A River Through Two Harbors Read online

  A River Through Two Harbors

  Dennis Herschbach

  North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

  Saint Cloud, Minnesota

  Copyright © 2014 Dennis Herschbach

  Print ISBN 978-0-87839-719-8

  eBook ISBN: 978-0-87839-964-2

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition: June 2014

  Cover photo by Diane Hilden

  Published by

  North Star Press of St. Cloud, Inc.

  P.O. Box 451

  St. Cloud, Minnesota 56302

  Books of the Two Harbors mystery series

  by Dennis Herschbach

  Convergence at Two Harbors, 2012

  Seven Graves, Two Harbors, 2013

  A River Through Two Harbors, 2014

  Dedication

  To: Abby, Ande Kate, Berit, Eason, Elsa,

  Emma, Emma, John, Martin,

  Olivia, Roman, Tyler

  May you find peace and love growing among the thorns of life.

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Preface

  Until the Europeans came to North America, prostitution was nearly unheard of among the Indian Nations. As a matter of fact, in their culture women were held in very high esteem. All that has changed in the last hundred years, and today, Native American women are preyed upon in unprecedented numbers.

  Here is a list of facts recorded in an article written by Christine Stark, a Native America woman and researcher, that appeared in the August 4, 2013, issue of the Minneapolis Star Tribune.

  Native American women are the only group who are predomin­antly assaulted by men outside their race. And in prostitution, the vast majority of pimps are white or African-American.

  Trafficking of Native women is rampant in northern Minnesota. Native American women and teens are coerced and groomed into prostitution through gangs and organized crime.

  The Duluth harbor is notorious among Native people as a site for the trafficking of Native women and teens, including First Nation women and girls brought down from Thunder Bay, Ontario, to be sold on the ships.

  Native women, teen girls, boys, and even babies have been sold for sex on the ships.

  A River Through Two Harbors is fiction, but as with much fiction, it is based on truth that is, in some cases, overly dramatized but in others perhaps understated. The river in the title is not literal. It contains no water, only women and girls, victims who are transported down Highway 61 and pass through Two Harbors on their way to the Duluth harbor, and it seems no one much cares.

  Chapter 1

  Deidre Johnson stepped out of her patrol car. On its sides was stenciled Silver Bay Police. As she walked across the paved road, she pulled on a heavy jacket to ward off the frigid November wind that sliced down from the northwest, and she turned up the collar of the coat to protect the back of her neck.

  George Swenson, a longtime acquaintance, was waiting for her, his shoulders hunched against the cold and his hands covered with heavy leather mitts lined with wool inserts.

  “Mornin’,” she called out to George, who stood leaning on the railing of the bridge she had just driven across. “Your call was forwarded by our answering system. Something wrong?”

  George didn’t move. “I’m not sure, Deidre, but I thought I better give you a call. I was taking my morning walk, and came this way. When I was crossing the bridge, I stopped to look at the stream. Looks like something got hit by a car and was thrown down there.” He pointed at the riverbed. “Just a deer, probably. There’s no animal down there, but it might have crawled off and is hiding nearby. Thought maybe you could put it out of it’s misery if its still alive.”

  By that time Deidre was standing beside George, and they looked down at the streambed twenty feet below. A trickle of crystal clear water gurgled as it washed over time-worn boulders, and ice sheets had formed in places where the water flowed more slowly.

  It had snowed the night before, and an inch or so of white powder dusted the exposed rocks and ice.

  “That’s an awful lot of blood,” George commented. “Whatever’s down there is probably dead by now.”

  Deidre shrugged. “A little blood on fresh snow spreads a long way. You’d be surprised how little it takes to make a scene look pretty gruesome. Is there any sign of an animal being hit on the road, fur or tracks on the roadside, any blood up here?”

  George shook his head. “I looked while I was waiting for you, but couldn’t see anything. I didn’t climb down the bank. Thought you wouldn’t want anything disturbed until you found out what’s there.”

  Deidre nodded. “Well, I guess I better take a look. Will you stick around until I get back up? Those rocks look pretty slippery, and if I fall and break a leg, it’d be nice to have some help.” She sort of chuckled but knew it could happen.

  Deidre eased herself around the edge of the bridge railing and began picking her way down the slippery bank. The closer to the bottom she came, the more the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle, not necessarily from the cold wind.

  On the shelf of ice near the stream edge she saw an impression in the snow. It wasn’t recognizable, but she could see a trail leading away as though something had been dragged up under the bridge. She was right. There wasn’t as much blood as it had seemed when she and George looked down from above. It was enough, but probably not so much that whatever animal was pitched over the railing would have died of blood loss. The drag marks were stained crimson, marking the direction of movement.

