.’”
“Onion was a paraplegic who was in bad health and didn’t drive. He couldn’t have picked Mandy up. All of these guys are criminals, and none of them will talk to the police. So, I’m stuck. I may need to eventually talk to Say Hey Ray Benson. Even though Ray’s been cleared as a suspect, because he was in jail that night, he might have insight into other unsavory characters who hung around their house back then.”
When Serena was perplexed, she got two little creases between her eyebrows. I had forgotten how cute that made her look. She asked, “Why would Say Hey Ray help you?”
“He’s in prison in Florida,” I explained, “and it may look good for him in front of the parole board.”
“Jon, I want to help.” Her face softened and there was sadness in her eyes as she said, “Remember, I went through this, too.”