Killer Dreams Ch. 56-60

"They want to ask me questions!"

"That's lawyer territory. Let him handle it."

"Thanks, sis." I hung up, and Lisa finally let me go. "Finish packing while I figure out how to get us home." I called the private flight service we'd used to get here. By the time I got packed, they'd arranged to have a plane ready for us by the time we could get to the airport. We'd have to change planes in Miami, but we wouldn't have to go through the commercial air terminals.

The Bahamian police were loading things from Dad's room into a police car as we walked out to the carport. We ignored the FBI agents as they tried to talk to us again and loaded our suitcases into the car. I thanked the staff, especially the cook, and told the housekeeper to drive us to the airport.

The twin turboprop plane didn't have many amenities, but the jet from Miami to Eden Prairie did. We got held up in Customs in Miami; the FBI wanted to interrogate us on US soil, but Hardy Smacken refused to allow it. "You'll get an interview AFTER I've talked to my clients," he told them. Twenty minutes later, we were taking off in a Gulfstream business jet.

We spent the whole trip watching the news coverage out of Edina, and each new revelation made us shiver with disgust. At first, it was the innuendo about the 'local businessman killed in sex dungeon shootout with police.' Cellphone video from neighbors showed the aftermath, with ambulances taking the wounded away. When news of Lars Anderson's death at his hand broke, I couldn't believe it. Finally, the FBI and local authorities had to hold a news conference, which started as we were on our final approach.

That was when the bombs dropped. They had video; one showed Dad getting out of the plow truck and walking inside a suburban home late last night. They spoke of but didn't show the video of Dad shooting Lars Anderson in the dungeon. He also tortured an undercover officer, shot two others, and was a suspect in five other deaths. The press already had the names of the two detectives and one Sergeant wounded, one of whom was in critical condition. Yes, Dad was a suspect in the Hardin Book Killings, along with Allison Decker's death AND Michael Klinesmith's.

I couldn't believe Daddy was a serial killer, not after how he'd supported me since Michael became a suspect.

Things didn't get any better as we taxied to the terminal. I could see the news vans parked near the entrance, cameras set up to capture us as we exited the plane. The crew shut down the plane and lowered the stairs. "Let us get your bags ready and walk interference for you," the copilot said as he looked out.

It was worse than I imagined. A limo from our law firm was waiting, but we still had to walk from the plane to the terminal, then out to the parking lot. The crowd yelled obscenities and questions at us as we hurried to the car, and they surrounded us until we pulled away.

I'd gone on vacation to escape this crap, and it was never going away now.

Chapter 58

David Hardin's POV

Lake Superior Home near Two Harbors, MN

Sunday, October 17, 2021

It was good to be home.

The book tour was very successful from Valerie Nolan's POV. All four of my books were in the Top 10 of the Amazon Fiction list, which is based on real-time sales and far more accurate than the New York Times list. The book signing events had overflow crowds, but they were a pain. Everyone these days wants a selfie, despite the rules. It was a signing factory. Look up, a quick greeting, and ask who they want it made out to before signing while they say how great I am. Do that a thousand times, and you want to exit quickly. Hell, my hand is still sore from signing all the books.

The media events were better and worse. The good ones were relaxing and engaging conversations with probing questions and a deep discussion of the issues. The worst interviews were somewhat hostile, as if I should have known a psycho killer would follow the rules in my book. I sent some nasty notes to Valerie after a few, but the people got what they wanted. Confrontation sells better than introspection, and any publicity feeds sales.

Then I had to deal with the traffic, the VIP parties, and the women. I was propositioned several times and was slipped more than a few phone numbers along the way. I politely declined or ignored them all. When my 'mandatory' activities finished, my hip was aching, and I wanted out. Thankfully, the luxury hotels I stayed in had massage therapists and whirlpools.

I didn't bother staying in Los Angeles on Saturday. Instead, I bullied Valerie into moving up our private flight to Duluth to leave at one in the morning. "Think of all the money you'll save on hotels," I told her.

"Seriously? A redeye?"

"The seats recline fully, we sleep the whole trip, and you and I can finish our business by noon. You can be back in New York Sunday night," I countered.

"Fine," she'd finally said.

