The road to New Richmond, Wisconsin, began for us back at the Cretin-Vandalia entrance ramp, where I regained I-94 and went east until we encountered I-35E and went north. At Highway 36 we drove east toward Wisconsin. Bobby didn’t have much to say except “Nina’s mad at you now. That’s on me. Tell her I’ll make it up to her.”
“Oh?” I said. “Are you going to take her dancing?”
He didn’t say if he would or wouldn’t. I had the hockey game on the radio. The Wild rallied to beat the Maple Leafs in a shootout. Bobby didn’t have anything to say about that either.
“Why are we doing this?” I asked.
We were fast approaching the St. Croix Crossing, the bridge over the St. Croix River that connected Minnesota to Wisconsin.
“That young woman, Kayla…”
“Kayla Janas,” I said.
“She was so sure. So specific, telling me where Ruth Nowak was. There was no hemming and hawing, no probing to see if anything she said resonated.”
“Did anything resonate?”
“Robert Nowak, Ruth’s husband, has a receptionist working in his office. Molly Finnegan. She lives in New Richmond on a forty-acre alpaca farm.”
“Alpaca?”
“You know, like llamas.”
“I know what they are.”
“Finnegan has a side hustle selling alpaca fleece. She has pictures of her animals on her desk.”
“Let me guess—she’s also young and pretty.”
“No, she isn’t. She’s over fifty and looks it. Also, there wasn’t any history of calls from Nowak to her cell, work phone, or landline. That’s why it didn’t click that she and Robert might have had a relationship beyond employee-employer.”
“’Course, this doesn’t answer my original question,” I said. “Why are we doing this? You don’t believe any of this psychic-medium crap.”
“It’s just a feeling I have. McKenzie, c’mon. Half the decisions you make are based on feelings that you have. Give me this one.”
“Okay, but why do we have to explore your feelings in the dead of night? Why can’t you do it with your team tomorrow morning?”
“I don’t mind looking ridiculous in front of you.”
“I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”
Once we crossed the bridge, Minnesota State Highway 36 became Wisconsin State Highway 64. We followed it through the town of Somerset, passing softball fields where we once competed in a tournament when we were kids. I mentioned them to Bobby, but he was busy working the case.
About forty-five minutes after we started, we reached the outskirts of New Richmond. Bobby used the GPS app on his phone to direct me north after we passed the municipal golf course, then west, north, east, and north again. We slowly passed a farmhouse sitting on a high hill. After a half mile, Bobby had me stop on the narrow shoulder of a country road. There were no lights to be seen, only the flickering stars in a brilliant night sky.
“Look at this.” Bobby showed me a satellite image of the area on his smartphone. “This is Molly’s farm. Her house, some kind of a barn, pond, wooded area, fence.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Follow this fence here. That’s the neighbor’s property. Follow it to the far corner here. Cross under the fence over to the wooded area. See what’s there. Do you have a flashlight?”
“I do.”
“Don’t use it unless you have to. Try to keep the beam low.”
“Bobby, why me?”
“Do I need to explain the rules of evidence to you? I can’t search this woman’s property without a warrant.”
“So get a warrant.”
“Based on what? A psychic medium’s vision? Get up the hill, McKenzie.”
“Bobby, look at me. I’m dressed to go dancing.”
“Whose fault is that? Get going. Oh, and leave your keys so I can start the car if it gets cold.”
There was snow and ice in New Richmond. Not a lot, but enough to make my dress shoes inadequate for the task of following the fence line for a half mile. They made a disconcerting crunching sound as I walked on the frozen grass.
It was all of fifteen degrees above zero, and it didn’t take long before my feet became cold, followed by my legs beneath the thin dress pants. I was wearing a sports jacket beneath a gray trench coat, so there was that. And gloves. Yet I wasn’t wearing a hat, and by the time I reached the corner of the property my ears were numb. I was also breathing harder than you’d expect from the short distance I traveled. I was sure the puffs of breath escaping into the night sky must look like smoke signals to anyone watching.
The fence consisted of three horizontal strands of heavy barbless wire, and I wondered if it was electrified. I reached out and gently tapped the top wire. I wasn’t immediately electrocuted, so I tried again, holding it longer this time, prepared to feel a painful electric shock that didn’t come. Satisfied, I slipped between two of the strands and made my way to the wooded area.
It was darker there; the light from the stars overhead had a difficult time penetrating. Plus, it was quiet. The only sounds I heard were made by me.
I moved slowly from tree to tree, seeing very little. I flicked on my flash, pointed the beam at the ground, saw nothing but shallow snow, grass, and trees, turned it off, and kept moving until I reached the far edge of the tree line. The pond was located at the bottom of a gentle slope; the frozen water reflected the stars like a mirror. Beyond the pond was Molly Finnegan’s farmhouse. I didn’t see any lights burning in the windows, yet decided not to take any chances and slowly backed into the woods.
