Dakota Meltdown

“I have the crime lab looking at it. It looked like blood.” Brenna drew in a deep breath, her lungs tight in her chest. “I haven’t figured out why he sent me the letter.”

Agent Tarver faced her, his eyes narrowed. “Think he might be a past conviction?”

“Maybe.”

The FBI agent’s attention jerked back to the whiteboard and he pointed a finger at the first mark. “Why now?”

Chief Burkholder offered, “Perhaps he’s freshly out of jail and wants revenge.”

God, she hated to think she was the reason a man was kidnapping and maybe killing other women. Nothing like a load of guilt to weigh her down during this investigation. All the more reason to catch him as soon as possible.

Nick’s gaze caught hers.

Brenna looked away first, with the uncomfortable certainty that Tarver could read her thoughts.

He turned to the chief. “I want a scan on all the criminals Jensen had a hand in putting away, which ones are out on parole and those living in the area.”

With a self-satisfied toss of her hair, she interjected, “I already have a colleague back in Bismarck doing just that. He should fax it any time to this station.”

“So where does that leave us?” Chief Burkholder asked the room.

“Three missing women, no bodies and only speculation on motivation. And a letter that could be a hoax sent to a state criminal investigator.” Nick lifted the letter. “Looks like a typical computer printout. Could be anyone.”

A blond man Brenna didn’t recognize entered the room reading from a clipboard. “Victim one was a psychiatrist. She disappeared sometime between last Wednesday night and Thursday morning, when she didn’t show up for work. Missing person number two disappeared sometime Friday night. Her family notified us Saturday morning when she didn’t make a date with her mother.” When he glanced up, he lit the room with a grin and held out his hand to Brenna. “By the way, I’m Agent Paul Fletcher.”

Brenna couldn’t help but smile; it was a natural reaction to the sparkle in the man’s light gray eyes. “Brenna Jensen.”

His eyebrows rose and he squeezed her hand a little tighter. “Ah, the lady with the psycho pen pal.”

With an uneasy laugh, Brenna pulled her hand from Paul’s. “That’s me. Lucky, huh?” She liked Paul instinctively. Unlike his partner, the dark and brooding Nick, he was warm and personable.

“Hang with us.” He winked. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Move over, Romeo.” A woman almost as tall as the other two FBI agents pushed through the doorway behind Paul and held out her hand. “Melissa Bradley, part of this motley crew.”

“Nice to meet you.” Before the words completely left Brenna’s mouth, Melissa had dropped her hand, slid another sheet on top of the clipboard Paul held and walked to the whiteboard. “Victim two was identified as Dr. Deborah Gomez, from across the river. Single female, lives alone. Victim three Michelle Carmichael, also single. Does it ever warm up around here? I think Texas is looking pretty good about now.”

“All single women who live alone?” Brenna mused aloud. “Yeah, Texas does sound great.”

“Two were doctors,” Paul added. “The psychiatrist was Dr. Janine Drummond. But I didn’t think you liked Texas, Mel.”

She snorted. “I’m liking it better than the Arctic here!”

The rest of Paul’s response was lost on Brenna. As the name Janine Drummond sank in, Brenna’s stomach dropped as if she’d hit a major dip in the road. “Did you say Dr. Drummond?”

“Yeah.” Paul’s head came up. “You know her? She was an older woman who had a practice here for over twenty-five years.”

“I know Dr. Drummond. She’s a very nice woman. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt her.” Brenna had been one of her patients. Dr. Drummond had helped her deal with the emotional side of being scarred. But the others didn’t need to know that yet. Maybe never.

The doctor had been someone she could talk to when no one else had understood. Who would do such a thing? Brenna forced the tears back. She couldn’t show emotions with this bunch. Especially Nick Tarver. Emotion was a sign of weakness. She gulped past the lump in her throat and worked at a casual tone. “Dr. Gomez must be new to the area. I don’t recognize the name. Do you know anything else about her?” Brenna asked. “What kind of doctor is she?”

“Professor at the university. She specializes in quantitative physics.” Melissa shrugged. “Paul and I were about to go out and question her staff.”

“Carmichael is into real estate, also lives alone,” Paul said. “We’ll stop by her office as well and see if anyone knows anything.”

“Good. Any sign of forced entry?” Brenna asked.

