“Um, I don’t start work until one, so I can meet you for lunch and then go to work. Where would you like to meet?”
“How about the Dairy Queen?”
“Okay.” Barb paused, then asked. “Did Sandy ask you to call me?”
“Barb, I think you and Sandy getting married is a wonderful thing. I love weddings, and I’m really excited that you’re going to let me be part of the planning.”
“You’re a shit,” Barb said as Sandy walked into their apartment after his shift.
“I love you, too,” Sandy replied as he locked the door. “So, what did I do to earn that greeting?”
“You told Floyd to have his girlfriend call me, didn’t you?”
“Mary called you?”
“You know damned well that she called me. I don’t like being manipulated.”
“I told Floyd and Mary that we were getting married and that you wanted to do it soon. She said that you’d need help because there are so many things to plan, and I left it at that. If she called you, it was because she wanted to help.”
Barb’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve met her, and she’s a nice, professional lady, and I’m hardly a lady. Why would she offer to help me?”
“Because she’s nice and she likes to do nice things. What did she tell you?”
“She said that weddings were fun and she asked if she could be part of it. She said something about me not having any family around to help and that she would like to help if I’d let her.”
“She asked permission?”
“Isn’t that weird?” Barb asked.
Pam Ryan was turning off the television when the phone rang. Her mother knew that the only sure time to catch her home was just before bed, so Pam picked up the phone expecting her mother’s voice.
“Pam, this is Mary Jungers. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure, what’s up?” Her mind searched for a reason Floyd would be calling at 9:00 in the evening and came up blank.
“Floyd just told me that Sandy Maki and Barb are getting married. I talked to Barb a few minutes ago and we’re getting together tomorrow over lunch to start wedding plans. Sandy said that Barb wants to get married in the next few weeks, and she doesn’t have any family in the area, so I thought it might be fun to have a wedding shower for her.”
Of all the possible reasons for Mary to call, a wedding shower for Barb Dupre didn’t even make the list. “I hadn’t even thought of that,” Pam said. “But I think that would be really nice. Barb doesn’t have many friends here and she might be pleased if we could get some women together to throw a shower.”
“Great! Start putting together a list of people we should invite. I’ll start looking through some cookbooks for recipes. We can have it at Floyd’s house. Since the wedding may be coming up fast, we’d better think about a day next week for the party.”
Spot growled as she lay next to the bed. Floyd’s eyes popped open and he listened to the wind blowing through the pine trees. Something unheard by Floyd made the dog’s ears perk as she let out another low growl. Floyd sat on the edge of the bed. The display on the clock said 2:34.
“What did you hear, girl? You think we’ve got another raccoon raiding the bird feeder?” he asked as he eased out of bed. He pulled open the nightstand drawer and took out his pistol. He quietly walked through the dark house with the dog at his side, her toenails clicking on the hardwood floor and her ears perked.
The night breeze caused the living room drapes to stir. Floyd gently spread the curtains and peeked out the window toward the bird feeder. Fireflies made irregular loops in the backyard, their eerie neon glow flicking on and off, and tree frogs peeped in the darkness. The frogs stopped abruptly.
“Something scared the frogs,” Floyd said to the dog.
A clicking sound emanated from beyond the living room and Spot launched herself toward the kitchen, barking and snarling, the ten-pound terrier mix acting like she was a hundred-pound attack dog. Floyd followed behind, cocking the pistol as he walked.
Spot scratched at the door and whined. The clicking noise repeated itself as a gust of wind caught the storm door. After a quick look through the window, he opened the door and Spot pushed through the unlatched screen door and raced into the night barking.
“It’s the wind,” Floyd said to the air where Spot had been standing. “The screen door wasn’t latched.” He stepped onto the patio and whistled. Spot stopped barking, and came trotting back from the darkness, strutting like she’d just driven off a threat.
As he turned back he saw the business-sized white envelope that dangled from a strip of Scotch tape on the screen door.
Floyd stepped to the phone and dialed the dispatcher. “This is Floyd. Send the nearest cruiser to my house.”
Spot pushed past him and lay in the corner of the kitchen, licking the dew from her feet. “I guess there mustn’t be any imminent threat,” Floyd observed. The dog curled into a corner and closed her eyes, content that the house was safe.
After a few minutes, a car engine slowed on the road. The dog stood up at the engine sound and started barking at the sound of crunching gravel.
Floyd stepped out the door in his boxers and waved at the cruiser. “Bring in your evidence kit,” he told Kerm Rajacich.
Floyd carefully pulled the envelope from the door with forceps, and pulled the folded paper from inside the envelope. It fell open enough so he could read the carefully printed words inside.
Let him rest in peace
Floyd called dispatch. “Get someone over to Kathy Tucker’s and Mike Nelson’s houses,” Floyd said to the dispatcher. “I want to know if their cars have been driven recently.”
“It has to be someone connected who wants us to drop the investigation,” Floyd said to Rajacich.
“I’ll play the devil’s advocate,” Said Kerm. “I think it’s someone who’s reconciled themselves to whatever happened and doesn’t want us to reopen the wound. I’m thinking it’s either Aaron Roberts’ or Ken Solstad’s parents. They took the emotional brunt of the disappearance and death. I think they don’t want to relive it now.”
“I can understand Solstad’s,” Floyd said. “They buried their son and that case is closed. I think the Roberts will be pleased to have the case reopened so they might get closure on Aaron’s disappearance.”
“It’s got to be terrible losing a child and not knowing what happened,” Kerm said. “Remember the Jacob Wetterling case in Stearns County? He disappeared more than twenty years ago and his mother is still a national advocate for missing children. It’s one of those things that’s never forgotten.”
The kitchen phone startled everyone when it rang. Floyd picked it up and spoke to Sergeant Tom Trent. From the one-sided conversation Floyd understood that Tom was in Kathy Tucker’s driveway and that neither of the two cars in her driveway were warm.
“Drive over to Solstad’s and check their cars, too.” Floyd listened for a few more seconds and then hung up.
Floyd took a cream container out of the refrigerator and retrieved two spoons from the drawer. “Let’s assume someone is pleading with us to stop investigating because of the pain it’s causing. Other than the Solstads and the Roberts, who else is feeling pain?”
“It’d be good to know who else Ken Solstad and Aaron Roberts were close to,” Kerm suggested. “It sounds like the six people together the night before Aaron disappeared were close, but was there someone else? Did one of their buddies have to work that night, or was someone out of town?”
“I looked through my notes from the original investigation and those six were a pretty tight group. But, that’s probably a good question to ask again,” Floyd said, making a note. “I asked all those questions at the time, but sometimes people’s memories are clouded by the overwhelming events of the moment.”