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  “He was in recovery for about an hour,” Shari added, “and then they brought him here to the ICU. They haven’t let me see him.”

  “Do you know anything about what happened to him?”

  “No one has shared anything with me. The officer who called me said they thought he’d been badly beaten and he has a severe concussion. I’m waiting for the doctor to give us an update on his condition. They said a neurologist would be monitoring him now that he’s had the surgery.” She grabbed Kendall’s hand. “I’m so frightened. I know you must be too, Kendall. I’m really glad you’re here.”

  Kendall had a lump in her throat that felt the size of a dinner roll. It seemed odd, but having another woman here who loved him too, suddenly felt reassuring again.

  TJ arrived with a tray of coffees and passed them out after Kendall made the introductions. Kendall, still in her work clothes, noticed she was the only one not wearing jeans and a sweater. The somber, charcoal-gray suit she wore, however, seemed fitting for the occasion.

  They had just sat down with their coffee when a woman wearing a white lab coat came over to them and asked for Mrs. Nashlund.

  “I’m Shari Nashlund. Are you Adam’s doctor?”

  “Yes, I’m Dr. Moore, the neurologist.” Her dark eyes took in the three women. “Mrs. Nashlund, why don’t we go somewhere to talk?”

  “Please, can we just talk here?” She turned to Kendall. “I’m actually about to be Mr. Nashlund’s ex-wife. This is Kendall Halsrud. She and Adam are very close, and she needs to be here. And this is her friend, TJ.”

  The doctor took a chair across from Shari and Kendall. TJ offered her a cup of coffee. “Haven’t touched it yet,” she explained.

  Dr. Moore accepted the coffee. “Thanks. It’s been a long day,” she said and took a sip. “Has Dr. Niroomad been to see you yet?” When Shari said the doctor hadn’t, Moore nodded. “We’ve been very busy today; the weather has caused a few bad accidents in town. Dr. Niroomad is an orthopedic surgeon, and he’ll tell you more about Mr. Nash’s injuries.

  “When they brought Mr. Nashlund in this morning, he was unconscious. He still is. Whether this will be temporary or not is hard to say right now. His injuries are severe. He has serious bruising and broken bones. He had a concussion that went untreated. We’re observing him closely now and still have tests to run before we’ll know the whole picture.”

  “Is he in a coma?” Shari asked.

  “He hasn’t regained consciousness since the surgery, which was completed about two hours ago. I think it’s too soon to categorize his condition as comatose, especially since we aren’t sure how much time passed between his injuries and his being brought to this hospital. The promising thing is that his brain activity is normal, so there is no reason to think he won’t regain consciousness. Although it may be days or even weeks before that happens.”

  Kendall asked, “Can I see him?”

  “I’m afraid it will be a while before he can have visitors. There are tests to be run and the orthopedic specialist needs to evaluate his injuries. The splenectomy had to be performed first.”

  “Is it possible to have him transported to Eau Claire?” Shari asked.

  “It is, but not right away. Not until he’s stabilized enough to make the trip without risk.”

  “How critical is he, really?” Kendall asked.

  “It is hard to say yet, but it is very possible he’ll make a full recovery. We will have to wait and see how well he does in the next few days. I know you’ve come a long way, but I’d advise all of you to go back home. We’ll call if there is any change in his condition.”

  Shari and Kendall exchanged anxious glances.

  “Tell you what,” Dr. Moore said, “I’ll see if he’s still here in ICU and try to arrange for you to see him briefly.”

  After a few minutes, a nurse came in and said one of them could go in. Shari looked over at Kendall. “You go first.”

  Kendall’s heart nearly stopped when she entered the room. The only part of Nash that was recognizable was his hair, dark and unruly against the white bandage covering part of his head. Machines surrounded the bed. The sounds and the odors in the room brought her back to the time she lay in a room just like this one, recovering from a bullet wound. She’d survived her injury, and Nash would survive this; he was a strong man. She stood next to him and softly ran a finger along his arm. There was barely any exposed skin that wasn’t bruised.

  Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m here, Nash. I wish I could find whoever did this to you. Someone will. They’ll make him pay.” She bent over and kissed the tiny patch of his forehead that wasn’t bandaged. “I love you.”

  38

  Kendall spent what was left of the night in Milwaukee in TJ’s guest room, and then drove home after getting a fitful three hours’ sleep. She called Ross on her way in and had him meet her at a coffee shop near the station around noon.

  “Did you tell them?” she asked, when she was sitting across from him.

  “Yeah, I told everybody about Nash. It really sucks, Kenny. He’s a good cop. I bet he’s the one who saved everyone else’s ass.”

  Kendall didn’t doubt it. Nash wasn’t a cop who was on the job for the glory. “Thanks. I wasn’t up to talking about it with everyone. I did call my father finally and told him what happened. He wanted to go to Milwaukee and then to Chicago and confront the other guys on Nash’s team.” She laughed wryly, and changed the subject. “What’s happened since I’ve been gone?”

  “You’ve been gone one morning.”

  At her dark look he said, “Nothing much from forensics yet. We won’t have the DNA from the panties we found at Holmes’ place for weeks, but Paula visited Karla’s mother and her roommate to ask about them, see if either of them remembered her having a pair.”

  “And did they?”

  “No, but then yours truly talked to her boyfriend, who did remember them. Said they were either hers or a pair just like them.”

  “How about the DNA Teed found under her fingernails?”

  “That’s finished, and we know it isn’t Karla’s or Kolterjohns’s, but we’ll have to wait for Holmes’ DNA to be run to find out if we have a match.”

  “Maybe we could get it from the Navy in his service records if they take DNA on everyone” Kendall suggested.

  “Yeah, they do. I had to look it up for another case a while back. Anybody who enlists in any branch of the military gets processed by a processing system called MEPS that includes a DNA sample. But you know how that goes; takes a fucking act of Congress for them to cough anything up.”

  “Doesn’t hurt to try. Give it to Paula, she used to be in the service. Maybe if someone who speaks their language asks it could help. Anything else I need to know?” Kendall asked.

  “The semen we found on Karla, unfortunately, matched Kolterjohn, but we expected that. I talked to Courtney. She’s working on that book about the Fiancé Murders and wanted to know if we have anything on Holmes to connect him with them.”

  “I wish we did.”

  “She moved into the Batty’s house until they come home. Says her friend Trent asked them if it would be okay and they said it would be good to have someone there all the time.”

  “What about her parents, are they all right with that?”

  “They are. She said she thinks it’s because they wouldn’t want to have to change their own diet.”

  “I have to give her credit; if I were in her shoes I don’t think I’d want to stay there alone after what happened. Has she remembered anything useful about Holmes?”

  Ross said, “No, but she offered to do anything she could to help us.”

  “Just what we need, civilian help.”

  “How about Whitey? She turn up anything?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to talk to Brynn. Dad invited us over to dinner tonight. I’ll talk to her then.”

  “I have a list of people we should question about Holmes. Maybe one of them will have something for us.”


  “Good. I need to keep busy.”

  “Is Shari still at the hospital?”

  “I think she came back this morning.”

  Ross hesitated. “How are things with you guys?”

  “Shari and me?” Kendall shrugged. “To be honest, I was glad she was there last night. The situation sucks for me, but it’s not her fault. Nash is still unconscious, which, considering his injuries, may be a blessing. He’s still critical, but supposedly he’s past the most dangerous period.”

  “Can’t Shari have him transferred here?”

  “They can’t move him until he’s stable. He has broken bones, too, and the orthopedic doctors are still working on him.”

  “I’d like to find the dirt bags who did it and show them what I do to people who hurt my friends.”

  “Get in line,” Kendall replied.

  Their first stop was a trailer park located east of Eau Claire and north of Chippewa Falls, with well-maintained residences on neat, individual plots. They stopped in front of a long doublewide.