  Deidre bent down to take a closer look at the trail, and her heart flipped, momentarily skipping a beat. She squinted and looked again, stood up, and inhaled deeply.

  Damn, she thought. Why did I ever take this job? “Shit!” she said out loud.

  George heard her curse and leaned over the railing. “Find something, Deidre?” he called down to her.

  “Nothing yet,” she hollered back to him, and then she stooped down to get a better look at a small handprint in the snow.

  Deidre called the State Highway Patrol dispatcher. “This is officer Deidre Johnson, Silver Bay Police. If you have any troopers in the area, I can use some backup on the outskirts of town. I’m on Highway 3
at the bridge spanning the creek. Follow the road that leads out of town and joins Forest Highway 11. Just before they reach the city limits, they’ll see my squad car. This is an emergency, so have them come as quickly as possible.”

  She fumbled taking the flashlight from its loop on her belt, and tentatively flashed the light into the dark recesses under the bridge abutments. The beam wasn’t strong enough to penetrate all the way into the shadows. Just then she heard a siren approaching, and Deidre decided to meet the trooper before proceeding further. Subconsciously, she didn’t want to face what she feared would be found at the end of the drag marks.

  It was a struggle for her to climb the steep bank to the road, and after several slips and by grasping the few shrubs growing from the rocks, she was able to get close to the top. The two men grasped her hands and helped her up over the edge of the river bank.

  “Hi, Cliff,” she said to the state trooper. “Glad you were close by. It didn’t take you long to get here.”

  She turned to George. “Thanks for taking the time to call this in. I don’t think you want to stay around to see what’s down there. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk to anyone about what you’ve seen, because we’ll need as much time without distraction as we can buy.” She looked him square in the eye. “You know this town. People look for any excitement, and the last thing we need is a crowd.”

  Deidre suspected George had planned to meet his cronies at the one coffee shop in town for their daily gossip session, but George could tell by the tone of Deidre’s voice that this wasn’t the time to argue. As he was leaving, another state trooper arrived. George hurried off. Before the trooper could get out of her car and put on her jacket, Deidre called the county sheriff dispatch and asked that they reroute traffic away from the bridge area.

  “Cliff, will you come down there with me?” she addressed the first trooper. “And, Kathy,” she said, turning to the second, “will you make sure that no one passes this way. Maybe put up some crime tape to cordon off this area,” she asked of the newly arrived officer.

  As Kathy sprinted to her car, Cliff and Deidre began a careful descent to the stream below, only this time she ventured further under the bridge while Cliff covered her move. She shined her light into the angle formed where the bridge bed met the bank.

  “Oh, no!” The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

  “What’d you find?” Cliff knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  “Follow my tracks so we don’t trample any more area than necessary. I don’t want to face this alone, Cliff.”

  He picked his way to where Deidre was standing, and shined his light at the same spot that she had lit up. He wasn’t prepared for what he saw, and he involuntarily gasped.

  “Oh, my God,” he moaned. “Who in the world would have done this?” The two stood silent for a moment, letting his question go unanswered.

  Finally Deidre could speak. “Let me climb up there and check, but I don’t think there is any doubt she’s dead. The frost crystals on her skin mean she’s cold, probably frozen in place, but for the record, we better be sure.”

  Deidre climbed to where the body lay and removing her glove, felt for a pulse. As she expected, the body was as cold as the rocky ground upon which it lay. Deidre retreated to where Cliff waited.

  “If you will, I’d like you to stay down here until I can call in some more help.”

  Cliff nodded and again Deidre began the climb to the road, but this time her feet felt heavier than before. Her first call was to the Twin Cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul.

  “Good morning. Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. This is Mary speaking. How may I direct your call?”

  “I’d like to speak with Dr. Judith Coster, if she’s in.”

  The receptionist needed more information. “May I ask who’s calling?” Her delay irritated Deidre, but she managed to keep her voice level.

  “This is Deidre Johnson. Dr. Coster and I worked on a case in northern Minnesota a little over four years ago. Please connect me with her. This is official business.”

  “Certainly,” Mary complied rather abruptly, maybe sensing that Deidre would not take no for an answer.

  The phone rang twice. “Hello. Dr. Coster speaking.”

  “Hi, Judy. This is Deidre Johnson. How are things with you?”

  “Well, Deidre. What a surprise. It’s been what, six months since we last talked? I’m doing really well. My work is caught up, and I’ve had a week to drink coffee, gather my thoughts, and do some reading. What about you, enjoying retirement?”

