Killer Dreams Ch. 26-30

HONK!

I looked up, seeing I was drifting into the fast lane with a car already there. I moved back, waving an apology to the guy in the truck I'd almost hit. I needed to keep my head in the game.

I only had eight years on the Saint Paul Police Force, and I wasn't even thirty yet. I did like my job, and I was good at it. I could make a lateral transfer if the Duluth Police or another agency up here would take me. I knew a few people who did just that, leaving the toxic situation after the riots behind for small towns and departments. My retirement was in a state-sponsored plan, not a city one. Transferring wouldn't affect my retirement at all. The pay wouldn't be as much, nor would there be the amount of crime in a big city.

I checked my phone messages on my first stop for gas near Hinckley since I'd left it in my car all weekend. My partner sent me a text last night; he'd followed up on the burner phone trail and found nothing. Mom called twice, so I called her back when I was on the road again. "Hi, Mom, what's happening?"

"Talia! I was worried about you when you didn't call me back!"

"I'm sorry. I was on a mini-vacation on the North Shore and didn't want work distracting me. I'm on my way home now."

"Can you come over? I'm making tater tot hotdish."

"Sorry, Mom. I need to change clothes and go to work. I was lucky to get Saturday off."

"That's too bad, honey. How can you find a good man if you're working with old cops all the time?"

"He's not THAT old, Mom."

She paused. Oh, shit. "Talia? Were you on vacation WITH someone?"

Busted. "He's a great guy, Mom, and we had an amazing day together." And two nights. Whatever. "We've only had two dates and don't want to jinx it by talking about it."

"And you're driving home now? You aren't sleeping with him already, are you? Nobody wants to marry a tramp!"

"MOM! A week ago, you were upset that I didn't have a man and I was going to turn thirty! Now you're acting like I'm a bedhopping college student!"

"That wasn't a denial, Detective Devine. I want the best for you, baby. That's all any parent wants." One, two, three, four. "And grandchildren."

"I'll worry about that sometime after my third date, Mom. I'll call you tonight."

"I love you, baby."

"I love you too, Mom. Tell Dad I love him." I hung up, but this time her badgering didn't make me as upset as before. Would David want me to have his babies? My ovaries leaped in joy at the possibility.

When the phone rang again, I figured it was Mom forgetting something. It wasn't. "Good morning, Captain. I'm on my way back and will be there at noon."

"Forget that, Detective. I'm texting you an address in Lakeville. Go straight there." Lakeville was a booming suburb about thirty miles south of Minneapolis.

"What's going on, sir?"

"You're the David Hardin expert in the office. What is his second book about?"

"A woman is found nailed to the unfinished frame of a home under construction, sir." I had a bad feeling about this. "Sir?"

"The killer is following the script again, and you might recognize the victim's name. Vanessa Miles."

Chapter 28

Talia Devine's POV

Lakeville, Minnesota

Sunday, October 3, 2021

"Jesus," I said. "Vanessa Miles? David Hardin's former partner?"

"Yes," the Captain said. "The one that shot him in the hip and ended his career."

"I'll be there around noon," I told him. "Who else will be there?"

"Detective Maloney is off today, so report to Detective Johnson. He's heading there now to liaison with Lakeville Police and the Dakota County Sheriffs. Get what you can, and be back for the end-of-shift meeting." Dakota County covered the south to southeast Metro area, below Ramsey County, where St. Paul was. The suburbs didn't have the same crime problems as the inner cities; all of Dakota County had a quarter of the homicides our department handled in a year.

"I'm on it, sir." He hung up without saying more. This murder was big news, and David would be the prime suspect. I hadn't read Construction Sight for a few years, but I still had the audiobook in my library on the phone. I took the next exit and found it before heading south again.

If the killer followed the blueprint from this book, it would be a very public murder scene.

I followed Interstate 35W through Minneapolis. Lakeville was just south of where 35E from St. Paul joined back up with it. I followed my phone's navigation to a new housing development. I saw four news vans set up at the entrance to the "Rolling Acres" subdivision. A reporter was talking in front of a camera in front of the sign for 'homes from $500,000.' I showed my badge to the uniforms parked in front of the model homes. "Welcome to the nightmare," one of the guys said.

