First, Kill the Lawyers, page 20
I sat in one of Alex’s chairs. It seemed very big. Or maybe I was feeling very small. Clark Peterson had lied to me, no surprise there. But John Kaushal, too? Peterson obviously told him about his affair with Melissa. The information must have been in the notes that were stolen.
I asked myself, what else don’t you know? The words seemed tiny when I uttered them aloud. “The Todd Kendrick rape…”
“He’s my stepbrother,” Hayley said. “Only no one knows that. Kurtis got this college girl pregnant like twenty years ago. He didn’t want to marry her, or at least Stepfather didn’t want him to marry her. Instead, to avoid a scandal and because Stepfather told him to, Kurt agreed to pay her off. Not a lump sum, though. A salary instead. That way the Guernseys had control over her life in case she should change her mind. Kurt deposited money into her bank account at Minnesota River every month as long as she kept quiet about his son. Then Todd was accused of rape, and his mother—what was her name? Diane?”
“Dana,” I said.
“Dana said she didn’t have the money to defend Todd in court, but Kurtis did. The blackmailing began at the same time because there were pictures. Todd had taken selfies of him raping that poor girl. The old man was apoplectic, but he told Kurtis to both help Dana and pay the blackmailer. He thought paying up was better than having his bastard grandson go to prison and maybe having his name dragged into it, screw the victim.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? Is that all you have to say?”
“Why didn’t you send it all to NIMN like you promised in the emails?”
“Because Sean betrayed me, I told you. Once he hacked the information, he decided to use it to blackmail the family. I found out at dinner Saturday night. Each one of them—Stepfather, Robert Jr., Kurtis, Melissa—each one of them received an email telling them to pay up or else. Oh my God, Taylor, it was awful. They were so angry. Remember at the Library when you said I made people angry enough to kill? I just sat there shaking. My mother looked at me and said, ‘Honey, are you all right?’ and I’m like, ‘Are you kidding, Mother?’ I was terrified that they would find out it was me. I left that night. I threw some clothes in my backpack and ran out of the house. They didn’t even realize it until two days later. At least that’s when I started getting texts asking where I was.
“I went to find Sean. I wanted to make him stop what he was doing. He wouldn’t listen to me. He reminded me that I had started all this to hurt my family. He said, what better way to hurt them than to take their money. But that’s not—that’s not what I wanted. I just wanted to—I wanted the world to know the truth. This was … blackmail was—I wanted no part of it. I pretended that it was okay, though, that I was okay with it, and Sean fucked me that night, and when he went to sleep, I stole the files.
“Sean told me … I don’t know anything about computers, Taylor. I thought if you downloaded something onto your computer it was there forever. What Sean said, he said even if the lawyers had deleted the emails and notes and things, he would still be able to find them. But then he told me that he had managed to put all of the lawyers’ stuff on a single thumb drive so if the cops came they wouldn’t be able to find the illegal stuff on his own computer. I guess that was something he did while he was stealing people’s identities, covering his tracks. Anyway, he must have been telling the truth, because when I ran out with his flash drive, he started chasing me. Why would he do that if he had a backup?”
“You didn’t go home,” I reminded her.
“I was afraid.”
“You didn’t upload the information on NIMN, either.”
“I was afraid. I guess I didn’t really appreciate what would happen until I saw how the family reacted to the blackmail. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You sent emails to the lawyers,” I said.
“No, I didn’t. That must have been Sean trying to blackmail them just like he was attempting to blackmail my family. Later—I waited a week, Taylor, an entire week of doing nothing except being afraid, of talking to no one but myself. I finally decided if I uploaded the information, if I gave it to NIMN, there would be nothing to blackmail anyone with. It would all be out there like I had originally wanted, no reason to pay anyone anything. Only I didn’t have a computer. I threw clothes into my backpack, grabbed my phone, but I forgot all about my laptop. I thought about buying one, but I didn’t really have a place to set it up. Finally, when I was ready, I went to the Library because I used to hang out there all the time and I knew they had free computers. Except Sean stopped me. And then you.”
“Okay.”
“You keep saying that.”
“C’mon, kid. Give me a minute to think.”
“What’s there to think about? You were hired to stop me from going to NIMN. Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Stop me.”
“Could you just relax for a second?”
Hayley pulled away from Alex and stood directly in front of me, both of her fists clenched.
“What are you going to do?” she said.
“I don’t know. Alex, what should I do?”
“I bought a bottle of that bourbon you like,” she said.
“Now there’s a thought.”
Hayley lowered her voice. “What are you going to do?” she asked again.
“Have a drink. Do you like bourbon? Normally, I wouldn’t offer given your tender age, but honestly, I don’t know of anyone who needs it more.”
* * *
We ended up sitting around Alex’s kitchen table.
“I don’t want you to upload the files on NIMN,” I said. “Partly it’s because I was hired to stop you from doing just that. But mostly, Hayley, mostly it’s because we might need the leverage those files can provide. Like you said, knowledge is power. Let’s keep as much of it as possible for now.”