I'd slept from the time we finished climbing out until we had to raise our seats to land, plus most of the drive home in the limo. Driving in as the sun rose, I mentioned that I didn't see a single reporter or photographer along Highway 61. "They must have found someone else to make miserable," I grumbled as I rolled down the window to punch in the code for the private driveway gate.

"David? Wait." I sat back in the car as the gate went up, looking over at Valerie. Something was wrong. My editor and friend frantically read something on her phone, her face white as a ghost. "What is going on?"

Valerie couldn't even look at me as she handed her fancy smartphone over. It was a breaking news story out of the Twin Cities. "Two Dead, Three Police Shot in Bondage Dungeon Shootout."

No. A late-night shooting at a secretive BDSM dungeon in Edina left two clients dead and sent three officers to the hospital. Sources close to the investigation said a blown undercover operation involving Minneapolis and St. Paul Police erupted in gunfire. The undercover officer, identified as 29-year old St. Paul Homicide Detective Talia Devine, suffered a life-threatening gunshot to the head. St. Paul Police Chief Tonya Robbins reported Devine was in critical condition and remains in surgery at Fairview Southdale Hospital. 'Our thoughts and prayers are with her as she fights for her life,' she said."

I dropped the phone in my lap, reaching for the door. "WAIT! We haven't even stopped! What the hell are you doing?"

"I have to go to Minneapolis. NOW."

"Why?"

"Because I love her." I buried my head in my hands. "I love her, Valerie. I LOVE her, and the last time I saw her, I got mad and stormed off. Now I might never get a chance to tell her I'm sorry!" I broke down, and she pulled me to her shoulder. It took a minute to get my emotions back under control, by which time the driver had parked and removed the luggage from the trunk.

"Come on, David. You need to get inside and pack." I looked up at her. "Your clothes are dirty, and you'll be in Minneapolis for a while. Get inside, pack some new clothes, and start your car. We'll leave as soon as you are ready."

I nodded. "I thought you were going back to the airport this afternoon?"

She put her hand on my cheek. "David, you're in no shape to drive. I have to connect through Minneapolis anyway. Let's go."

I didn't have time to argue. Going inside, I let Rocky out back before going to my bedroom. I tossed my suit bag on the bed and the dirty clothes went into the hamper. I went to the dresser and started grabbing things. Jeans, flannel shirts, workout gear, and one decent outfit with slacks and a collared shirt, just in case. It was mid-October, so the weather could go from freezing to eighty in a day. Extra shoes, a rain jacket, and a warm sweater filled the rest before I zipped it up.

"One minute," I warned Valerie. She let Rocky back in while I tossed some drinks and snacks in a cooler, then we headed for the garage. She'd already loaded her luggage into the back, and mine went next to it. "I can drive," I protested.

"No, you can't," she replied. "You will be checking the news and talking on the phone the whole way down. Plus, your head is anywhere but on the road."

"You don't know the way," I objected as she went to get in.

"That's why you have a navigation system. Get in, David."

I did. I texted Jennifer Parson first. I'll be in Minneapolis this week. Can you take care of Rocky for me? It was a Sunday morning, and she probably wasn't up yet.

I sent a few more texts out since it was still early. The next was for Larry Miller. Driving down now what is your schedule?

He didn't text back; he called. "David? Why are you headed down my way?"

"You heard about the shooting?"

He let out a breath. "Yeah, I've been keeping in touch with some guys at the hospital. Molly Pierce is a good detective, and she took one right in the fucking shoulder. She'll live, but word is it's all fucked up. The Edina cop will be fine in a month or two; the bullet didn't hit anything vital in her thigh. That's not why you're driving here as soon as you heard about it."

He always had my number. "Talia is a friend, Larry."

"Uh, huh. Pull on this leg, and it plays the Vikings fight song."

"What do you know about her condition, buddy?"

"Devine was a millimeter away from being dead right there," he replied as my stomach sank. "The perp was waiting for the entry team and opened up on the lead officer as soon as she cleared cover. She had a patrol rifle set for a 3-round burst, but nothing got on target. Her partner took him out, but one of the rounds hit Devine just above the temple. Thank God it didn't go in." I couldn't talk, so I waited. "The surgeons spent all night pulling pieces of bone out of her brain. It's a miracle she's still alive."

"Jesus," I finally said.