  The woman who answered was about seventy, and wore a pair of indigo stretch jeans with a pale-blue cardigan over a neat white blouse. “Yes?”

  “Are you Mrs. Holmes?” Ross asked.

  Kendall didn’t think this gray-haired woman could be Holmes’ mother. Grandmother, maybe, but this was the address they had for his mother.

  When she said she was Mrs. Holmes, Ross told her who they were, then asked, “Are you Daniel Holmes mother?”

  She smiled. “No, I’m his grandmother.” Her face dropped. “Is something wrong? Is Danny hurt?” She opened the door and they followed her inside.

  Alverson asked, “Can you tell us where his parents are?”

  “My son Bobby, Danny’s father, was killed in the war in Iraq. His mother’s gone, and I don’t know where she is, or care. She took off when he was a small boy. What’s this about, officer?”

  Her face crumpled into grief when they told her that her grandson was dead.

  A single tear ran down her face. “I felt so sorry for the boy. We raised him the best we could, but he missed his mother so badly after she left. The poor boy never even knew his father.” She pulled a rumpled tissue from her pocket.

  “How well did you know your grandson, Mrs. Holmes?” Kendall asked.

  “To tell the truth, detective, not very well. Even as a boy, Danny kept to himself so much and was so quiet that we never knew what he was thinking. He was just one of those people who lived inside themselves, you know?”

  Kendall knew. Many of them turned out to be gifted computer experts, artists, or scientists, while others became school shooters, mass murderers, and serial killers. “How about recently, have you seen him much this past year?”

  “He’s a bright boy, you know. He should have gone on to college. He always had his nose in the books, studied everything under the sun, even when he was a toddler. He went into the Navy after high school, planned on having a career in it. I always thought that was a big mistake—and it was. He became unhappy with his choice in his first year and left the service as soon as he could.”

  “How long has he been out?”

  “It’s been a few years. He was stationed in Great Lakes, Illinois, and after he got out he lived there until he moved here about two years ago.”

  “Do you know if he had a job while he lived there?” They hadn’t found a work record for Holmes and were waiting to get his computer history to see if he had some cyber-means of supporting himself.

  “He just said he worked with computers. Why? Does that have something to do with why he was killed?”

  Instead of answering, Kendall asked, “When he was a boy, did he get in trouble often?” Holmes had no record, but that only proved he’d never been convicted of anything; it didn’t mean he’d never been arrested.

  “No. Like I told you, he mostly kept to himself. He loved books and spent his free time in the library. He didn’t participate in a lot of activities and sports like the other boys his age even when we encouraged him.”

  Kendall and Ross exchanged a glance. Ross began, “Mrs. Holmes, we are very sorry to have to tell you this about your grandson—” He explained what they believed Holmes was involved in at the time of his death.

  She took the news with no further tears, choking up only when they told her about finding Karla’s body in a trash bin.

  Kendall said, “I know this is a lot to absorb. Can we call someone for you? You shouldn’t be alone today.”

  “No. That’s all right. My good friend Lorraine lives right next door. She was going to come over this morning anyway. I’ll call her.”

  “Have you seen Daniel often since he came back?”

  “He comes here for supper maybe twice a month, eats and leaves. I haven’t even seen his apartment, although I did drive by once just to see where it was.”

  “He never said anything to you about how he supported himself?”

  “When he moved back here, he said he had money saved and was going to take some time off, get into school with his GI assistance. I was thrilled about that. But I don’t know if he ever started classes; he never said even when I asked.”

  They stood to leave. Kendall said, “We’ll let you know when Daniel’s body will be released so you can make arrangements. We will have to talk to you again soon. In the meantime, anything you can remember about him that might be helpful, let us know.”

  As they drove away, Kendall said, “I’m not sure how we’ll find out any more about him. Everyone else on our list is either a distant relative or people who knew of him, not anyone who was really close to the guy.”

  “We’ll know a lot more when someone goes through his computer. He hasn’t filed any income tax forms since he left the service and his bank account is rather healthy—don’t think it’s possible to save that much in the Navy.”

