“You know how I said last night this could be personal? That maybe it wasn’t just about money?”
“Yeah.”
“Well I’m right. If you just want money, you don’t kidnap the chief of police’s daughter in his city.”
“The chief has money, Mac,” Lich answered. “His wife’s family. The money from the logging up north. They’ve got millions.”
“Sure, we’ll get a ransom demand,” Mac said, shaking his head, waving Lich off. “But there’s more in play here — a lot more.”
A uniform came running up.
“Mac. They got an explosion over near Lake Street behind an old abandoned building. Black Chevy Express Cargo van.”
8
Smith backed the van into the garage and punched the button that closed the garage door. Carrie Flanagan lay still, finally done with her frantic squirming. A pillowcase covered her head and duct tape covered her mouth. Smith opened the sliding door to find Dean, David, and Monica pulling their ski masks back on. He pulled his own back on, then knelt down to Carrie and slid the cover off her head. He spoke softly.
“Carrie, we don’t want to hurt you,” he said, his hand placed lightly on her stomach. “We’re not going to hurt you. We’re not going to rape you. That was not why we’ve gone to all this trouble, okay? I want you to nod your head that you understand.”
Flanagan nodded. Smith continued.
“I know you’re afraid, but I want you to understand that we’re after money. You’re simply a means to an end. Once we get what we want, we’ll let you go. Okay?”
Flanagan nodded.
“Good, Carrie. If you play ball, things will go better.”
She nodded her head one more time. Smith smiled through his black mask.
“We’re going to move you inside the house now. You can’t break free, so it will be better for you to just be still and let us carry you, all right?”
She nodded again.
The brothers lifted her out of the van, Dean carrying her under the arms and David by the feet. Flanagan was relatively light in their arms, although a little heavier than the petite Hisle. Smith opened the door to the basement bedroom and Shannon Hisle turned her head to see them coming in.
“Carrie, like I said, we have no desire to hurt you,” Smith repeated. “Over on the other bed is Shannon Hisle. Do you know who she is?”
Flanagan nodded.
“She has her arms and legs cuffed to the bed, but she hasn’t been harmed in any way.” Smith looked over to Hisle. “Shannon, you haven’t been harmed, have you?”
Hisle shook her head.
Flanagan nodded, but she still had a frantic look in her eyes. Smith wanted her calm.
“We’re going to do the same with you. It will be easier if you just let us do it, okay? We’re not going to harm you, all right?”
Carrie nodded again, but the eyes were still wide.
The two brothers laid her on the bed. David got on top, sitting on her waist and holding her down while Dean cut away her restraints. He cuffed her arms and then her legs to the bed. Once she was secure, David eased off and moved back while Smith sat on the edge of the bed.
“Carrie, I’m going to remove the tape, okay?”
She nodded.
“Don’t scream.”
She nodded again.
“Because if you do scream, I will have to hurt you.”
Carrie looked over toward Shannon, who nodded back. Carrie looked up at the masked man and nodded her head.
“Okay, this will hurt a little,” Smith said as he yanked the tape from her mouth. Flanagan gasped for air, breathing deeply, trying to speak.
“Why…” She gasped. “Why… why are you doing…”
Smith laid his fingers lightly over her mouth.
“Why? Like I said upstairs, we’re after money. Your fathers have a lot of money and we want it. That’s all,” he said, his voice almost monotone and totally conversational. “This isn’t about you; this isn’t about harming you. That’s not what I want to do. It’s not what I intend to do.”
“Okay,” Flanagan answered weakly.
“Alright then,” Smith said and then looked over to Hisle, who was gagged. “Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
Hisle nodded.
Smith looked back to Monica, “Let’s get her to the potty. Then get her something to eat and drink.”
Monica, ski mask over her face, simply nodded while Dean and David undid the manacles for her arms and legs from the bed. Hisle then laid still while David put a different set of manacles on her feet that allowed her to shuffle out of the room.
Once Hisle was out of the room and the door was closed, Smith turned back to Flanagan.
“Now see. We have no desire to harm you. After we finish what is next, we’ll get you to the potty if you need it and some food and water as well.”
Flanagan, while still scared, had calmed down.
“Do you know who my father is?” Carrie asked.
Smith smiled through the mouth hole in his ski mask.
“You mean the revered Charlie Flanagan, chief o’ police for the city of St. Paul? Oh, we’re quite familiar with who your father is.” Smith smiled through his mask. “And we are not the least bit concerned about it.” He paused and patted her on the thigh. “Now Carrie, if you play ball with us and your daddy follows directions…” He leaned back and clasped his hands across his stomach. “Well, everything will all work out.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, if you do as we ask, your chances of making it out of this are a lot better. If you don’t help us out, well… it certainly could go much worse.” Smith paused. “Now that’s not what I want, so let’s play ball, okay?”
“Do you really think my father will pay you?” Carrie asked in disbelief. “He’ll hunt you down with everything he’s got.”
“Oh, I expect he will,” Smith replied calmly, unconcerned. “But in the end, your father will pay us.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his little girl. That’s all the motivation he’ll need.”
“It’s like Groundhog Day,” Mac quipped.
The scene was eerily similar to the one from the day before in River Falls. The burned-out van had been found behind a vacant building on Lake Street. The entire area was essentially deserted, the alley lined with abandoned houses and the storefronts empty, except for a small printing company a block to the west. Signs on the front of the vacant and now burned-out building announced a future home for street level retail, with condominiums overtop. It was all part of Minneapolis’s efforts to rehab the Lake Street area.
For the past twenty or thirty years the area had been one of crime and drug dealing, with seedy bars interspersed between hit-and-miss storefront businesses. In the 1950s and 1960s, it had been a thriving business area surrounded by large Victorian and Tudor homes. Minneapolis was in the process of revitalizing the Lake Street strip, rehabilitating historical buildings and sweeping away dilapidated ones. Soon, those efforts would overtake the vacant and crumbling building Mac and Lich were now standing behind.
As on the day before, the van had been parked and then incinerated after the kidnappers left the scene. However, in an area with an already high crime rate, the van was immediately recognized as a crime scene. The Minneapolis cops established a wide perimeter. The FBI and Minneapolis and St. Paul crime techs were working the scene, walking around carefully, photographing, marking, bagging, and collecting anything they could. Another helicopter was flying overhead.
Mac and Lich walked up to the scene and found a diminutive Minneapolis uniform cop that Mac knew named Norman.
“Hey Mac,” Norman said.
“Norms, what do you know?”
“Not much really,” the Minneapolis cop replied. He pointed toward Lake Street. “Old guy was walking along Lake Street and saw the smoke rising behind this building. He came around back and saw the burning van, walked a block or two to the gas station and called it in.”
“Anyone see anything?”