"Not my fault, officers! I was on a day off," I countered. The cops waved me in, and I followed the main drag to the law enforcement convention near the back. The two-story home was in the framing stage, with the roof rafters still uncovered. A blue tarp on the edge of the rafters flapped in the wind, hiding the crime scene from the people on the main road.

I parked a few houses down and stepped out, stretching after the long drive. I put my badge around my neck and my holstered Glock behind my right hip. I donned a dark blue POLICE raid jacket and headed towards Hank Johnson. He was standing with a Sergeant and two Detectives near the front of the house. "Sergeant Dooley! How are you doing?" I remembered him from a training session he'd done with us.

"Jesus Christ, Talia! Hank says this guy is likely the same asshole who killed Tracy Hardin! Couldn't you catch him before he killed someone in MY city?"

"I'm the junior detective in Robbery-Homicide, Frank. I fetch coffee, bring bagels, and learn from the experts. Hank is the expert here."

Hank didn't look happy to be under the bus. "Thanks a lot, Detective," Hank grumbled. "This is Detective Corey Felder and Detective Max Landsdown of the Lakeville Police." I shook hands with the Detectives while Hank filled me in. "BCA has the scene for processing now."

"What did you find?"

"Victim is Vanessa Miles, age 31. Her purse and clothes were just inside the front door of the house. She's a realtor contracted by the construction company to sell the remaining homes in this subdivision."

Before that, she was Minneapolis Police. She was David Hardin's partner until she accidentally ended his career. "Any signs of a struggle or sexual assault?"

"Nothing obvious. The responding officers found the victim hanging off the end of the house near the peak. The killer gagged Miss Miles with grey duct tape wrapped around her head. We saw no evidence of sexual penetration. There were no obvious injuries beyond those used to fix her to the outside of the house. Her clothing was cut off and found on the ground below her."

Corey looked like he was going to throw up. "The killer wanted to make a statement with this one. You can see how far we are away from any occupied homes. She could scream all night, and no one would hear her. Come first light, and you couldn't miss her."

Yeah, the nearest completed homes were almost a quarter mile away, but the end with the tarp was clearly visible from the main road. Of course, just like the book. "Let me guess. The killer ran ropes outside of the building to pulleys he'd installed in the rafters. He lifted her into place, probably using a truck or car next door. Once she was hanging from the top of the house, he used a framing nailer to secure her wrists and feet to the house. When done, he cut the ropes below the knots on her wrists he'd sent the nails through. The victim was left hanging there, naked, facing the road. The cause of death was suffocation from crucifixion."

"How did she know THAT," Detective Felder asked. "She just got here, and you can't see anything behind the tarp!"

"I listened to David Hardin's second book, Construction Sight, on the way down here. Our killer likes to stay true to the written word," I said. "It's a bad way to die. Hanging from your arms like that, you can't expand your lungs to take a good breath. Your feet can push you up to take a breath, but you are supporting your weight on nails driven through your insteps. The victim suffered for hours, Detectives. Eventually, your lungs fill with fluid, and you drown or die from heart failure. The whole time it's going on, she's looking at the cars driving by on the road," I told them.

"That's in the book?"

"Yes. In our case, it followed the murder scene in the first book almost exactly. As of Friday, we had thirty-three specific things in the book that matched what we found at the crime scene."

"So how do I solve this shit," Landsdown asked.

"If I knew that, I'd have a good suspect by now," I told him. "I went through the murder scene in the book and identified every piece of evidence or characteristic I could. I put them in a spreadsheet and kept track as we gathered evidence. Some of it will be easy, some not. What was the time of death?"

"The coroner said before four AM, but can't get any more specific now as the victim's core temperature equalized with air temperature. With her hanging in the breeze like that, the usual tables don't help," Max said. "She left her Mom's house after dinner at six. Her boyfriend got a text at six-thirty last night saying the victim had a client tonight and would call later. She never did. A guy going to work spotted her and called it in just after seven this morning."

"Is the boyfriend a suspect?"

Corey Felder shook his head. "He's at Air National Guard training in Louisiana, so no. We'll know more when the warrants for her phone and emails come back. Right now, we don't know who she was meeting with last night. That person is the main suspect now. We're working with the real estate company and the phone company to figure out who she went to meet." He looked at the home, then back to me. "Any ideas from the book on who the killer is?"