“For now?”
“Promise me. Promise you won’t take your information to NIMN until I say it’s okay.”
“I promise.”
“Then I promise to get you out of this mess.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet. So far I’ve been making this up as I go along. Give me your cell phone.”
“My cell phone?”
“Please.”
“You want to keep me from calling for help.”
“No, Hayley. I want to keep the bad guys from tracking you by your GPS.”
“I disabled that the first thing. I’m not stupid.”
“Did you also do that with your BMW? Do you even know how?”
The question seemed to surprise her.
“I didn’t think of that,” she said. “Do you think that’s how they found me at the Library and yesterday at the park?”
“It’s possible.”
Hayley slid her phone across the table, but she did it reluctantly.
“If you need to get ahold of me, tell Alex,” I said.
“I only have one class on Tuesdays, and I’ll cancel it so I can spend the entire day with you,” Alex said.
Hayley looked as if she might start crying again, so I finished my bourbon and stood up.
“I better leave,” I said. “Wait. One more piece of business. The mayor of the City of Minneapolis said she’d be happy to be your best friend forever if you promised to be hers.”
“What does that mean?” Hayley asked.
“What do you think it means?”
“Tell her to go to hell.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I was paid to deliver a message. Message delivered. Moving on.”
Alex walked me to the door. When we reached it, she said, “Thanks for the surprise. It’s what I’ve always wanted.”
“I owe you.”
“Yes, you do. I might even make you take me dancing.”
“Don’t let Hayley anywhere near a computer.”
“She said she wouldn’t upload the files. Don’t you trust her?”
“About as much as she trusts me. Just keep an eye on her.”
Hayley called to us from the kitchen.
“You know, I can hear you,” she said.
“I’m trying to save your life at considerable risk to myself, my partner and his family, what few friends I have left, and my business. Please don’t make it harder than it already is. Did you hear that?”
She hesitated before answering. “Yes.”
“Do I get a kiss good-bye?” Alex asked.
I answered with my lips.
“How ’bout me?” Hayley asked.
“Good night, Hayley,” I said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The police pounded on my door at seven thirty in the morning like I thought they might. I had just finished my run and greeted them in jogging shorts and a T-shirt. Only it wasn’t cops from the City of Mound or deputies from the Hennepin County Sheriff’s Department. Instead, it was Detectives Weiss and Manske of the St. Paul PD. When I opened the door, they stepped inside the apartment without asking permission and began glancing around as if they expected to see a meth lab set up next to my refrigerator.
“Something I can help you with?” I asked.
“We searched James Cowgill’s place,” Weiss said. “Guess what we didn’t find. We didn’t find a computer, a cell phone, or a camera. If it wasn’t for the power cords that were left behind, we wouldn’t have known he even owned a computer, cell phone, or camera.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?” Weiss turned to his partner. “Did you hear that? He said ‘Oh.’”
“I heard him,” Manske said.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked.
“Where the hell are the kid’s computer, cell phone, and camera?” Weiss said.
“How would I know?”
“Are you saying you don’t know who took them?”
“I don’t know who took them.”
“Guess.”
“I can’t.”
Weiss turned to his partner again. “He said he can’t.”
“I heard that, too,” Manske said.
“Taylor, you said there were photos.”
“I suggested that there were photos.”
“The photos are missing.”
“I gathered that.”
“Who was in the photos? What were they doing in the photos?”
“I’ve never seen the photos.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I flashed on Douglas Jernigan and what he told me in no uncertain terms.
“That’s a line I can’t cross,” I said. “I want to, believe me. You have no idea how much I want to. I’ve already told you more than the law allows.”
“Taylor—”
“I can’t. At least not yet.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Not yet? Are we supposed to cool our jets while you wrestle with some sort of ethical dilemma?”
“It has nothing to do with ethics.”
“What, then?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Look, we know you’re tight with the assistant chief, worked homicide with her back in the day. I’m guessing it was you who told Scalasi to tell us to look into Cowgill’s finances. Am I right? If you want to tell her on the down low…”
“I can’t.”
“Taylor, it’s murder.”
“You wouldn’t even have known that much if I hadn’t told you.”
“You think that makes you a hero?”
Ogilvy bounded into the room. Weiss stared down at the gray-and-white French lop-ear. For a moment, I thought he meant to kick him.
“Where I come from, you know what we do with rabbits?” he asked. “We eat them.”
Ogilvy must have been as distressed by the sound of Weiss’s voice as I was, because he turned and quickly hopped away.
“Now you’ve hurt both of our feelings,” I said.
Manske slid between me and Weiss.
“We’ll give you a couple days,” he said.
“What do you mean, you’ll give me a couple days?”