Again I used the flash, holding it close, my body positioned between the light and the farmhouse, as I chose a path among the trees. I flicked the light off and continued exploring.
I walked carefully, the way a blind man might in unfamiliar country. It was because I was being so careful that I didn’t trip when the toe of my right foot caught on something. At first, I thought it was a tree root. When I turned on my flash, I saw that it was a shovel with a pointed tip made for digging. Next to the shovel was a purple-and-gold quilt rolled up around what I knew was Ruth Nowak’s body. Both the shovel and the body were pushed up against two trees. Even in broad daylight they would have been difficult to find.
I wrapped my hand over the business end of the flash so that only a tiny bit of light could escape and squatted down next to the quilt. After a moment, I turned it off entirely, hoping the beam hadn’t alerted anyone like, I don’t know, the bitch who lived in the farmhouse on the hill overlooking the wooded area. Of course she was a bitch. She helped murder Ruth. At least, she helped the boyfriend dispose of the body.
It was obvious what had happened, too. Robert Nowak and Molly Finnegan had carried Ruth up to the wooded area where they planned on burying her. Only the damn ground was frozen, so they had just dumped her there, probably thinking they could finish the job come spring.
“I’m sorry, Ruth.”
’Course, I didn’t know her, any more than I knew her husband or Molly. She might have been a terrible human being. Only, she had deserved better than this.
God rest her soul, I thought.
Except her soul isn’t resting, is it? my inner voice suggested. Not if it’s following homicide cops around and making itself known to psychic mediums that would be better off worrying about their college classes and not talking to the dead.
“Jesus,” I said aloud.
I stood slowly and edged away from the body. I hadn’t touched the quilt or the shovel, and I hoped my wanderings wouldn’t confuse the crime scene guys when they came to investigate. My intention was to make my way through the woods back to the fence.
The noise stopped me—a crunching sound of someone walking on the frozen grass and snow.
I remained still.
The crunching sound was on my right.
I listened hard, tilting my head in that direction.
It stopped.
Next I heard it on my left.
My head turned toward it even as my hand moved to my hip. Only, I was unarmed. I had hoped to go dancing with my girlfriend, after all, not search a dark grove for the body of a murdered woman.
The crunching sound on my left slowly circled me until it was on my right side again.
It grew louder before stopping altogether.
I flicked on my flashlight and pointed it at the noise.
I was startled enough by what I saw that I nearly cried out.
Two alpacas were staring back at me with huge brown eyes.
They were just over three feet tall with long necks that made them look bigger.
One was rust colored. The other looked like a pile of dirty snow.
“Fucking scared the hell outta me,” I said.
They hummed at me like polite cows. It was such a soothing sound, I nearly apologized to them.
Then I thought, Do they bite?
I started backing away from them just in case.
“Nice alpacas,” I said.
I flicked off the light, quickly returned to the fence, and slipped back through the two heavy wire strands. The alpacas followed me, until they were stopped by the fence. For a moment they reminded me of bored dogs looking for a pat.
“’Night, fellas,” I said and started following the fence line back toward my Mustang parked on the country road.
I climbed inside the car and slid behind the steering wheel. The car was running. I hadn’t realized how cold I was until I felt the warmth of the heater.
Bobby had been working his smartphone. He slid it into his pocket. “Well?” he said.
“I was nearly assaulted by two giant alpacas.”
“Alpacas are among the gentlest creatures on earth. They have them in petting zoos, for God’s sake.”
“If you say so.”
“What did you find?”
“Mrs. Nowak is there, wrapped in her purple-and-gold quilt just like Kayla said. They left her against the side of a couple of trees because the ground was too frozen to bury her.”
Bobby stared at me for a few beats. Either he thought I was kidding him or he was having a difficult time digesting the news.
Finally he said, “She was telling the truth, then. Kayla Janas. She actually knew. How is that possible?”
“Kayla said that Ruth told her where we should look.”
“How is that possible?” Bobby shook his head as if he needed to dislodge a thought. “When she told me about Mrs. Nowak, my first impulse was to slap her in the mouth. I had this feeling, though—something told me I needed to be here. Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”
“I’m starting to.”
“We can’t tell anyone about this,” Bobby said. “Can you imagine what the assistant county attorney would say? I’ll have to find a way to connect Finnegan with Nowak and use that to get a warrant to search her property. Dammit. How is this possible?”
“I don’t know. If one thing is true, though, does that mean all the other things they’ve been saying are true as well?”
“You’re asking me, after the speech I gave Hannah Braaten in my living room?”
I put the Mustang in gear and started working my way back toward St. Paul. We didn’t have much more to say to each other until we reached the St. Croix Crossing.
“Hey, Bobby,” I said, “I did you a favor. Now you need to do one for me.”
“What?”
“Tell me where I can find Ryan Hayes.”