“No,” Nick said. “Either our perpetrator entered through unlocked windows or the victims opened their doors for him. We did find one of the windows where the snow and ice had been scraped away.”

“Any fingerprints?” Brenna knew from the letter the guy was careful. He wouldn’t risk leaving a sloppy fingerprint.

“Not one.” Paul shook his head. “The places were clean. There was evidence of a struggle around Dr. Gomez’s bed with bloodstains on the carpet. We’ll have it analyzed to verify.”

Brenna tapped a finger to her lips. “Have you pulled names of registered sex offenders in the area?”

“Done.” Nick pulled a list from beneath a tack on the wall and handed it to Brenna. “One pedophile, Timothy Johnston, known for indecent exposure with grade-school kids, and one other, a convicted rapist, Bart Olsen, out on parole for the past month.”

Paul pulled a sheet of paper off the clipboard and handed it to Nick. “Just got a report from Johnston’s parole officer. Said his parolee has been in Tennessee visiting relatives for the past two weeks and they have eyewitnesses that place him in Nashville at the time of the abductions. That puts him out of the picture for now. No one’s seen Olsen, and his parole officer hasn’t heard from him in a week.”

“Not good. When they catch up with him, I want to sit in on that interview,” Brenna said.

Nick frowned. “No.”

Brenna blinked. “No? Not even, ‘let me think about it’ or ‘maybe that’s not a good idea’? Just ‘no’?” She planted her fist on a hip. “I’m investigating this case, too. If I can’t interview potential suspects, I can’t do my job.”

“You can watch from behind the mirror.” Nick’s jaw set firmly. He wasn’t budging. “I don’t want you in range of this guy in case he is the killer.”

“You’re assuming the note writer is the kidnapper and the missing women are dead.”

Nick nodded. “Based on the note, the blood found in the Gomez house and the smear of what looked like blood on that paper, yes.”

“I’ll let you do the interview this time.” Brenna held up her hand when Nick opened his mouth to speak. “But don’t pull this on me again. I’m a trained investigator. I know how to conduct an interview.” Before he could say another word, she spun on the heel of her black leather boots and marched down the hallway.

“If anyone asks, I’ve gone to the Riverton Inn. Otherwise, I’ll be back in an hour,” Brenna said to the officer at the front desk.

“Shouldn’t you clear it with Nick first?” Melissa Bradley leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Since he doesn’t consider me part of the team, I don’t have to inform him of my whereabouts.” Brenna needed to get away and clear her head so she could concentrate on the case. And she had a short social visit to make. Emphasis on short. “If it means anything to you, I’ll clear it with him when I get back.”

BRENNA STOOD IN FRONT of her sister’s spacious two-story home on West Nodak Street. The road was lined with dozens of similar homes—tan, white and gray siding as far as the eye could see, each sidewalk and driveway adrift with the new-fallen snow. The longer she stood, the colder her ears grew with the wind beating against her cap, penetrating the double layer of yarn. Facing the wine-colored door, she had two clear choices: go in and face her family, or stand here and freeze. Funny how freezing seemed the lesser of the two evils.

The wooden door opened and her sister, Alice, peered through the frosted glass of the storm door.

Okay, so now she was down to one choice and it was made for her.

“Brenna? What are you doing standing out in the cold?” Alice pushed the storm door open wider and waved toward her. “Get in here before you freeze.”

“Hi, Alice.” Brenna stepped in on the all-weather mat and immediately removed her boots and outside clothing. “Where’s Mom?”

“Nice to see you, too.” Alice hung her jacket on a peg and then held out her arms. “Don’t I get a hug from my favorite sister?”

Feeling ungracious and unloving, Brenna tried to cook up some enthusiasm for the sister she hadn’t seen in a month. “I’m sorry, of course you get a hug. I’ve missed you,” she said.

“Liar.” But Alice hugged her anyway. “Mom’s in her room. Come on back and say hello.”

Quick to establish expectations up front, Brenna blurted, “I can’t stay long. I’m here on business.”

“I heard on the news.” Alice’s pretty face crumpled into a worried frown. “Isn’t it terrible? Two women missing in just a few days.”

Make that three. When Brenna opened her mouth to respond to her sister’s concern, she was interrupted with a loud, “Alice!”

“That will be Mom. You’d better get back there and say hello.”