  “If he had money, why did he live the way he did?” Kendall asked, remembering Holmes’ small apartment.

  “He didn’t want to call attention to himself?” Ross suggested.

  “I don’t know. He could maintain an awful lot of privacy and still live in or even own a nice place. My bet is that he didn’t want to call attention to his source of income. He’s not paying taxes, but has an income—it has to be something illegal.”

  After a few more stops, they had no new information to add to their file on Holmes. As they headed back to the station, Kendall’s phone rang. It was Shari Nashlund.

  “Kendall, I just got a call from Dr. Moore, the neurologist. Nash is showing signs of regaining consciousness. I wanted to go back, but she told me we shouldn’t come. She said when he does come to she wants to evaluate his condition first. She’ll let us know when he can have visitors. I talked to his orthopedic doctor too, and he said they would be working on his broken bones tomorrow. He has broken ribs, a broken leg, and two broken bones in his left arm. He actually gave me a lot more detail, but not in layman’s terms so I can’t tell you any more than I have.”

  “Have they taken him off the critical list?”

  “I didn’t ask. But they said barring anything unexpected, he should be okay, but he’s going to have a lot of pain and need physical therapy for a long time.

  “It seems strange that Dr. Moore doesn’t want us there. I would think Nash would do much better knowing his loved ones were with him.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Shari said. “I’m worried that his neurologist thinks he could have brain damage from the concussion. I suppose, she’d rather find that out, run tests to see if the damage is permanent, before she has to break the bad news to us.”

  “You’re probably right,” Kendall said. “I still think one of us should be there, don’t you?”

  Kendall heard Shari exhale into the phone. “I was hoping you would say that. I’ll just pack a few things and then I can drive back to Kenosha. But we should both go if you can get off work. Should I pick you up?”

  “Thanks, but I can’t leave yet. I need
to talk to my boss and make arrangements for some time off. I’ll drive down tomorrow. Call me when you get there.”

  Kendall closed the phone and told Ross about Nash.

  “You should go with her,” he said. “Or I can go if you want.”

  “No, I have some things to do before I can leave. Shari will keep an eye on the situation and keep us updated. I’ll drive down in the morning.”

  “You okay with that?”

  “Sure. It’s not like she wants to get him back or stop the divorce from going though.”

  Ross cleared his throat. Kendall’s pulse quickened. Did he know something? “What’s on your mind?”

  “I wouldn’t be too positive about that—you know, about Shari. I heard she wasn’t as sure as Nash was that it was time to give up on their marriage.”

  Kendall’s stomach lurched. If Shari was at Nash’s side when he woke up, she would be in a prime position to worm her way back into his life if that was what she wanted.

  “That might be true, Ross, but if a crisis like this would drive Nash back to Shari, then what we have isn’t solid enough to last very long. If those two getting back together is inevitable, better it happens now than later,” she said, not feeling nearly as confident as her words.

  39

  The roadhouse, hot, stuffy, and loud, was a popular spot with both the college set and the working stiffs. Rachel Geror kept her fingers clasped tightly around her glass; she’d been warned that this was not a good place for a girl to lose sight of her drink.

  Coming here had been Mickey’s idea. He was over twenty-one and didn’t have to feel nervous about showing a fake ID like Rachel did. She nearly dropped her drink on the floor when a loser with a real drunk going on asked her to dance. Where was Mickey? He told her he was going to the men’s room, but twenty minutes had passed since he left.

  The loser leaned in closer. “If you’re looking for your boyfriend, honey, he beat you to the dance floor.”

  As Rachel turned away from the disgusting, stale beer fumes that emanated from his mouth, her gaze leapt to the dance floor. Mickey was in the middle of the floor pressed against a tall blonde, and moving slowly to the music with his hands spread over her generous butt. Rachel’s discomfort flared into fury. She and Mickey had been dating for five weeks now and spent every weekend together, although exclusivity hadn’t been discussed. But this? Putting on a display right in front of her?