"Yeah. Detective Devine is out of surgery now, but the doctors can't promise anything. I'm sorry, David."

I looked at my watch. "I'll be in town about noon. What's your schedule?"

"Mids next three nights. You're welcome to crash at my place if you want."

I thought about it but declined. "Our schedules won't align, and you have to work. I'll get a hotel room. I can afford it, I think." I didn't say my real reason.

I didn't want to be too far from the hospital.

"David, I can't give any details, but the case Talia and Molly were working? It was related to the murder of Allison Decker and the serial killer. The guy died in the shootout."

"What? I thought Klinesmith was the guy?"

"Talia's gut said he was a fall guy, and the real guy was still out there. That was why she went undercover. Don't say anything about it until the brass releases it."

"I won't. I've always got your back, partner."

"I know. Hey, I'm almost home. I'm going to get some sleep. Why don't you call me if you can get away for dinner tonight?"

"I'll let you know. Thanks, Larry."

"We're all praying for her, David. You stay strong for her."

He hung up, and I stared at the phone. "I'm too late," I said as I closed my eyes.

"Don't you DARE give up," Valerie scolded. "It's not over until you turn the last page, and even then, there might be a sequel. You know that."

"Yeah." I was dreading my next call. I found the number and hit send. It went straight to voice mail. "Mrs. Devine, it's David Hardin. I just heard, and I'm heading to the Twin Cities now. I'd like to see you if I can. Please call me back." I hung up the phone, wondering if I'd burned a bridge with her Mom in our last conversation. You know, the one where she accused me of breaking her daughter's heart?

I'd done so many things that I now regret.

I heard back from Jennifer, who was happy to take care of Rocky for me. I also made a reservation at the Westin Galleria Hotel, which my phone said was six minutes from the hospital. "I hate to say this," I said softly.

"What?"

"You were right. I'm a mess, Valerie. Thank you."

She cracked a smile. "I'm a friend as well as your editor, David. I want what is best for you. Now that you've gotten all your calls done, you can tell me what happened between you and Detective Devine."

"I don't know if there is time."

She looked at the navigation system. "Two hours twenty-three minutes to the airport. Start talking, David."

I decided to tell her everything, including my dreams. Valerie was kind enough to let me tell the story without interruption, but she had questions. "These dreams were that vivid?"

I nodded. "It was like I was there, seeing things through the eyes of the murderer. Sometimes I would get more pieces in different dreams, while with others, it was the same thing over and over. The dream involving Talia was short, just the bullet hitting her above the temple. It ended right after that, so I figured she was dead."

"You gave up so much to keep these deaths from happening," she started.

"And in the end, I accomplished nothing," I finished. "Tracy still got tortured and killed, Vanessa crucified, Doctor Ibanez took his last ride, and Talia got shot by a cop. Staying away didn't work, warning them didn't work, and I pushed Talia away. She went undercover thinking that I didn't want her."

"What a mind-fuck. How can you dream about something a serial killer would do years later?"

"I wish I knew. More to the point, I wish I'd never had one. I couldn't keep either woman I love safe."

"What about book four? The girl?"

I shivered. "Did I stop it? God, I hope so. If these dreams were all from the serial killer's point of view and he's dead, it's over."

"From your lips to God's ear," she told me.

I napped for an hour before reaching the cities. After I dropped Valerie off at the airport, I drove west to the hospital to see Talia. I went to Caribou first, getting eight cups of coffee and some sandwiches as a peace offering. I knew from personal experience that there would be a bunch of cops around to support her.

The cops and hospital security didn't let me in until I got a message to Talia's parents that I was waiting. Detective Maloney came down to escort me to the ICU waiting room. "How is she doing?"

"Hanging in there," the old Irishman said. "You won't be able to see her. Only her parents can get in, and then only one at a time."

"I know."

"Do you love her?"

It wasn't a question I expected. "Yes."

"Good. Talia will survive this. She's too damn stubborn to die." I had to agree. "I was mad at you for ruining her career. The Captain explained you tried to protect her, but in the end, it doesn't matter. Talia has a long recovery ahead, and she needs people who love her in her corner. You've been through a long rehab, so you know what I mean. If you can't be that for her, then walk away now."

"I expected that speech from her father."

"Well, I'm a little protective of my partner, and I know a few things he doesn't."

