Code 61 - Donald Harstad [150]
There was a deputy waiting for me. “We have a number for you to call,” she said. “I guess it's pretty urgent.” She ushered me into a private oiffce.
My first thought was that something had happened to either Sue or our daughter, Jane. I needn't have worried. The number she handed me was for Hester's cell phone.
“Gorse,” answered Hester.
“Houseman here. How was the big house?”
“Great, but later, right now you should know that they've located Jessica's silver 2000 Mercedes Benz SUV. It's been abandoned, in a place called Capron, Illinois.” “Where's that from Nation County?” I asked. I'd never heard of the place.
“Well, just a sec,” she said, and I could hear paper rustling. Her map. “Okay, it's southwest of Lake Geneva, and northeast of Rockford. About thirty road miles from here.”
“So, he's not headed toward Nation County?”
“Don't bet on it,” she said. “The car was abandoned at a used car lot, and the owner is checking right now on whether or not he's missing a car. There's also a good chance he's headed home to Moline. Jessica apparently told him we were here, asking questions.”
“Oh.”
“There's absolutely no doubt that he had it. Jessica told us that she'd 'left the keys in the car' and he took it.”
“That's cute,” I said. “Nice dodge.”
“Shit, Houseman, her local attorney was there. She's hell on wheels, and she has just about every base in the world covered. She denies knowing how Peale got to Lake Geneva. We didn't reveal Tatiana to her, just asked how he'd gotten her car, and led into it.” Hester sounded disgusted. “We got to her twice, though. I think she's finally getting really worried. And her aunt seemed to be a bit pissed off at her by the time we were done.”
“Cool.”
“Tell you what we'll do,” she said. “You continue on, and if we get a make on a missing car from that lot in Capron, we'll have them tell you by radio. Just so you know as soon as possible.”
“Right. Hey, Hester?”
“Yes?”
“If you do the brunch again tomorrow, could you bring me a doggy bag?”
I was about twenty miles east of the Mississippi and Nation County when Wisconsin State Radio contacted me again. They gave me a simple message. I was to be looking for a blue '96 Honda four-door. It had no plates, naturally, since it was stolen off a sales lot. The keys, according to the dispatcher, had been under the floor mat. No direction of travel was given, for the obvious reason that nobody knew one. I just had to assume he was headed our way.
I checked in with Dispatch in Nation County at 22:44 hours. The dispatcher, Norma, the new one, said I was to contact Borman via radio immediately. I did, and he asked me to meet him at the foot of the Mansion driveway.
The rain was steady as I got out of the car. Not hard, just one of those long, drawn-out rains that come in October, putting the last nail in summer's ciffin, and giving us our first taste of the cold that was to come in the next few months. It was about forty degrees, or so, but felt much colder. I hurried across the soaked gravel road to Borman's squad car, carrying my green rubber raincoat. It's impossible to put the things on in a car, and by the time I would have gotten it on, I knew I'd already be in Borman's squad. I was startled when Sally just about knocked me over when she opened the front passenger door.
“You get in front, you'll never fit behind the cage,” she said, and scurried past me to open the back door and squeeze in to the backseat. She left the back door open a crack, so she could get out without having somebody open it from the outside. There are no door handles on the inside of the back doors in a squad car. Makes it harder for prisoners to escape.
I dropped into the front passenger seat, knocking my left knee against the damned radio console, which was angled away for the driver, and encroached on the passenger's leg room. I shut the door.
“Shit weather,” I said. “What's up?”
“What are we doing here?” asked Borman. “We can't see crap,