else happens. If you have a problem in Wausau, call the WPD. It’s best to be cautious.”
Gray wiped his face with his big hands. “I heard you talked to Nash.”
Her intention to complain about his hiring Nashlund had lessened in priority since the call from Tarkowski. “I wanted to talk to you about that. He asked me to let him work the case with me. I can’t do that. He’s interfering in a police investigation.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to do anything I can, Detective. My niece may be out there somewhere, in God only knows what conditions.”
Kendall had been eager to talk to him more about Nash, but she had to get on the road for Stillwater before she was ordered to stay put. She turned to leave, then stopped.
“Oh, I keep forgetting—I have to do something with the cat we found at the Glausson home; it belonged to Sienna. Would you like to have it?”
“I can’t, England’s allergic. Will you have to take it to a shelter?”
“A neighbor of mine has been taking care of it. She’s willing to keep it if you can’t.”
“Good. I’ll contribute to its care if necessary. If it doesn’t work out, let me know. I’ll find it a home.”
Kendall thanked him and hurried to the car.
With the Highlander pointed toward Stillwater, Kendall fought to keep the car within ten miles of the speed limit on I-94 while she listened to Alverson bitch.
“The Fibbies are taking over the whole fuckin’ thing? Even the search? Makes us look like a pile of dog crap.”
Even though she’d had similar thoughts, Kendall was sick of hearing him grouse before they’d gotten ten miles out of Eau Claire, and having second and third thoughts about her decision to include him.
“Ross, there’s nothing we can do about it. We aren’t even authorized to be making this trip; Schoenfuss could call us in any minute now.”
He pulled out his phone and made a show of pressing the off button. “Then tough shit. I’m unavailable.”
Kendall picked up speed. Travis Jordan may not be in Stillwater yet, but she’d damn well be there when they brought him in.
They pulled into the Stillwater police station an hour later. As they walked in Kendall said, “Remember, Tarkowski said the agent doing the interview is trying to make himself look like the big dog here. So pucker up, we may have to kiss his ass to get anything out of him.”
Ross sneered. “Yeah, right. Then I’ll go toss my lunch.”
A detective wearing a Stillwater ID and a sour expression greeted them. Detective Sheila Olson stood about three inches shorter than Kendall and wore a bright red blazer over a pair of neatly pressed khakis. Her perfectly bobbed hair swung about her face with her least movement.
“Agent Kahn is interviewing the suspect. You can wait in here.” She led them into a room lined with shelving and stocked with coffee makers, newspapers, and a ratty leather sofa, apparently their break room.
Kendall stopped Olson before she rushed out. “Do you know how it’s going?”
Olson looked like she was trying to decide how much to tell them. “You had a similar invasion in Eau Claire, didn’t you?”
So we have to find common ground. “Yes, just a few days ago. And we haven’t found out anything about the baby. That’s why we’re here. If you get anything from Jordan about the child, we want to be able to jump on it immediately.”
Olson nodded, her hair bouncing. “I understand, but you may have made this trip for nothing. Jordan asked for an attorney as soon as he got here. No one knows how he managed it, but a criminal defense attorney from the Cities showed up only minutes after they brought him in. Lucille Bellamy. Ever heard of her?”
Kendall frowned. “She’s good. Kahn won’t get anything from him if she stays on the case.”
Alverson opened his mouth as if to add a gripe, when a man obviously an FBI agent entered the room, his ramrod-straight posture hinting of a long-term military background. His
Gray wiped his face with his big hands. “I heard you talked to Nash.”
Her intention to complain about his hiring Nashlund had lessened in priority since the call from Tarkowski. “I wanted to talk to you about that. He asked me to let him work the case with me. I can’t do that. He’s interfering in a police investigation.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I have to do anything I can, Detective. My niece may be out there somewhere, in God only knows what conditions.”
Kendall had been eager to talk to him more about Nash, but she had to get on the road for Stillwater before she was ordered to stay put. She turned to leave, then stopped.
“Oh, I keep forgetting—I have to do something with the cat we found at the Glausson home; it belonged to Sienna. Would you like to have it?”
“I can’t, England’s allergic. Will you have to take it to a shelter?”
“A neighbor of mine has been taking care of it. She’s willing to keep it if you can’t.”
“Good. I’ll contribute to its care if necessary. If it doesn’t work out, let me know. I’ll find it a home.”
Kendall thanked him and hurried to the car.
With the Highlander pointed toward Stillwater, Kendall fought to keep the car within ten miles of the speed limit on I-94 while she listened to Alverson bitch.
“The Fibbies are taking over the whole fuckin’ thing? Even the search? Makes us look like a pile of dog crap.”
Even though she’d had similar thoughts, Kendall was sick of hearing him grouse before they’d gotten ten miles out of Eau Claire, and having second and third thoughts about her decision to include him.
“Ross, there’s nothing we can do about it. We aren’t even authorized to be making this trip; Schoenfuss could call us in any minute now.”
He pulled out his phone and made a show of pressing the off button. “Then tough shit. I’m unavailable.”
Kendall picked up speed. Travis Jordan may not be in Stillwater yet, but she’d damn well be there when they brought him in.
They pulled into the Stillwater police station an hour later. As they walked in Kendall said, “Remember, Tarkowski said the agent doing the interview is trying to make himself look like the big dog here. So pucker up, we may have to kiss his ass to get anything out of him.”
Ross sneered. “Yeah, right. Then I’ll go toss my lunch.”
A detective wearing a Stillwater ID and a sour expression greeted them. Detective Sheila Olson stood about three inches shorter than Kendall and wore a bright red blazer over a pair of neatly pressed khakis. Her perfectly bobbed hair swung about her face with her least movement.
“Agent Kahn is interviewing the suspect. You can wait in here.” She led them into a room lined with shelving and stocked with coffee makers, newspapers, and a ratty leather sofa, apparently their break room.
Kendall stopped Olson before she rushed out. “Do you know how it’s going?”
Olson looked like she was trying to decide how much to tell them. “You had a similar invasion in Eau Claire, didn’t you?”
So we have to find common ground. “Yes, just a few days ago. And we haven’t found out anything about the baby. That’s why we’re here. If you get anything from Jordan about the child, we want to be able to jump on it immediately.”
Olson nodded, her hair bouncing. “I understand, but you may have made this trip for nothing. Jordan asked for an attorney as soon as he got here. No one knows how he managed it, but a criminal defense attorney from the Cities showed up only minutes after they brought him in. Lucille Bellamy. Ever heard of her?”
Kendall frowned. “She’s good. Kahn won’t get anything from him if she stays on the case.”
Alverson opened his mouth as if to add a gripe, when a man obviously an FBI agent entered the room, his ramrod-straight posture hinting of a long-term military background. His
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