Preying in Two Harbors Read online

  Sig didn’t say a word to Dan as he sped to Seventh Avenue, rolled through a red light as he turned right, and was at the hospital before Dan could get his seatbelt adjusted. Together they rushed to the reception desk.

  “We need to find the man I brought in last night,” Dan explained before Sig could take over. “His name’s James O’Brian.”

  The receptionist ran her fingers down a list of names. “Mr. O’Brian is in lockdown right now. You’ll have to stop at the nurse’s station on the second floor and have one of them let you in.”

  Both men hurried up the stairs. The elevator was notoriously slow.

  “We need to talk to the guy who was admitted to detox last night,” Dan said as they reached the nurse’s station. “Can you let us into his room?”

  The nurse, a recent hire, looked up at them, slight panic in her eyes. “I don’t know. Let me check with my supervisor.” She turned to a woman standing nearby. “Jane, would you come here a second? These officers have a request.”

  Jane looked up from the chart she was holding and smiled. “Sig, what can we do for you?”

  Sig explained the situation to her, leaving out the information about Justin Peters. She retreated to behind the counter and came back with a key. “He’s pretty sedated right now, lorazepam, but he might be able to talk to you. Make sure you lock his door when you leave . . . and don’t forget to drop off the key,” she scolded and nervously laughed at the same time.

  It was obvious that Dan and Sig were on a mission as they marched down the hall. Sig unlocked the door to the room and gave a short knock. Not waiting for an invitation, he pushed the door open.

  James “Hammer” O’Brian was reclining on his bed, but his eyes were open. Groggily, he tried to sit up. “Huh? What do you want?” he slurred.

  Dan could see that the man’s eyes were glazed, and he was having a difficult time focusing on their faces. “Are you James O’Brian?” Sig questioned.

  James had thrown his legs over the side of the bed and sat with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. He spoke without looking up.

  “Yeah, that’s me. Nobody calls me that unless I’m in trouble, though.”

  “What do they usually call you?” Sig wanted to know.

  “Hammer.”

  “Do you remember me from last night?” Dan broke into the conversation.

  Hammer looked at him through bleary eyes and shook his head. “Should I?”

  “I brought you to the ER. Do you remember anything?” Hammer shook his head again.

  Sig picked up the questioning. “Did you wear a baseball cap yesterday?” Hammer tried to remember.

  “Yeah, yeah. I think I did. Do you have it?”

  “Maybe.” Sig wasn’t going to provide information. “Could you identify it if you saw it?”

  Again the drugged man had to think hard. “It’s black, and has a Harley symbol on it. And my name. It’s got my name, Hammer, on it.”

  Sig dropped the subject. “Got pretty wasted yesterday, didn’t you?”

  Hammer sort of snickered but then held his head as though it hurt pretty bad. “Guess so. I don’t remember much. I was out at our clubhouse.”

  Sig interrupted. “The one up by the Gun Club Road?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. Had a few beers was all. Then I came into town.”

  “Alone?” Sig asked.

  “Yeah, alone. I stopped at The Pub and had a couple more beers. Then went over to the Legion. I think I had a couple shots of vodka there.”

  “Where’d you get the bottle?” Dan asked.

  “Bottle, bottle? Oh yeah, I think I stopped at the liquor store and bought a bottle.”

  “Of what?” Dan pressured.

  “Vodka. I only drink vodka. Oh, and beer.” Hammer ran his fingers through his hair and continued to hold his head.

  “Looks like a pretty nasty cut you have on your hand,” Sig said as he glanced down at Hammer. “How’d you get that?”

  Hammer looked at his bandaged hand and touched the spot where blood had oozed through the dressing. He shook his head.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” Dan asked.

  Hammer thought for a good thirty seconds. “I think I ended up down at the breakwater. Then I don’t know what happened. I suppose you’re going to get me for a DWI, and I’ll lose my license.”