“Is she with us today?” Brenna asked.

Alice held her hand out palm down and tipped it back and forth. “In and out.”

“Great. Isn’t there anything they can do for her?”

“We’ve got her on rivastigmine tartrate, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.”

Brenna’s heart ached with the mental loss of the only parent she had left. “I wish we had her back.”

Their mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s two years ago and her progression had been swift and painful to her family. Once an active woman who enjoyed volunteering at the hospital and the Salvation Army thrift shop, Marian Jensen had her driving privileges revoked and was forced to move in with Alice and her husband so they could make sure she didn’t wander out into the cold and die of exposure.

“She shows up on occasion, maybe she’ll be with us today.”

“Let’s hope.” With a deep breath, Brenna pushed her shoulders back and followed her sister down the hallway. “Are you sure you’re okay with this arrangement? We could look into a nursing home.”

“No way. Mom’s only sixty-eight and she gets around just fine. We need to save the money for a nursing home when I can’t help her anymore.”

“I feel bad this is all on your shoulders. Just let me know what I can do to help. Maybe I can watch Mom and the kids one weekend so you and Stan can take a trip or something.”

“That would be great.” Alice smiled. “I don’t know the last time Stan and I had time alone.”

“Of course it’ll be after we solve this case.”

“Oh, I hope it’s soon. It’s so scary knowing there’s a psycho loose in our town. This is Riverton, for God sakes, not Minneapolis or Chicago.”

Alice led the way into a well-lit room with a double bed on one side and a small couch positioned close to the window. Their mother sat on the couch, a colorful afghan draped across her lap and a crocheted shawl around her shoulders.

Brenna bent to press a kiss to her mother’s cheek. “Hi, Mom. It’s me, Brenna.”

Marian Jensen glared up at her. “I know who you are.”

Brenna suppressed a grimace and forced a smile for her mother. “I love you, Mom.”

“That’s more like it.” Her mother patted the couch cushion next to her. “Come sit by me.”

Brenna scrambled for something to say as she settled on the seat next to the woman who was becoming less her mother and more a stranger every day. “How’ve you been, Mom?”

“When are you going to get married, Brenna?” Ever since her mother had started showing signs of Alzheimer’s, she’d fixated on Brenna’s marital status. She’d forgotten so many things about her past, but it seemed she clung to the dream of seeing her daughter married as her last hold on reality.

“I don’t know, Mom.” Brenna squirmed in her seat, never comfortable talking about marriage or relationships.

Her mother patted her knee. “There are a lot of lonely men out there who can love you despite your scars. You’ve just set your standards too high.”

Alice rolled her eyes while Brenna braced for the lecture.

“That’s what’s the matter with you, Brenna. You can’t expect to have the perfect marriage, like your sister. You’re not perfect, God love you, and you know I love you, too. But the truth is, you’re damaged goods. You have to lower your expectations.”

As her mother went on and on, Brenna tuned out. If she didn’t, she’d go crazy. For the past two years, her mother had presented her with the same argument. Settle, Brenna. Don’t waste your life looking for perfection. Alice has it, but you’re not Alice.

As her mother droned on, Brenna’s jaw tightened until she felt as if she’d ground a quarter inch off her back teeth. When her head reached the explosion point, she stood. “I have to go.”

“You just got here.” The nagging woman disappeared leaving a lonely old lady who relied on her family for her care. Her mother, the woman who’d loved her unconditionally until her mind had begun to fade. “Stay awhile with me. You know how much I love having both my little girls with me.” She reached out to clutch her wrist, her grip surprisingly firm for a woman who might weigh all of ninety pounds dripping wet.

“I love you, Mom, but I have to go to work.” She leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”

“They feed me cooked carrots. You know I hate carrots.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mom.” Brenna nodded toward her sister. “Alice, perhaps you and I can go discuss the menu?”

“Of course.” She tucked the crocheted blanket around her mother’s knees. “Mom, I’ll be back in just a minute.”

“Carrots.” The old woman snorted. “Rabbits eat carrots. I want steak and potatoes.”

Brenna stepped out into the hall. Leaning against the wall, she let the stress drain from her pores.

Alice followed, easing the door closed behind her. After the latch clicked gently in place, she reached out and pulled her sister into her arms. “Mom doesn’t know what she’s saying anymore, sweetie. Don’t let her words hurt you.”

