Deadly Stillwater

“We sit and wait for awhile, try to relax,” Smith answered, turning on the TV. “At five thirty I’ll drive the minivan over to Eagle Street and wait.”

“Dean and David get the easy duty, don’t they?”

“At least for now,” Smith replied. “David saved my life in prison. If things go awry, he and Dean can walk away, as can you.”

“Have you changed your mind about the girls?”

“No,” Smith replied.

“You know how Dean and David feel.”

“I do,” Smith replied looking out the window. “They don’t think the girls should pay.” He turned back toward Monica. “The thing is, if everything goes according to plan, nobody will ever know who we are. Or if they do eventually figure it out, it will be too late. We’ll be long gone. If we let them know where the girls are, that increases the risk that we’ll be found before we’re safely away. If we give them the girls, the police very likely will discover who we are, probably before we’ve made the necessary changes to our looks.”

“I know, I know,” Monica answered, looking down and picking at the carpet with her toes. “Thing is,” she started quietly, “the girls are guilty of nothing other than having the fathers they have.”

“And what about my daughter?” Smith asked, anger rising in his voice. “What was she guilty of besides having me as her father? She died because of Charlie Flanagan. I’m in prison, and my wife can’t get insurance. She can’t get treatment for my little girl. When the state finally comes through, my little girl’s on her deathbed and it’s too late. That’s all on Charlie Flanagan.” Smith turned back toward the window, away from her. “He needs to feel what I felt. He needs to feel what it’s like to lose a daughter. He’s going to feel that before he dies.”

Mac and the others burst into the conference room to find Hagen’s fingers dancing frantically over the keyboard and a printer spitting out reams of paper. “What do we know?” Mac asked, walking up to Sally.

“It doesn’t look like Brown is in Chicago,” Sally said. “I had CPD go to the last known address. It doesn’t exist.”

“What do you mean it doesn’t exist? The address doesn’t exist? It’s a fake?” Rock growled.

“Yeah. Brown served his full sentence and was a free man, free to go wherever he wanted,” Sally answered. “It would appear that in his six months out he has chosen to fall off the grid.”

“And this is the guy who was in prison with David Mueller?” Rock asked, looking at a picture of Smith taken six months before he was released. Six feet tall, Brown had black hair graying at his temples. He had brown eyes and a knot at the bridge of his already large nose.

“Yes,” Sally replied. “For twelve years. We looked at Brown’s records for Leavenworth. It appears he had trouble on his arrival.”

“He’s probably lucky to be alive,” Lich said. Cops have issues in prison.

“That’s where David Mueller comes in,” Sally added, flipping to a different page. “He saved Brown’s life. Apparently David was pretty good with his fists. He, and his brother Dean, who I’ll get to in a minute, were in the Golden Gloves back in the day. Anyway, David seems to have used those skills to save Brown, or at least that’s what we’re seeing as we read between the lines on some stuff from Leavenworth. Apparently, David, and later Dean, took it upon themselves to apply a couple of beatings, to send a message and that probably allowed Brown to make it out alive.”

“So he’s loyal to them,” Rock said. “And I suppose vice versa.”

“What about the Muellers?” Mac asked, looking at pictures taken prior to their release from Leavenworth. The brothers were definitely twins, thick necks, black hair, unibrows, but all-in-all decent-looking boys. The only noticeable differences were their eyes and noses. Dean’s eyes were spread a little farther apart from his nose. David had an unnaturally crooked nose, probably broken from boxing.

“This is where it gets interesting. The brothers have an Osseo address, an apartment complex a block off of the main street,” Sally gave him a sheet with directions and the address. “I spoke with the Osseo police chief. He says give him a holler at that number,” she handed a yellow sticky note to Mac. “He and another officer will meet you at a gas station a few blocks away.”

“Okay, but you said ‘interesting’ a minute ago, what else?” Mac pushed impatiently, reading from the sheet. “What’s so interesting?”

“The Mueller boys have an older sister named Monica Reynolds – her married name.”

“Tell me the older sister looks like our missing woman,” Riles said, hopeful.

“Here’s a picture we got from the DMV for her license,” Sally responded. “Tell me what you think.” Her tone said she thought it was a match.