"Our theory is that the killer is using the book like a movie script," I replied. "The killer in Construction Sight was a recently released mental patient with a Jesus delusion, who was working as a laborer for a subcontractor. The victim was the secretary in the construction office. In Bloody Knife, the killer was her coworker. We only found one piece of evidence pointing that way."

"The whiskey glass," Corey said. "The one with Klinesmith's fingerprints he's explaining away as a setup." I nodded. "What about the author? Tracy Hardin's ex-husband?"

"No evidence directly ties him to the scene. He was the one who divorced Tracy, and it wasn't a bitter one. Her family said David never contacted her, living as a hermit on the North Shore."

"We'll need everything you have on both of them," Max said.

"I'll make sure you guys stay in the loop as long as you do the same," Hank said. "I'll bring down what I can tomorrow morning."

I still had questions for them. "How did the killer get the victim up there? The sheathing is on the upper floor already."

Max pointed to the roof. "Rope pulleys hooked over the top roof joists. We found one three feet on each side of the peak. The killer used a rope to hoist her into place by her wrists."

"What kind? Anything we can trace?"

"Red and white braided polypropylene rope, half-inch diameter. Common stock at any hardware store. The nails were out of a framing gun, three-inch smooth shank, standard on any construction site."

I looked at the driveway next door; it was hard-packed rock and sand, as the blacktop or concrete would be one of the last steps in construction. "Any tire track evidence?"

"The only tracks were from the first officers who responded," Max replied.

"Did someone rake the evidence away?"

Max's eyes got wide. "That was in the book too?"

"Yep. Where was the victim's car found?"

"In the driveway of the model home on the right as you drive it. We've already had it towed for the BCA crime scene to go through."

I nodded. "So, a client calls a realtor and asks for a private tour, off-hours. She meets him at the model home, and they take his truck to the homesite still under construction. The murder scene is pre-staged. The killer surprises her as they walk around the house and knocks her out."

Detective Felder looked confused. "No gun or knife?"

"You found no evidence of other injuries. One person can't secure a struggling victim's wrists with rope one-handed. Vanessa was a cop; she would have fought back before being rendered helpless," I replied. "The only other explanation is multiple assailants, one covering the other. Check her body; the ground around the house is mostly sand. He cut her clothes off and removed her shoes. If the victim were standing, there would be sand between her toes. If unconscious, the sand will be on her ass and heels."

"What happened in the book?"

"The killer used a rear naked chokehold, making her unconscious in about ten seconds. She was incapacitated long enough to secure her hands and tape her mouth. After that, he takes his time. He uses the car to pull her to the top. He parks the truck and grabs his cordless framing nailer to secure her outside the home. He cuts the ropes, puts everything in the trunk, pulls into the road, and rakes the driveway before leaving."

"Jesus Christ," Felder replied. "You think it happened like that?"

"I'd bet a steak dinner on it," I replied. "Maybe the BCA or FBI will take this off our hands now that we've got a pattern," I suggested. I wouldn't mind if someone else took the shit sandwich off our tray.

"Don't get your hopes up, Devine. The FBI won't take it until it goes interstate, or it's clear local law enforcement can't do the job. Nobody wants to call those pretentious pricks in," Hank said. "The Bureau of Criminal Apprehension is already helping with the crime scene. Their Investigative Division works mainly on cold cases and murders in small jurisdictions without the resources to conduct a proper investigation. That doesn't include us," he clarified.

"Well, it made for good fiction. David Hardin's lead character is a BCA investigator," I responded.

"My Chief might request State or Federal help on this if we don't solve it quickly," Max said. "People around here will be nervous. Nobody likes a serial killer."

"And sequels are rarely better," I replied. We had time to kill, so I used my laptop and David's book on my phone to start populating a spreadsheet for the Lakeville cops. We had a dozen things in common before we saw the detailed crime scene photos.

I saw the crime scene just after four, right before the Coroner removed the body. Jesus, what a way to go. A former cop hung on the wall like a trophy buck, naked and within sight of a major road. The unblurred images of the attractive realtor were already on the internet. Police couldn't get the tarp in place before dozens of people had pictures on their phones.

