Deadly Stillwater

“Almost. One time, a few years ago, I got frustrated with the whole Type I deal. My boyfriend broke up with me, and I thought the reason he did was because I always had to take insulin. All my friends were leading a normal life, and my boyfriend was leading a normal life, and here I was stopping to take insulin three to four times per day.”

“Was that really the reason he broke up with you?”

“Later on I asked him and he said no. He met someone else,” Shannon answered. “But at the time, I thought that had something to do with it so I said ‘screw it’ I wasn’t going to take the insulin anymore.”

“So what happened?”

“I went a couple of days without it. I became disoriented and didn’t really realize what was going on. Eventually, I fell asleep on the couch with nobody around. My roommates came home and they couldn’t wake me. They rushed me to the emergency room. I ended up in the intensive care unit. Thankfully, the doctors were able to revive me, but it was a close call. I could have easily died if they hadn’t found me. I’ve gone a couple of days now. I’m worried what’s going to happen to me. I could die in here before they find us.”

“Shannon, that’s not going to happen,” Carrie replied, summoning all the confidence she could muster into her voice. She grabbed Shannon’s hand.

“I wish I had your confidence,” Hisle replied, her eyes welling with tears.

Carrie squeezed Shannon’s hand. “Don’t you worry, Honey. I know who’s looking for us.”

“Who?”

“Our fathers for one. Those are two men who can make things happen.”

“They’ve got to be going crazy about now,” Shannon answered. “How can they possibly find us?”

“I don’t expect my dad or yours would,” Carrie answered. “But my dad’s boys on the other hand…”

“His boys?”

“Yeah. Mac McRyan, Pat Riley, Big Bobby Rockford, and Lich. I know them. They are relentless. They will do anything to find us, and they will not stop until they do. They will not let anyone stand in their way. We’ve just gotta have a little faith, Sister. They’ll find us.”

Plain-clothes cops had already spread out down the street, knocking on doors and asking questions, as well as distracting neighbors. Mac and Lich climbed over the fence into the backyard again, this time moving to the back door to the garage. Down on a knee, Mac went to work picking the lock on the ancient doorknob. He fiddled with it a minute, and then he heard a little click and felt the lock pop open. Mac opened the door, and he and Lich quickly moved inside the garage and closed the door.

“Let’s clear the house quick,” Mac said, his Sig in his right hand.

Lich nodded as he pulled his Smith. Neither of them expected to find anyone, but this needed to be done. Mac pushed into the house, and he and Lich quickly moved throughout the first floor and then quickly down to the basement. There was nobody inside.

Mac grabbed the radio on his belt as he walked back up the stairs from the basement. “The house is clear. Come on in.”

Lich yelled from the front of the house, and Mac hit the garage door opener. As it opened, the white police surveillance van backed into the driveway. The back door of the van opened, and four forensics techs, two each from the department and the FBI, exited the van. With everyone out, the van pulled out and rolled down the block as the garage door closed. Mac slipped on rubber gloves while everyone else got their equipment together.

With everyone ready, Mac opened the door and let them into the one-story house. The group stood in the eating area, which was separated from the dark wood cupboards and mustard yellow Formica of the 1970s kitchen by a waist-high counter. The card table that Riley saw was the only furniture in their immediate view. Mac pointed to an FBI and St. Paul tech, “I’ll work up here with you two.”

“And I’ll take you other two downstairs,” Lich added.

Now that the house was clear, Mac took his time walking and looking around. His first stop was the living room to his left, which was devoid of furniture, its beige shag carpet the only contrast against the stark white walls. The only thing worthy of notice was the fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet. Leaving the living room, Mac walked down a hallway to the two bedrooms and full bath. The larger of the two bedrooms contained only a queen-size mattress and box spring, but no bed frame or headboard. There were no sheets on the bed. The closet was empty, not even a solitary hanger on the rod. Again, there were fresh vacuum tracks throughout the room.

Across the hall, the other bedroom was tiny, maybe ten by ten, also empty and freshly vacuumed.

“Empty?” a tech asked, walking up behind Mac.

“Yeah, nothing. Freshly vacuumed is about all that I see of note.”

“Being careful?”

“If they were using this house, yes. They have been careful every step of the way,” Mac replied with a sigh. “But it’s a long way from vacuum tracks to saying they were here. It could be that a cleaning company has been in and out for all we know. That might explain the vacuum tracks.”