Deadly Stillwater

“We’ll find the girls sooner or later,” Mac said, taking another sip of coffee, his cup having been refilled twice now. He’d kept Wiskowski talking for over an hour, walking through what happened to his son, the case, his anger at the chief and Hisle, and at the same time playing to his vanity about his legacy. “We’ll find the girls. The thing is, it would be better for you if you told us where they are now.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Shannon Hisle is a Type I diabetic. She can get very sick if she doesn’t receive insulin. She could die if she doesn’t get her medicine.” Mac let it hang in the air for a moment. “Do you want that on you? Do you want to go to your grave with that on your conscience? You wanted revenge. Your son was killed in prison. You blame the chief and Lyman Hisle. So you strike back in a way you know that will hurt them. And you’ve succeeded. Trust me, I know both of those men, and they are hurting. You saw that yourself a few hours ago.” Mac paused, and then asked quietly, “But do the girls have to die?”

“I had nothing to do with this,” Wiskowski answered. “I can see why you would look at me, I really can. And I don’t know what Frank McDonald is doing, but he’s done with my company I can assure you. But I have nothing more…” Another coughing fit shook him, the sixth time in the last hour. “I didn’t do this.” He coughed and wiped his hand across his mouth. “I have nothing to do with this.” Wiskowski slumped back into his chair, his head tilting to one side.

As Wiskowski coughed again, an FBI agent stuck his head in and called Burton out.

Mac slumped back into this chair, checking his watch. It was nearly 4:00 AM, and he felt nearly as tired as Wiskowski. The old man’s lawyer sensed it as well.

“My client has nothing more to say detectives,” the lawyer said. “He’s answered your questions time and again. He has nothing to do with the kidnappings. He’s weak and tired. He needs to be allowed to go home and rest.”

“Sorry Counselor, but we obviously think otherwise,” Mac answered, although the old man’s persistence was causing him to start to wonder if he was involved. He wasn’t breaking, and he should have by now.

Burton stuck his head back into the room.

“I’ve got something you need to see,” he said, looking at Mac.

Mac and Lich moved back into the hall, joined by Riley, Rock, and Duffy.

“What’s up?” Mac asked, yawning.

“You said we should look at recent real estate purchases, right?” Burton asked.

“Yeah, so? Did your people find something?”

“Maybe. Most of the recent purchases are at least six months old, development parcels in the suburbs. There are multiple acres, clearly for residential housing, either high-end houses or townhouses. But there is one that’s odd. It’s for a single-family home down east of Northfield. It was bought by one of his smaller subsidiary groups, DSW Inc., which is run by Drew and Steve. And it was bought in the last month or so.”

“After he found out about the cancer,” Mac said.

“That’s right,” Burton said. “What could be the possible point?”

“Are there other houses around?” Lich asked.

“We did a satellite search of the property,” Duffy answered. “It’s off by itself. Well in from the county road. There are no other homes nearby.”

“Nice country house, perhaps?”

“Doesn’t appear to be. Rambler, fairly large, but just a nondescript rambler out in the country.”

“How big a piece of land?” Mac asked.

“It was a twenty-acre parcel, maybe a hobby farm, but it’s in the middle of nowhere,” Duffy replied. “It wouldn’t be developed for years, if ever.”

“What’s Northfield have to say about it?”

“I called out and had them do a drive-by,” Duffy answered. “They said a couple of vans are parked in front of the garage. Otherwise, very little going on.”

Burton looked to Mac.

“What do you think?”

“Let’s ask the old man.”

Mac and Burton went back into the interview room. Wiskowski’s lawyer looked up.

“I said, we are done.”

“I got just one other thing I want to ask about.” Mac said.

“What’s that?”

“What do you know about this,” Mac slid a sheet of paper in front of Wiskowski and his lawyer. It was the property listing for the Northfield house.

Wiskowski’s mouth opened and then his shoulders slumped, like he’d been caught.

“What’s out at that house?”

Wiskowski shook his head.

“Maybe that’s why McDonald is involved.”

“McDonald?” Mac asked, standing now, leaning down to the old man, his voice rising, “McDonald? What’s at that house damn it?” He pounded the table, “What’s out there?”

Wiskowski looked at the picture.

“Ohh Steve.” Drew Sr. put his hands to his face. “I wondered why he bought that place. Why would he do this?” he pleaded to his lawyer, who just shook his head.

“Steve?” Mac asked. “Your son?” They hadn’t been able to find Wiskowski’s son as of yet. “What’s Steve have to do with this?”

Wiskowski pleaded with his lawyer.

“Why would he do this?”

Burton grabbed Mac by the arm.

“We’ve been looking at the wrong Wiskowski. Let’s go.”

4:32 AM