Hank and I had enough time to grab brisket sandwiches from Baldy's BBQ before driving back to St. Paul for the end-of-shift meeting. Two news crews parked outside the station, and a reporter yelled questions at us. "Refer all questions to the Department's press spokesman," I said as I walked towards the front door. Captains got paid for dealing with this shit, not me.

Chapter 29

Detective Talia Devine's POV

St. Paul Police HQ

Monday, October 4, 2021

Everyone was here for the morning briefing, and it wasn't going well.

Hank updated everyone on the Lakeville murder last night, but most of the office had been off yesterday. When it was my turn to update the investigation, I talked about the mysterious burner phone that went from the crime scene to the North Shore. "This was a straw purchase, and the buyer, a local panhandler known as Crazy Charlie, died of an overdose shortly after. I cannot find any witnesses or security video showing him with the person who ordered the purchase. It's a dead end."

Assistant Chief Fordham looked up at me. "Is there a chance this Crazy Charlie's death wasn't accidental? It seems sketchy he'd die shortly after crossing paths with the killer."

"His death was ruled accidental, sir. They had some lethal-dose Fentanyl-laced pills go through town about that time."

"So nothing ties the phone directly to David Hardin," Kendra Jennings said. It was the first time in a week the Hennepin County Attorney showed up instead of a deputy. The pressure on this case had ratcheted up to a whole new level with the Lakeville murder.

"Nothing conclusive," Detective Maloney answered. "The phone has no history except for the time between the murder and its arrival in the vicinity of David's home. The location data shows it did not travel down the private driveway; the signal ended near the turnoff."

"So it COULD have been Hardin," Kendra said.

"I think it is more likely someone desperately trying to point the finger at him," I replied. "I think we all agree that David writes a great murder mystery book. He's a former police officer, so he knows about evidence collection. David even talks about geofencing in his fourth book, so he knows we can use it! There was no reason to turn a phone on in the victim's home, LEAVE it in service for the drive back, only to destroy it when he gets to the driveway. That sounds more like a misdirection."

"Like the whiskey glass," James Maloney said. "Prepared well in advance to cast suspicion on someone else."

"The killer took photos in the bedroom," Kendra objected.

I shrugged. "The phone I tracked DOES have a camera, but a GoPro or digital camera is a much better solution. No GPS or wi-fi traceability. Why take the chance when you don't even make a call with it?"

I'd convinced most, but it wasn't enough. Captain Cullen looked at me. "Did you search for the phone, Talia?"

"No, sir. I spent all of Friday looking for information on the straw purchase. When it was a dead end, I took my day off."

The Captain went around to the remaining detectives, but there was no new evidence. Our boss got a call on his personal phone; he excused himself to his office to take it, returning two minutes later. "Maloney, can you spare Detective Devine until tomorrow?"

My partner thought about it, then looked at me. I nodded. "Do you need me to go?"

"No, I need you here, running the office," Cullen replied. "I just got a message from the Chief of Police in Lakeville. They just received a search warrant for David Hardin's home and vehicle."

"Sir, Mr. Hardin doesn't own a car."

"He does as of Monday, according to the DMV. He purchased a red 2022 Acura MDX from a dealer in Duluth. Their detectives will be serving it with the local sheriff. I want Detective Devine to meet them at 11:30 at the Lake County Sheriff's Office in Two Harbors."

I was confused. "Why are we going on a Lakeville warrant, Captain?"

"I don't want to hear what they find secondhand. They may find something that could help our case and not realize it because they don't know about our murder." That made sense. "You also know more about this guy than anyone, Devine, and it seems like he will work with you. I want you there for the search."

"As an observer?"

"Yes. The judge signed a warrant for items related to the Miles murder. It is not as broad as the one we got, so it shouldn't take them long to serve it. After Lakeville gets their things, get whoever you can to help find this burner phone. It's probably in pieces by the side of the road."

"Or the killer threw it into Lake Superior, never to be seen again." The trip could be a wild goose chase, but I'd get to see David again. "How long do you want me to spend on this search?"

"Be back by the end of shift tomorrow," he told me.

Sweet. "I have to leave now. Let me know if anything else comes up," I told Maloney as I grabbed my stuff. I barely had time to go home and swap the clothes in my suitcase before hitting the road again.