“Forty-eight hours. See, I think you want to tell us what we want to know, but you can’t without screwing over your client. I get that, Taylor. I really do. So we’ll give you forty-eight hours from right now to figure it out. Cowgill’s still down at 300 University Avenue.” 300 University Avenue is the address of the Ramsey County Medical Examiner’s Office in St. Paul. “He’s not going anywhere.”
“What happens after forty-eight hours if I don’t deliver?” I asked.
“I don’t know. We’ll take a couple days to think about it.”
* * *
The knock on the door came so quickly after the cops left that I figured they must have forgotten something. Another threat left unspoken, perhaps. It was Claire, though, and that made me wonder if she had known the police were in my apartment and had been waiting for them to leave. She was wearing a white shirt under a blue vest that matched her skirt, and I said she looked great. She ignored the compliment.
“He came back,” Claire said.
“Who?”
“That man from the other day, something Peterson.”
“Clark Peterson?”
“I saw him drive by while I was waiting with Mandy for the school bus. He slowed down so I could see him.”
“Are you sure?”
“I remembered the car. Purple convertible.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll look into it.”
“Why is he hanging around?”
“He’s trying to annoy me. Guess what? It’s working.”
* * *
After Claire left, I inspected Hayley’s phone. The ringer had been turned off, so I hadn’t noticed that she received five calls and seven texts. The first came at eleven the night before and the last just twenty minutes earlier. All of the calls were from Maura O’Brien. Apparently Hayley had refused to list her mother as a Guernsey on her contacts list.
I called Alex using my own phone. “How’s it going?” I asked.
“Very well. Hayley is a sweet girl, and I like her very much.”
“Sweet?”
“She’s been on the defensive every day for the past twelve years. Give her a chance to relax and be herself with someone she likes and trusts and she’s simply delightful.”
“Likes and trusts? Alex”—I glanced at my watch—“it’s been less than twelve hours.”
“I can’t help it if I bring out the best in people. What do you want, anyway?”
“Just checking in. Do you have plans?”
“We’re going shopping, going to lunch, making it a girls’ day out. I told Hayley not to worry about a single thing, that you would take care of it.”
“I would prefer that you stay close to home while I do.”
“If anyone ever needed a break, it’s her.”
Since Hayley started all of this out of anger, I wasn’t sure I agreed. Still …
“Let me speak to her,” I said.
A moment later Hayley was on the phone.
“Good morning, Holland,” she said.
I couldn’t remember telling her my first name. “What else did Alex tell you about me?” I asked.
“You really did have a daughter. I’m sorry about what happened to her and your wife. I know, I really do know, how hard that must have been. How hard it must still be.”
“Thank you. Listen, your mother seems desperate to reach you. She’s called and texted a total of twelve times since last night.”
“Do me a favor. Swipe left.”
“Hayley—”
“My mother doesn’t love me, Taylor.”
I thought of all the mothers I’ve known, starting with my own and ending with Claire Wedemeyer.
“I find that hard to believe,” I said.
“So do I.”
“If I run into her, do you want me to deliver a message?”
“Tell her—tell her if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t have gotten the tattoos.”
Whatever that meant.
* * *
I was surprised when I found the door locked. For the first time in a week I had beaten Freddie into the office. I used my key to unlock it. The door swung open to the left. I took one step inside the office and saw a tall man on my right. He was young, about twenty-five, and dressed in a suit. He was also pointing a gun at my head.
“Don’t move,” he said, so I didn’t.
Behind him I could see Freddie sitting at his desk. He was grinning as if the surprised look on my face was worth the price of admission.
“You have no idea how disappointed I am in you right now,” I said.
“Me?”
“Letting this punk get the drop on you.”
“I was distracted.”
“By what?”
“Please close the door,” a woman said.
When I did, I discovered her standing on the left side of the office near my desk. I knew immediately that she was Maura Guernsey. Brooke St. Vincent had called her “stunning.” The first word that came to my mind was “startling.” Her appearance was startling and dramatic in the same way that Grace Kelly, Elizabeth Taylor, Vivien Leigh, Marilyn Monroe, Michelle Pfeiffer, Catherine Deneuve, Charlize Theron, and Hedy Lamarr were startling and dramatic.
I turned to look at Freddie.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll give you this one.”
He spread his hands wide as if he expected nothing less.
The gunman had moved against the wall. I noticed for the first time that the curtain had been drawn over our bulletin board, keeping the index cards and red yarn from prying eyes. I figured that Freddie must have done it before opening the door to Maura and her boy-toy.
The gunman kept pointing his piece at me, but he was now in a position where he could cover Freddie, too, if Freddie made any sudden movements. I pivoted back toward Maura. I pretended that I didn’t know her name.
“What can we do for you?” I asked.
“Where’s my daughter?”
I threw a thumb at the gunman. “Missing persons is one of the things we do for a living,” I said. “You don’t have to threaten us to look for your kid. Just offer money.”
The gunman moved up behind me and pressed the muzzle of his weapon against the base of my neck.