“I don’t.” Yeah right. Then why couldn’t she catch her breath or swallow past the lump in her throat? She pressed her eyelids closed. Hell, she was the cop in the family. The one to carry on her father’s legacy. Cops don’t cry.

“Brenna?” Alice gripped her shoulders, forcing her to stare into her eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman and you don’t have to settle for anyone. The right man just hasn’t come along.”

As she stared into her sister’s face, an image of Nick Tarver superimposed over her mind. Nick, standing next to the whiteboard, his black hair a dramatic contrast, those green eyes so intense with dedication to the job at hand. Perfect in every way, except one. He was too perfect. Like her honey-blond-haired sister with flawless skin that showed no sign of wrinkles nor scars to mar the precision of her beauty. Her husband loved her, doted on her and had given her two beautiful little boys and a house in the right neighborhood.

Her mother treated Brenna to endless diatribes on how well Alice had married. Why can’t you be more like your sister? Alice—the all-American cheerleader, top of her class and homecoming queen her senior year.

Too often Brenna had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming, Because I’m not Alice. I don’t have a home, family and husband. And I don’t have a perfect body to attract a man.

Why she let it get to her, Brenna didn’t know. The trip from Bismarck had taken its toll. Exhausted and in need of a shower, she stepped away from her sister.

“Alice, it’s good to see you. Since I’m on assignment, I don’t know when I’ll get by to visit Stan and the boys. Will you say hi for me?”

“Sure.” Alice laid a hand on her arm. “You will be careful, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Brenna lifted her sister’s hand. “And the same goes for you. Make sure you lock your house and don’t let anyone in. So far, the kidnapper is targeting single women. But we don’t know if he’ll go after married ones as well.”

“I heard Dr. Drummond was one of the missing persons. I’m so sorry. I know you used to see her.” Alice’s forehead creased in a frown. “Do you think he’s killing them?”

Brenna inhaled and let the air out slowly. “We don’t have proof and we may not find them until spring, but my gut tells me it’s not good.”

Alice’s face blanched. “Wow. Here in Riverton? A killer in our midst.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Makes me want to go pick up my kids from school and keep them inside.”

“You do that. And lock your windows. If you have a security system, make sure it’s on.”

“Seems strange taking orders from my baby sister. But you were always the strong one.” Alice squeezed her hand. “Just like Dad. Mom and I leaned heavily on you when he died. Must have been hard for you. You and Dad were so close.”

“I didn’t mind.” Liar. She’d missed her father so much after his death, but she couldn’t fall apart. Her mother and sister needed her to be strong. So she was. “Besides, I have to keep it together. The kidnapper sent me a note after the first woman disappeared.”

“No!” Alice’s eyes widened and her face paled. “He could be after you next. Do you think it’s someone you know? Oh, Brenna, you’re a single woman. Are you safe walking around on the streets? You should come stay with Stan and me. Speak of the devil…” Alice directed a smile over Brenna’s shoulder. “There’s Stan now.”

As Stanley Klaus stepped through the front door, Brenna turned to face him, a friendly smile of greeting pasted on her face. The man was every bit as tall as Nick, but not quite as broad in the shoulders. His sandy-blond hair was pleasantly ruffled by the wind. Brenna understood what Alice had seen in Stan. He was a good-looking man.

The right side of his mouth quirked up in a half smile. “Brenna, good to see you.” He reached out and engulfed her in a hug. “What’s it been—a month since you were here last?”

Brenna endured the embrace for her sister. No matter how hard she tried, she never felt as though Stan was family and she didn’t like being hugged by anyone but family and very close friends. Somehow, Stan didn’t fit into either category.

“I’d stay and catch up, but I just stopped for a bill I left on my computer.” Stan left the women standing in the hallway, an awkward silence stretching between them until he walked back through the house with a paper in his hand. “Got it! I might be late for dinner.” With that parting comment, he sailed through the door and was gone.

Alice’s gaze followed him until his car left the driveway, a small frown crinkling the middle of her forehead. “Nice to see you, too, dear,” she said softly. When she finally faced Brenna, her lips twisted into a wistful smile. “That’s the life of an old married woman.”