  “Something like that,” Sig said. “We’re going to leave you while we take care of some paperwork. If you think of anything else that happened last night, let us know.”

  The officers left Hammer’s room and locked the door. At the desk, when they returned the key, Sig asked Jane, “Do you have his personal effects stored someplace?”

  Jane left for a minute and came back with a plastic bin. “Just the clothes on his back and his wallet,” she said.

  “Dan, run down to my car and get some evidence bags. They’re in the trunk.” He turned to Jane. “Is there a conference room we can use for a few minutes?”

  “To the end of the hall, on your right. It’s labeled “Family Conference Room.” You’re welcome to use it.”

  Dan hurried down the stairs, and Sig carried the bin of clothes to where they would be examining what had become evidence. In minutes, Dan returned with a kit and several evidence bags. They each put on rubber gloves and began digging through the bin.

  Hammer’s shirt was a mess, and it looked as if he had rolled in muddy grass. They looked it over closely but found nothing. It went into one bag. The jeans he was wearing when Dan had called the ambulance were in the same condition. They pretty much skipped his underwear, which was repulsively dirty. Dan picked up Hammer’s left boot and held it to the light.

  “Sig, look at this.” He positioned the boot so Sig could get a good look.

  “Looks like dried blood on the toe. Geeze, that must be a size thirteen, with a steel toe.” He dug in the evidence kit and came up with a sterile swab and a bottle of distilled water. After soaking the swab, he ran it over the stain on the boot and was rewarded with the swab tip turning red. He put it in a sterile envelope and marked it time, date, place, and the origin of the sample.

  “The lab should be able to get a good read from this,” he said. “If not, there’s plenty left on the boot. How about the other one?”

  Dan bagged the boot and picked up the other. Neither man could spot anything that resembled a blood smear. After an hour, all of Hammer’s belongings were bagged as evidence.

  “I’ll take this down to the car and lock it up,” Sig said. “Meet me at Hammer’s room. I think it’s time to visit him again.”

  Dan picked up the key at the nurse’s station and waited outside the detox door until Sig returned. They unlocked the door, rapped once, and entered the room. This time Hammer was sitting on the edge of his bed, but his eyes said his brain was still in a fog.

  “What?” he said as he looked up at the officers.

  “James Peter O’Brian,” Dan said, “you are under arrest for the murder of Justin Peters. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say . . .” Dan finished reading Hammer his rights.

  The words had an effect on Hammer, and he stood up. “Wait . . . wait. What are you talking about? I never killed nobody.” Then he scowled. “I want to call a lawyer, right now.”

  Sig shrugged. “I’ll have a nurse get you a phone. In the meantime, Dan is going to guard your door. You’ll be under guard for the remainder of your stay here, and then you’ll be transferred to the jail. That should be day after tomorrow. Do you have anything to say?”

  Hammer was in a daze and shook his head.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday was another beautiful spring day, and Ben drove his family into town to attend church. Deidre didn’t buy into all
of the ritual of the Lutheran faith, but she had to admit that attending church each Sunday provided a comfortable rhythm for her life.

  During the sermon, she allowed her mind to wander as she usually did, and by the time the pastor finished his message, she had worked through part of her dilemma. She was convinced she needed more than being a stay-at-home mom. She needed a purpose. As the congregation finished singing the hymn of the day, Deidre stood in silence. She was sure her voice would draw unwanted attention, being she always sang a little off-key.

  The service ended, and Deidre joined the other members of the congregation as they filed past the pastor, and she heard comments like, “Wonderful message,” and “I just loved the last hymn we sang. It was so meaningful.” When it was her turn, Deidre shook his hand and murmured, “Have a nice day.” She regretted that she couldn’t think of anything more spiritual to say.

  When they arrived home, Deidre instructed the girls to change into play clothes so they wouldn’t soil what they wore. She jabbed at Ben, “You too. Don’t you dare go into the garden with your dress pants on.”

