“Yes, that’s true.”
“Do you have any idea what that could have been?”
“I don’t. We asked her about it. She shrugged us off, which was typical. She didn’t open up about things to us. Nikki had a lot of problems, Detective, I won’t deny that. We didn’t always have the best relationship with her, because we thought some of her behavior put Delaney at risk.”
“You mean the drinking?” Serena asked.
“Yes.”
“How bad was it?”
“Very bad. She had a serious problem and didn’t seem capable of dealing with it. There were times I’d have to go pick her up on a street somewhere. Or strangers would take her home and spend the night. A couple of times Delaney even had to go get Nikki by herself, even though Delaney was only fifteen and had no license. So no, we weren’t happy about any of that.”
The description gave Serena flashbacks of her own teenage life. Her own blackouts. And Samantha’s, too. She remembered all the times she’d brought Samantha home herself, just like Delaney had done with Nikki.
Fifteen years old. No license.
A reflection in the mirror.
“However, Nikki being an alcoholic doesn’t mean she killed herself,” Paul Vavra went on firmly. “She would never have left Delaney alone. And even if that was what she chose to do, believe me, she would have found some other way to kill herself before she used a gun.”
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Nikki hated guns. She was adamant about it. She didn’t want a gun in the house because of Delaney.”
“I don’t recall your mentioning that when we talked two years ago,” Serena said.
“Maybe I didn’t, but you were halfway out the door the whole time, weren’t you?”
“Yes. Again, I’m sorry. So you don’t have any idea what was troubling Nikki before her death? She didn’t say anything?”
“No.”
“Did you talk to Delaney about it?”
“We asked once, but Delaney shut us down. She’s a little like her mother that way.”
“Do you think she knows?”
“I have no idea.”
“According to my notes, Delaney was staying with you that weekend in May. Nikki was home alone in Proctor. Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“Was there a reason Delaney was staying with you?”
“No. She did it a lot. My wife liked fussing over her granddaughter. I also think Delaney sometimes needed a little break from her mother. In some ways, Delaney was the adult in that house, and there were times when she needed an opportunity to be a child again. I suppose that makes no sense to you.”
“Actually, it makes a lot of sense,” Serena said.
“I’m afraid Nikki liked time alone, too. It was easier to drink that way.”
“Did you talk to your daughter that last weekend? Or do you know if Delaney called home?”
“Not that I recall.”
“How is Delaney?” Serena asked. “Does she still live with you?”
“No. She’s a freshman at UMD. She has an apartment near campus.”
“Really? My adopted daughter, Cat, is a freshman there, too. Delaney must be pretty young to be in college, though, isn’t she?”
She heard a note of pride in Paul Vavra’s voice. “Delaney is incredibly bright, as well as being a beautiful girl. She skipped fourth grade, so she’s always been a year younger than her classmates. Even with everything she went through losing her mother, she never lost a step academically. We told her she could take time off, but she didn’t want that.”
“I remember thinking she was a special girl,” Serena said.
“Yes, she is.”
“Do you mind if I talk to her? I’d like to ask her some questions.”
“Talk to her if you want, but I don’t think she’ll be very responsive.”
“Why is that?”
“Delaney spent a lot of time getting past the death of her mother,” Paul explained. “And then the death of her grandmother, too. She’s known a lot of loss for someone so young. Her focus is on the future, not the past, and that’s as it should be. She almost never talks about what happened to Nikki. In fact, she hardly ever mentions Nikki. But I suppose she still thinks about her mother, even if she pretends it’s all behind her.”
“Yes,” Serena replied. “Yes, believe me, she does.”
Lance Beaton looked like a cat who’d snatched a bird right off a tree branch. Stride watched the detective from Superior march toward them from Hink Miller’s house, where Lance, a dozen of his officers, and the team from the Douglas County Medical Examiner’s office had spent the last two hours examining the crime scene. Even without a smile, Lance’s face boasted a whiff of self-satisfaction. He carried a paper grocery bag from Super One Foods, and his hands were covered by tight plastic gloves. There was no indication of what was in the bag.
“Lance found something,” Maggie said with a groan.
“Yup.”
“We’re never going to hear the end of this.”
“Nope.”
“Look at him. He’s got a hard-on.”
“Mags.”
“I’m serious. He’s flying the flag. Do you know what the Superior cops call him?” She made a vulgar motion with her right hand. “Beatin’ Beaton.”
“Mags.”
“How many Lance Beatons does it take to change a light bulb?” Maggie continued.
“Mags.”
“Oh, come on.”
Stride gave in and said, “How many?”
“None. You don’t change a dim bulb.”
Stride finally chuckled, and Maggie grinned wickedly.
“See? You missed me.”
“I never said I didn’t.”
Lance crossed the dirt road to join them. The grocery bag swung in his hand, but he held it in a way that they couldn’t see what was inside. Maggie shot a quick but obvious look at the cop’s loose trousers and gave Stride a wink.
“Beatin’,” Maggie whispered.
Stride had to choke back another laugh.
“I figured I’d give you two an update,” Lance said.
“An update an hour ago would have been even better,” Maggie replied.
“We were busy.”
“Did you find any sign of Chelsey Webster?” Stride asked.
Lance shook his head. “No. Even if you’re right that she was transported in the trunk of the Taurus, there’s no evidence to suggest she was kept on the property. We searched the house, the basement, and the garage, and we had people go through the woods to look for any signs of a burying place. Your vic isn’t here.”
“What about the bodies?”
“The ME thinks they were killed sometime yesterday afternoon. The gun used on Hink was a 9 mm. When we recover the bullets, we’ll feed them into the system and let you know if we get a match.”
“Is there anything else in the house?” Maggie asked.
“We’re going through Hink’s computer, but so far, there’s nothing but porn. We’ll make copies of any electronic and paper records we find, since I assume you’ll want all of that.”
“Yes, we will,” Stride said.
“Plus you can throw in the porn,” Maggie added.
Stride smothered a laugh and waited for Lance to do the same, but the detective remained stoically immune to Maggie’s sense of humor.
“Did you see anything that would link Hink Miller to Gavin Webster?” Stride asked.
“No, nothing.”
“What about a man who goes by the name Broadway?”
Lance looked puzzled. “Broadway?”
“It’s a nickname. We think he runs an illegal poker game near the docks in Duluth. Gavin Webster’s part of it, and we’d like to know if Hink was, too. The word we got is that Hink did a lot of freelance security.”
“If we find anything, I’ll let you know,” Lance replied.