“You’re not old.” Brenna wrapped her arms around her sister and hugged her briefly before stepping away. “I know this is crazy but I always get the feeling he’s never forgiven me for trying to talk you out of marrying him.”

Her sister snorted. “At my wedding! You have to admit that was pretty poor timing on your part.”

“I’m sorry. I had no right.”

“Yes, you did.” Alice smiled, only her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You did what any sister would do. You tried to give me one last chance to change my mind. But it’s been seven years, I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it.”

Brenna shrugged into her coat. “Well, you know where I’ll be and I’ll have my cell phone if you need to contact me.”

“You sure you won’t stay with us? We’d love to have you.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be in and out at odd hours and I only need a place to shower and sleep.”

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and gave Brenna her best big-sister scowl. “Let me guess, you’ll be at the police station the rest of the time.”

“Or out searching for clues.”

“And you couldn’t have crummier weather.”

“Tell me about it.” Brenna hated the last part of winter. After six months of snow, she and everyone else in North Dakota were ready for green grass and sunshine.

Alice sighed. “At least at the police station you’re surrounded by other cops. And they say warmer weather is at the back end of this storm.”

“I hope so. Look, I have to go.” Brenna straightened her shoulders. “Remember, be careful. If this guy is really after me, you could be in danger just by your association with me. You might consider going to stay in the Cities.” Five hours away, the twin cities of Minneapolis and St. Paul teamed with traffic and their own share of crime. Yet they suddenly seemed like a safe haven compared to the small town of Riverton, North Dakota.

If Brenna did her job right, Riverton would be back on track for one of the best places to raise a family. Then she’d get her promotion and move to Minnesota and even farther away from her hometown and family.

If she didn’t get killed in the meantime.

Chapter Three

Checked in at the hotel, Brenna stripped down to skin and padded to the bathroom to brush the road grime from her teeth. As she stood in front of the mirror, her mother’s words returned to bounce around her thoughts.

Settle for a man who’ll accept her and all her scars.

She stood back and assessed herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Besides the toothbrush in her mouth, she looked pretty normal. A little on the short side, but just like anyone else. Until she turned around.

Pivoting, she glanced over her shoulder at the wide swath of scarred skin from her right shoulder down to the bottom of her right thigh. Laced across the smooth, leathery scar tissue was a mottled pattern of splotchy pink, purple and blue lines. Burned in a freak barn fire as a small child, she accepted the scars as a part of her. But children were cruel and many had poked fun at her, calling her alligator skin and burned cookie when she’d gone outside in shorts or a swimsuit. Not that she’d let them stop her. With her father’s love and encouragement, she’d grown up confident and as normal as she could. Yet when it came to adult situations in the bedroom, the lights were definitely off.

The one time she’d opened herself enough to let a man into her bed—that sleazebag Victor Greeley—he’d forgotten to tell her one important fact. The jerk was married. While she’d been hiding her scars in the dark, Victor had been hiding uglier sins.

She should have known better than to date a traveling salesman. What kind of cop was she that she fell into the age-old trap of being the other, unsuspecting woman?

After she’d learned his secret, avoiding him was easy…until he’d moved his wife to town and bought a house on a street just around the corner from Alice.

Brenna’s embarrassment at her stupidity, coupled with the guilt she felt for nearly ruining another woman’s marriage, was sufficient motivation to leave town and the police force she’d cut her teeth on. Living in Bismarck, she didn’t have to pass by Victor’s house, nor did she bump into his sweet but clueless wife, Ginnie, at the grocery store.

Brenna tapped the water out of her toothbrush and ran her tongue across her clean teeth. With the weather so bitterly cold she couldn’t go out to jog, she decided on a swim in the hotel pool and slipped into a one-piece black swimsuit. Grabbing a beach towel long enough to cover all her scars, she wrapped it around her middle, tucking the edge in at the top. A dozen laps ought to work out the kinks in her neck and shoulders and help her think through the problem of one maniac on the loose. Her mind worked better when she generated exercise-induced endorphins.

The drive from Bismarck had been stressful enough without arriving to find the case had been turned over to the FBI. Especially since the man in charge was entirely too egocentric, gruff and good-looking for an FBI agent. Where’d they come up with these guys? She thought agents were chosen for their ability to blend in with a crowd. Not Nick. She could spot him in the Mall of America, much less a small town like Riverton.