  “Who, me?” Ben clowned, knowing she had a valid reason for saying what she did. She poked him in the ribs again.

  “Yes, you.” By that time they were in the house, and Deidre busied herself fixing lunch. Soon everyone was fed, had scattered to do what they wanted, and Deidre was left to think over her options. In a small town like Two Harbors, they were few.

  “Come on, Deidre,” Ben called through the open door. “Let’s take a walk up the road before the sun sets and it cools off. It’s too nice a day to sit inside.” He came to where Deidre was sitting looking out the window, took her hand, and helped her out of the chair.

  Hand-in-hand they strolled down the dirt road, not really walking for fitness, but for the joy of being outside together. Their talk was random, skipping from topic to topic, and soon they were a mile from home.

  “I wonder what goes on back there?” Deidre asked as they passed a gated driveway, knowing Ben had no answer. “Ever since they put in that road, I’ve wondered if there’s some building going on back in the woods. They can’t be logging, or we would see haul trucks going past our place.”

  Deidre was referring to a large tract of land that abutted their forty acres on the back and on one side. In the 1950s it had been owned by a paper company, but for one reason or another the board of directors had decided to divest themselves of the thousands of acres they owned in Lake County. One of the tracts, over seven hundred acres, was the parcel she wondered about. The company sold off its holdings for under two dollars an acre, and some was bought by individuals. Most was grabbed by investors.

  Two years ago, heavy equipment moved in, and a road was pushed into the property next to them, “no trespassing” signs went up, and a heavy steel gate barred anyone from entering. Since then, they had witnessed little traffic going in or out.

  “It’s a puzzle, isn’t it?” Ben mused. “I seldom hear any noise, and when I do, it’s from way back in. Sometimes, I think I hear gun shots, but the retorts are so close together, only a machine gun could hammer that fast. Then I wonder if it’s a jackhammer. You don’t suppose they’re drilling into bedrock for some reason? Not long ago, I thought I heard an explosion. Well, as long as they stay on their side of the line, we don’t have anything to complain about. You know the saying, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’ I suppose that’s true, even if there isn’t a literal fence.”

  Still hand-in-hand, they walked home, had supper, and enjoyed the evening together after the twins went to bed.

  *****

  Sig paid another visit to the hospital Monday morning. Dan had returned to his post at Hammer’s hospital door and joined Sig inside the patient’s room. Sig called ahead to tell Hammer he was coming, and when he and Dan entered the room, they were greeted by T.J. Compton.

  “Mornin’, Sig. How’s it goin’?” the attorney asked in his down-home way. T.J. had a way of playing an uneducated person.

  “Good, T.J. And how are you, Counselor?” Both men knew the pleasantries were nothing but fronts. They had no animosity toward each other, but they knew they were on opposite sides of the fence.

  “We’d like to ask your client some questions this morning.”

  T.J. took out a notepad and sat down on the one chair in the room, forcing Dan and Sig to remain standing. “We can’t stop you from asking, but we may not be able to answer.”

  “All right. Hammer—”

  “Excuse me, Sig. I don’t want to have to butt in already, but my client’s name is James, Jimmy is okay, and from now on I’d like him addressed in that manner.”

  Sig half smiled and nodded. “Jim.” He didn’t want to give in entirely. “Jim, were you anywhere near the soccer field by Paul Antonich Drive last Friday?”

  Jimmy shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

  “Do you remember where you were at all last Friday?”

  “Like I told you yesterday, I came in from our clubhouse around evening, ditched my bike, and drove my pickup downtown.”

  Sig made some notes on his pad. Jimmy hadn’t told them that yesterday. “Then what?”

  “I drove to The Pub and had a couple of beers.” While Jimmy answered, T. J. watched the officers’ reaction to his words. Sig nodded as though what Jimmy said was in agreement with what was known.

  “I walked down the street to the Legion Club and had a few more beers. After that, I remember buying a bottle of vodka at the Municipal Liquor Store.”