The elevator door opened, and we walked to the waiting area off to the right. Captain Cullen was there, along with a few others I recognized from my visit to the Homicide Division. They looked like shit; most had been up all night, and there wasn't a lot of good news. James walked me over to the corner, where a man with receding grey hair was drinking coffee and staring through the wall. I set the food down on the table in front of the group. "William Devine?" He looked up, the pain evident in his eyes. "This is David Hardin. He's a friend of Talia's."

"You're the author of those books? The one she took to the North Shore?"

"I am, sir. I'm sorry we have to meet like this." I held out my hand to shake his.

"Me too," he said as he avoided my hand, pulling me into a hug. I was patting his back when he whispered in my ear. "Too many cops around to kick your ass for hurting my little girl."

"You can't know how sorry I am for that."

He let me go, the warning clear. "Thank you for coming. Fiona is in the room with her now, but they won't let her stay long." He sat down heavily, looking at the stuff I'd brought. "That all for you?"

"I figured you could use the good stuff," I said. "Grab a sandwich if you want. That goes for all of you."

I sat with him for an hour, listening to him tell stories about Talia growing up and her early days as a cop. Fiona came out shortly after I arrived, and her condition was unchanged. They were keeping her in a coma lowering her body temperature to allow her brain to heal. It would be at least a week before they'd know the extent of any brain damage.

That was when a Minneapolis Homicide detective came in and asked to talk to me. I excused myself and followed him to the elevator. "What's going on? Do I need my lawyer?"

"No," he answered quickly. "Molly Pierce wants to talk to you about what happened last night. She won't say why."

I followed him to the room, wondering what was going on myself.

Chapter 59

Laura Brickline's POV

Law Offices of Baer, Butz & Smacken, Minneapolis

Sunday, October 17, 2021

The limo dropped us in front of the Minneapolis office building, and an associate brought us up the elevator to the law office. Lana was waiting for us when I entered the lobby with Lisa. The three of us embraced, tears flowing as the emotional waves crashed against the rocky shores of our minds.

My sisters had been there for me through everything with Michael. For us to survive, we had to stick together. I was the oldest, and I had to be their rock now.

I drew strength from my sisters as the embrace continued. It took a while until Lana broke the huddle. "Come on. We'll freshen up, then meet the lawyers in the conference room." She led us to the Ladies' Room, where I used the facilities and rinsed my mouth again. I'd thrown up twice on the way here, and it wasn't from being airsick. Every new revelation on the news had been a punch to the gut.

"How did we miss all this," I said as we got ready to walk back out. "How could Dad do those things and come home to us as if nothing happened?"

"I said the same thing about your husband," Lisa replied. "There was a hidden side to them I never suspected."

"I was the one living at the house," Lana said. "I should have seen it."

"There will be time for that later," I said as we gathered by the door. "We have to stick together. Nobody talks to anyone who isn't family or our lawyer. Trust me. The press isn't going away." I put my hand out, and my sisters put their hands over mine. "All for one, and one for all."

"Let's go," Lana said.

We walked across the lobby to the conference room, where we sat at the oval table for introductions. Hardy Smacken was their lead criminal defense lawyer and would represent us during the upcoming interrogations. Misty Butz would handle the civil litigation. I didn't expect to see Dad's tax attorney, who put together the family trust, in the room, but he was here. One of the secretaries offered refreshments. "You should drink some juice," Lana said. "You look pale, Laura. You need to take care of yourself and the baby." There were a few raised eyebrows when she said that out loud. "They need to know."

"Between morning sickness and the news, I haven't kept anything down today," I replied. I accepted a large glass of orange juice, and the secretary went to get me a toasted bagel. "How bad is it?"

Hardy started speaking first. "I don't have much beyond what the FBI and law enforcement released this morning," he said. "As you heard, your father entered a fetish dungeon where Lars Anderson and an undercover Minneapolis detective were waiting. Thomas shot Lars twice, killing him, then sexually assaulted the female officer. When the backup detective attempted a rescue, Thomas shot her multiple times. A few minutes later, Edina police arrived. Your father shot the first officer down the stairs before the second killed him. An Edina officer accidentally shot the undercover detective in the head during the gun battle. All three officers are still alive, but one is in critical condition."