  Deidre cleared her throat. “I wish. A few weeks ago, the Silver Bay Counsel asked me to fill in for their one full-time police officer, Dan Butler, who needed elective surgery. They said it’d be for six weeks. I said yes. Wrong answer. I started about five weeks ago. Now I’m up to my eyeballs in something too serious to handle alone. I really need some help and in a hurry. Is there any chance you can come here right away?”

  “What’s so urgent it can’t wait until tomorrow?” Judy wanted to know.

  It took only a couple of minutes for Deidre to explain what she had found under the bridge and that she was still at the scene. She explained she was pretty much on her own and didn’t want to move the body until she had help collecting evidence. The detail of what Deidre found overwhelmed Judy.

  “I can be out of here in a half hour, be up there by one o’clock this afternoon. Do you need anything else?”

  “I was hoping you’d see if Melissa could join us. I’d appreciate the two of you working with me.” Deidre silently offered a prayer to no god in particular.

  “I don’t know her schedule, but after I tell her what you’ve told me, I’m guessing she’ll drop everything and come along for the ride. Better go now. See you in a few hours.”

  Next, Deidre hit the speed dial on her phone and heard it ring once before an automated system answered.

  “You have reached the Duluth District office of the FBI. If you know your party’s extension, please say it now. Otherwise, hold for the operator to handle your call.”

  Deidre said, “Four six seven.” She hated talking to computers. The phone rang three times, and Deidre was prepared to leave a voice mail after a beep when she heard a familiar voice.

  “Good morning. This is Agent Ben VanGotten. How can I help you?”

  “I think I’m beyond help, but I wanted to call you about tonight.”

  “Hey, Deidre. What’s up, girl? I was just sitting here thinking about you.”

  Deidre smiled. “You were, were you? Well, I was thinking of you, too. I’m afraid I’m not going to make it to your place tonight for supper. Something really tragic happened here, and there’s no way I can escape for the evening. Dr. Coster, and I hope Melissa, of the BCA, are on their way up to Silver Bay. Should be here around one or so.”

  Deidre went on to repeat the story she had told to Judy. Ben listened without saying a word. When she finished her story, she heard him sigh.

  “The girls were so excited last night when I told them you were coming for supper, I could hardly get them to go to sleep. To them, you’re Cinderella, Mary Poppins, and a fairy godmother all rolled into one. They’re going to be disappointed. Can we reschedule?” he asked.

  “For sure—for sure,” she answered, “but I can’t set a definite day until I get this cleared up. I’m hoping that won’t take too long. Tell the girls I miss them, and I think of them every day. Tell them we’ll have a really fun day as soon as my job here is done. They’re so delightful, I wish we could see each other more often.”

  “I wish you could too, but for now we both have work to do. Thanks so much for calling. I hope all goes well when Dr. Coster and Melissa arrive. Give them my best, will you?”

  “Sure will. Sorry about tonight. I was looking forward to a happy evening
with you and the girls. Take care now. Bye.”

  Deidre heard a click as Ben hung up, and she buried her phone in her jacket pocket, then walked over to Kathy.

  “It’s too cold for us to stand out here until the BCA arrives. Let’s take shifts while the other two warm up in the vehicles. Kathy, will you take the first shift? I’m about frozen, and Cliff’s been out in the weather for a while too. What say we switch off guarding the site every fifteen minutes? Sound okay?”

  Kathy nodded her approval, and Deidre retreated to her police car. She started the engine and turned on the heater full blast, trying to push out the cold that had permeated her being to her core. She leaned forward and put her forehead on the steering wheel, and with her eyes closed, thought of what she would be missing in Duluth that evening.

  Chapter 2

  After Deidre’s fiancé, John Erickson, had died in her arms, tragically murdered in a drive-by, Deidre pretty much went into seclusion. She sold her house in Two Harbors and moved to an isolated cabin located on a plot of land nearly surrounded by the Superior National Forest. It was a wonderful piece of property, forested with a dense stand of hundred-year-old red pines. Her cabin was on a high bluff overlooking Cedar Lake, and, much to her liking, the driveway was almost a third of a mile long. With the help of her friend who owned Terry’s Bar, they had installed a heavy steel gate with an alarm attached to it. She had a dog and her service revolver, and she felt safe living alone.

  Now, after over four years of mourning, the deep sting of losing John had begun to subside, and finally she took some interest in living. She even found joy in spending a few days at a time in Duluth. It was on one such trip early last summer that she quite literally bumped into Ben, her friend from the FBI.

  They had been classmates in high school, but Deidre developed quite a dislike for him because of his macho ways. They both attended the same police academy and had developed a mutual dislike for each other, a bitterness that was only exacerbated when Deidre, in retalia­tion for his harassment, broke his foot in a training exercise.