“I told Floyd that we’re getting married,” she said to the shower curtain. “He was okay with it.”
“What did you expect?” Sandy asked over the sound of the water.
“I don’t know. I expected maybe he’d ask why, or that he’d laugh. He seemed happy for me. It was so weird. I guess I don’t know how to react to nice people. I expect everyone to be mean or sarcastic; that’s the way people are.”
Sandy stepped out of the shower and wiped his face. “I’m not that way, am I?”
“No, but you’re the only one.”
“Isn’t Gordy nice, too?”
“To my face, but I know everyone talks behind my back.”
Sandy draped the towel on the rack and pulled her against his naked body. “There’s a whole world of people out there who will accept you for what you are and they won’t make fun of you or talk behind your back.” He kissed her. “Really. It’s true. All the people in the department will be happy for us and they’ll come to our wedding. They’ll cry tears of joy and they’ll celebrate with us.”
Barb searched his eyes for a sign of mirth. “You’re serious. People who know what I was will come to our wedding?”
“They’ll accept you for what you are now, and they’ll invite us to Fourth of July picnics and Christmas parties.” Sandy took both her hands in his. “This is what it means to be part of a community and to have a family. The department is my family and they’ll like you as much as they like me.”
“I might not cry at the wedding,” Barb said. “I’m not much into crying anymore.”
“I’m okay with that, but I think that seeing all those wet hankies will do you in.”
“Do you really want kids?” Barb asked.
“Someday. Have you thought any more about a wedding date?”
“I want to have it in the summer, so we can have it at sunrise by a lake.”
“So, you’re thinking about next summer?” Sandy asked.
“Why wait ’til then?” Barb asked, pressing her body against his.
“It takes time to find a minister and plan a reception.” He said softly into her ear. “I’m guessing we couldn’t even get announcements printed in less than three weeks. That puts us into August.”
“I have connections at the drugstore. I could print invitations in two days” she said, pushing her pelvis against his. “Let’s do it next week,” she said, nipping his earlobe.
“I don’t know if I can get any time off on short notice.”
“Which days are you off?”
Sandy pushed her to arm’s length. “Don’t you want a honeymoon?”
“We can have a one-night honeymoon now and take a trip up to Grand Marais when you get a week off.”
CHAPTER 17
Floyd didn’t sleep well and he was feeling out of sorts when he got to the courthouse. Pam Ryan was making a fresh pot of coffee in the bullpen when he brought his cup over.
“You look like hell,” she said, filling the water reservoir.
“I always appreciate words of encouragement when I’m functioning on three hours of sleep,” Floyd said as he watched the coffee dribble into the carafe. “I jumped out of bed every time the house creaked or the wind shifted. I probably wore out my holster pulling out the Smith & Wesson every fifteen minutes.”
“The note freaked you out a little?” Pam asked.
“When it gets personal I lose my perspective.” Floyd said, looking at the ceiling. “This whole investigation is nothing. Everyone who was involved was drunk and can’t remember what happened. It’s going nowhere. I was ready to give it up and then someone leaves a note at my house. Now my curiosity is piqued. Somebody has something to hide and I feel compelled to find the secret.”
“They may have been drunk,” Pam said, “but one couple remembered leaving the bar to neck on some back road and another woman remembered she’d been assaulted. Then there are the parents. Maybe they remember something that happened or was said.”
The coffee pot gurgled, signaling the end of the brew process and Floyd poured himself a cup. He took a sip and grimaced. “How can this pot consistently make the worst cup of coffee in the county? It always tastes like it was brewed with manure instead of ground coffee.”
“You’re welcome to make coffee any time you like,” Pam said a little too sharply. “I’ll write the directions out for you.”
“Sorry,” Floyd said. “I didn’t mean it as a personal comment. It’s just that it seems to taste bad no matter who makes it.”
“I think you need to go home and get a few more hours of sleep,” Pam suggested. “You’re too grumpy to be much good around here.”
“Actually, I thought I’d drive down to the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension’s St. Paul office to see if they can raise any prints off the envelope and note. They can fume the paper with superglue and may be able to pick up some latent prints. I’ll have them test the rope, too. Maybe they’ll be able to get DNA off it, or even a hair. Who knows?”
“We’re grasping at straws?” Pam asked.
“There’s not much else to go on after all these years.” Floyd paused. “When were you last in Redwood Falls?” Floyd asked, remembering that Pam had grown up in Blue Earth in southern Minnesota.
“It’s not on the way to Blue Earth, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve been there a couple times. Why do you ask?”
Floyd set his coffee on a desk and sat on the desk chair. “I spoke with Melissa Schotten, Ken Solstad’s girlfriend at the time. She remembered the night Ken, Aaron, and Kathy Tucker dropped her off, but claimed she didn’t know what happened to the others.” Floyd paused, then added, “I think she was having some problems relating to me. She’d been raped by Ken Solstad that night and never reported it. I guess it would be fair to say that she didn’t want to talk to me about that night, Ken, Aaron, or what happened.”
“Imagine that. A woman was raped long ago, didn’t report it then, and isn’t happy when a cop calls her out of the blue to talk about it.” Pam said, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess. She lives in Redwood Falls and you were hoping I’d drive down and talk to her in hopes of gleaning some information she wouldn’t reveal to you.”
“That’s it in a nutshell,” Floyd said. Then he recounted the discussion with Melissa, including the argument between Kathy and Aaron that kept them distracted from the attack on Melissa.
Pam listened with sadness. “That’s terrible. But rather than rehashing that night with Melissa, don’t you think we’d do better talking to Kathy Tucker? After all, she was the one person out of the three remaining who is close by and who was with Ken and Aaron after Melissa was delivered home.”
“I talked to her,” Floyd said. “She was too drunk to remember what happened that night. I thought I might talk to her parents to see what they remembered, but I think Kathy’s a lost cause. She used to have a serious drinking problem, and I’m sure there are a lot of nights she doesn’t remember over several years.”
“I think that might be a cop-out so to speak. I’d like to talk to Kathy before torturing Melissa further. If it’s okay with you, I’ll interview her while you run the evidence to the BCA office. Maybe I’ll ask her parents a few questions too.”
“I’m too tired to argue,” Floyd said, getting up and pouring another cup of coffee. “I’ll talk to you this afternoon if I don’t fall asleep first.”
“Are you safe to drive to the Cities?” Pam asked.
“Sure. I’ll bring a cup of coffee along so I have something to chew as I drive.”
“Ha, ha. That’s so funny I almost forgot to laugh,” Pam said. “Where can I find Kathy Tucker?”