‘We confirmed he was at his apartment for part of the evening, but we couldn’t specifically confirm that he was there after 9:45 p.m.’
‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Gale put down one set of papers on the counsel table, and he picked up another folder. ‘Can you tell the court, please, did Jay Ferris file a police report last October 5 regarding an individual with a gun?’
‘Yes, he reported seeing an individual using an assault rifle in the woods near Ely’s Peak.’
‘Mr. Ferris took photographs of this man, did he not?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘Were you able to identify this individual?’
‘No. The photographs weren’t clear enough.’
‘However, your wife believes that she saw this individual in Miller Hall Mall and that he was carrying a handgun, doesn’t she?’
‘My wife followed a man who was similar in appearance to the man in the photographs. We don’t know if it was the same man.’
‘Did he threaten her?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘But you still haven’t identified this man, have you?’ Gale asked.
‘No,’ Stride admitted, ‘we haven’t.’
23
Heather Hubble was a photographer.
Cindy had worked with Heather the previous year following a fall she’d taken while shooting the ice caves of the Apostle Islands. Cindy had seen her twice a week for three months, and during that time, she’d poked into Heather’s life story with her usual curiosity. She learned about Heather’s five-year-old daughter, Lissa, and about the short-lived affair that had produced her. She found out that Heather’s parents didn’t approve of her vegan, out-in-the-woods lifestyle. She pegged Heather as one of the fringe loners dotting the northland, not bothering anyone and not wanting to be bothered.
Heather lived on a dirt road half a mile off the North Shore highway. Dense trees made the small home almost invisible, and the driveway was rutted with mud. It was the kind of house that would have been built decades earlier as a three-season getaway, but Heather lived in it year round. The cabin had been handed down by her grandfather, and it needed work. Fresh paint. Repairs to the roof and the deck. New windows. Cindy knew that Heather didn’t have much money for maintenance.
‘Hi, Cindy,’ Heather said with surprise when she answered the door. ‘What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?’
Cindy smiled. ‘I need your help.’
‘Sure, come on in.’
The small living room smelled of berries from two lit candles. With the windows open, a warm summer breeze made music on wind chimes hung from the ceiling. The house was messy, cluttered with old furniture and children’s toys. Nature photographs in cheap frames adorned the walls, leaving almost no open space. The photographs were good; Heather had a gift.
Heather cleared space on a plaid recliner for Cindy to sit. There were holes worn in the arms, with white fluff poking out from the fabric like drift from a cottonwood. Heather herself flopped down in a rocking chair and bounced back and forth. She wore shorts and a loose green tank top. Her sandy blond hair was shoulder-length, and her pale, freckled skin had no makeup. She was almost thirty, which sounded young to Cindy now. Once upon a time, it had felt old.
‘Where’s Lissa?’ Cindy asked.
Heather rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘My parents took her on vacation with them. Disney World. She’s going to come back with princess dresses and Mickey Mouse earrings. I’m not sure how I managed to raise a girly girl. That must be her father’s DNA coming through. He was always pretty impressed with how he looked.’
‘How’s the photo business?’ Cindy asked.
‘Not bad. Summer is wedding season. Brides are hell, but their daddies pay good money.’
‘And your back? It’s okay?’
‘Yeah, thanks. All the PT really helped. I’ve been pretty good about keeping up with the exercises, and yoga keeps me limber, too.’
‘Good.’
‘What’s going on with you?’ Heather asked. ‘You need some portraits done? Glamour shots for the hubby?’
Cindy laughed. ‘I think that would make Jonny blush. Actually, I have an odd favor to ask. I talked to Kon at Lake Superior Magazine, and she said you took a ton of photos at Grandma’s Marathon this year.’
‘Oh, yeah. Lots.’
‘Do you have many crowd shots?’
‘Sure. Crowd shots. Runners. I staked out several spots along the route, and I got onto the roof above the Canal Park shops so that I could get pics as people hit the finish line.’
‘I’d like to see them,’ Cindy said. ‘Are they all digital?’
‘Yeah, but you’re talking about hundreds of photos. What are you looking for?’
She started to give Heather a brief explanation about the man in Jay Ferris’s photographs, but the explanation got longer when she realized that Heather knew nothing about the murder or the trial. Heather didn’t get the newspaper, and her awareness of current events didn’t extend beyond an occasional report on the MPR classical music station. Cindy gave her the background of the case and then explained about the man she’d followed in the mall who’d eluded the police efforts to find him.
‘One of Jonny’s sergeants thinks he saw this guy in the marathon crowds,’ Cindy went on.
‘And you thought maybe I snapped him?’ Heather asked.
‘Exactly.’
‘That’s one needle in a pretty big haystack. Thousands of people cram the marathon route.’
‘I know.’
Heather shrugged. She went to a rolltop desk in the corner of the living room and dug inside several cubbyhole drawers. Finally, she withdrew a USB flash drive, which she deposited in Cindy’s hand.
‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘That’s a backup drive of all of my marathon pics. Knock yourself out.’
24
‘You lied to get on to that jury, didn’t you?’ Carol Marlowe asked.
Howard’s head snapped up at the dinner table. He put down a square of Sammy’s pizza and stared at his wife. Their six-year-old, Annie, chewed a strand of spaghetti that dangled from her mouth and watched with wide eyes.
‘What do you mean?’ he said.
‘Did you tell them you’re obsessed with that doctor?’ Carol asked.
‘No, I didn’t, because that’s not true.’
‘Oh, really? You think so? I’ve got a good mind to call the judge. How many articles about Dr. Perfect would they find if they searched your computer?’
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ he protested. ‘So I read some things about the case. Everybody in town did the same thing. I can still be objective.’
‘Sure you can.’ His wife cut a square of pizza in half and stabbed it with a fork. ‘Annie, stop playing with your spaghetti.’
Howard went back to his dinner in silence. Carol was jealous. She resented that he was in the midst of something big — that he had a starring role in a drama that was consuming the city. He didn’t believe she’d follow through with her threat about calling the judge, but the thought of it made him nervous. If they looked, yes, they’d find articles about the case on his computer. And pictures of Janine Snow he’d gathered around the web. He’d be kicked off the jury, which was the thing he feared most. This was the event of his life.
‘So what’s your plan, Howard?’ Carol continued, not letting the subject drop. ‘Do you have some fantasy of rescuing her? Will you be the one to convince the jury to let her off, and she’ll be grateful to you forever?’
‘That’s crazy,’ Howard said. ‘I’m doing what the judge said. I’m keeping an open mind until I hear all the evidence. Now would you drop it, please? I’m not allowed to talk about the case, so stop asking me about it.’