  Sig interrupted. “What brand did you buy?”

  “Svedka. That’s all I ever drink. It’s good stuff, you know.”

  Sig nodded his head as if in agreement. “Was that the empty found in your truck when Officer Zemple took you in?”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I suppose. Don’t think anybody would have thrown an empty in my pickup while I was passed out.”

  “Did you ever get out of your pickup between the time you left the liquor store and when Officer Zemple found you?”

  Jimmy thought for several seconds, and Sig gave him time to dredge up any details of that night.

  Finally, Jimmy answered Sig’s question. “I sort of remember having to take a leak and getting out of the truck to go.”

  “Do you remember where that was?”

  “Not really. I think I walked through some short grass. Oh, and I tripped over something. I remember rolling ass over teakettle. That must have been when my cap came off. After that, I don’t remember anything. Oh.” Sig straightened up in anticipation of something more concrete. “I remember having a tough time getting up the ditch bank to my truck. I must have made it, because he,” he nodded toward Dan, “found me down by the breakwater. That’s all I know.”

  “Just a couple more questions,” Sig said. “Jim, do you know a Justin Peters?”

  T.J. abruptly stood up. “I’m sorry, Sig. I’m going to advise Jimmy not to answer anymore of your questions. He was brought in here on Saturday night, and yesterday you informed him he was under arrest. Jimmy’s told me you read him his rights, and we aren’t going to contest that.” T.J. began to push a few papers into his briefcase. “My client will be transported to the county jail tomorrow. When do you intend to arraign him?”

  Sig expected that question. “Tuesday. I’ll have it scheduled this afternoon, and you can check the court docket for the time.”

  “Thanks, Sig.” T.J. extended his hand. “By the way, you are not free to question my client about any aspect of this case without my being present. Just thought I’d remind you. See you tomorrow, Jimmy. Dan.” T.J. nodded to the officers and left the room.

  “We’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow,” Sig said to Jimmy. “Dan, I want you stay at your post until you’re relieved at five.”

  Chapter Six

 
On Monday morning, Deidre sent her family off, Ben to work, Megan and Maren to school. She was standing at the sink, mindlessly humming a tune while she did dishes and looked out the window. A deer, a pregnant doe, crossed the yard, and she smiled to herself at the thought of a fawn cavorting around in two or three weeks. She was jolted from the idyllic moment by her cell phone ringing. I wonder which one of them forgot something? she thought. She looked at the caller ID and was surprised to see it wasn’t one of her three.

  “Hello, Deidre speaking.”

  “Deidre, this is T.J. Compton. Do you have a minute to talk?”

  Deidre was rather speechless for a moment but was able to respond. “Sure, what’s on your mind?”

  T.J. was a familiar figure in town. He was a Two Harbors boy made good, graduated from the local college, UMD, and then from the U of M School of Law. He came back home to set up practice and had a small law office on the main street of downtown. Everyone knew him or of him.

  T.J. began his pitch, and Deidre could picture him sitting behind his desk. He didn’t look like an attorney. He was prematurely bald and sported a “cookie-duster” moustache, and with his stocky build and spectacles, he didn’t make an imposing figure. But looks could be deceiving, and Deidre remembered seeing him in action. She had thought to herself if she ever was in need of a defense attorney, it would be him.

  “Deidre, I have a proposition for you.” He laughed over the phone. “Now don’t go running to Ben with this news. It isn’t that kind of proposition. I’d like to hire you to work for my law firm.”

  Deidre answered without thinking. “T.J., I don’t know anything about working in a law office. I type with two fingers, know nothing about filing systems, and am a complete idiot when it comes to computers.”

  The attorney cut her off. “I’m not asking you to do those things. Tell you what, I’m in court for the rest of the day. Are you willing to come into my office at eight tomorrow morning? I’m always more persuasive face to face than over the phone.” Deidre could hear him chuckle. “Will you hear me out?”