Deadly Stillwater

“I know you are,” Hanburg replied. “I told them to hurry, not optional if they wanted to remain employed. They’re good fellas who work for me. They’re hustlin’ in. It’s rough you know, it’s…”

“…a holiday,” Mac interrupted, frustrated. “That’s been an issue all day.”

Hanburg sat in his metal desk chair, pulled up to the computer, and started working the keyboard and mouse. “You boys got a picture of the piping? There are different kinds. I want to look for the right ones.”

Mac pulled three still photos out of his folder and handed them over.

Hanburg looked at the sticker. “That looks like one we sell. Let me run a search here. What do you think, back a month or two?”

“At the most,” Mac answered, walking around behind Hanburg and sitting on a corner of the desk. Within a minute, the store owner had a report up on his screen. It showed purchases of the PVC pipe over the past two months, providing dates, amounts purchased, and payment methods. There were more than fifty purchases, many of them bulk sales to local building and plumbing contractors.

“How many are in cash?” Mac asked.

Hanburg narrowed the search more. “I’ve got five that paid in cash.”

With Mac and Lich now on the PVC pipe, Sally, Jupiter, and Hagen searched for any connection between Smith or the Muellers and anyone from a list of cops provided by Double Frank and Paddy the day before.

“We’re not finding anything,” Jupiter admitted.

“Not even a sniff,” Hagen added.

“Let’s take a look at the FBI people working the case,” Sally said.

“You want me searching FBI personnel files?” Hagen asked, concern in his voice. Jupiter flipped up an eyebrow as well.

Sally didn’t hesitate. “Do it.”

Carrie kept talking, about anything and everything, her family, friends, boyfriend, job hopes, aspirations, school, everything. She talked about her whole life, as if she wanted to relive it one last time, which she knew she might be doing. Talking about it let her make a mental escape, if only temporarily. It put her mind in a place outside the box, a place where there was light and sun, and she could move wherever and however she wanted to.

Shannon wasn’t carrying along with the conversation.

She was barely conscious.

Carrie held her tight, trying to keep her awake. She talked to her, rubbed her arms and legs, doing anything she could to keep Shannon conscious and comfortable. Carrie was trying to buy as much time as possible, praying somebody would get to them soon.

Over the last hour, Carrie kept talking, about TV shows, her favorite music, and even about politics, a first for her, just to show how few topics were left to comment on. Then she started talking about Jessica Alba. “I mean, that girl is so beautiful. I can’t imagine what she does to keep her body looking that good, can you?”

Shannon didn’t respond.

Carrie shook her shoulder, “Shannon, doesn’t Jessica Alba have a great body?”

Shannon mumbled incoherently.

“Shannon! Shannon! Wake up, honey! Wake up!” Carrie babbled on for a few minutes before she realized it was no use. Shannon had warned that this could happen. Her body was shutting down. Time was running out.

Gail Carlson pulled into the gas station across the street from Hanburg’s hardware. She’d heard the call come through on the Wyoming police band, a call for the chief, asking him to meet two St. Paul police detectives at Hanburg’s. Carlson called Foxx on her way out the door, telling her that her hunch may have paid off.”

The veteran reporter jumped into her black Jeep Cherokee and raced from Minneapolis up to Wyoming, a half hour to the north. Now she slumped down in her driver’s seat, looking up at her rearview mirror, watching the police cars and a black Ford Explorer parked in front of the store. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed Foxx.

“Where you at, Gail?” Foxx asked without preamble.

“Across the street from Hanburg’s hardware. I’m looking at two patrol cars and a black Ford Explorer.”

“I’ll bet that’s Mac McRyan, that’s what he drives.” Foxx exclaimed, with just a touch of glee in her voice. “Can you see anything else?”

“No, but people are starting to arrive, so they must be on to something. So what are they on to?” Carlson asked. “You want to let me in on it?”

Foxx related her experiences from the night before.

“So something’s going on up here,” Carlson said agreeably.

“Yeah, I just don’t know what.”

The employees of Hanburg’s hardware started filing in. Mac and Lich were talking to them back in Hanburg’s office, showing the photos. It was going nowhere. Nobody recognized any of the pictures. There were some comments about people being vaguely familiar, but nobody said, “Yeah, I’ve seen Dean or David or Monica Reynolds or Smith Brown in here recently.”

“Fuck me,” Mac said, leaning over the desk.

“What next?” Lich said. We’ve got what?” He looked at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes until the call?”