“What smile,” Lich asked. “I didn’t see a smile.”
“I did, right when Wiskowski said, ‘go fuck yourself.’ Everyone in the room was trying to push the chief out, so they wouldn’t have seen it. But I saw it.”
“You think that means he has the girls?”
“I’m starting to think maybe he does. That or he’s just enjoying pulling everyone’s chain,” Mac said. He opened the door and jumped into the hallway to tell Burton.
“It might be worth a shot,” he finished.
“It might at that,” Burton answered, “And we’re not getting anywhere. But let’s let things cool just a bit for a few minutes, then we’ll go back in.”
“That’s good. I need to grab something first anyway.” Mac said. He went to his cluttered desk and grabbed an oversized maroon coffee mug with a large, gold “M” on it — symbol of the University of Minnesota — from atop a Parade of Homes magazine. Mac had an affinity for looking at houses and real estate, even with the housing market in the tank. He picked it up and looked at the cover, which featured four high-end houses, one of them a Wiskowski-designed home. Mac put down the magazine and went back down to the interview room. He found Burton talking to Riley and Rock, explaining that McRyan was going to take a run at Wiskowski.
“Where’s the chief?” Mac said.
“Up in his office with Hisle and six uniforms to make sure neither of them moves.”
“What’s with the coffee cup?” Burton asked, point to Mac’s hand.
“Wiskowski has donated a lot of money to the football program at the U over the years. He has a soft spot for the program.”
“Gonna try to create some common ground, are we?”
“The direct approach hasn’t worked.”
“Going softer?”
“A little indirect perhaps. One other thing. If he’s got the girls, he has to be holding them somewhere, right?”
“Yeah, we’re looking at his home, businesses, and other placed right now.”
“Have your guys take a look at recent real estate purchases as well,” Mac said. “Something out of the ordinary, something that doesn’t fit with what the company normally does.
“Like what?”
“I don’t’ know. Just something that doesn’t seem right for his business dealings. He builds luxury homes. Is there a purchase somewhere that doesn’t fit?”
Burton promptly sent one of his team members off on a computer search.
“Anyone else from Wiskowski’s world unaccounted for?” Riley asked.
“We can’t find his kid Steve yet,” Duffy answered. “We think he might be shacked up somewhere. He’s apparently a pussy hound.”
“Steven Smith Wiskowski. Lots of money and a fast life,” Lich added, flipping through a file on the kid. Steve had his own run-ins with the law in the past over drugs, minor pot possession mostly. “He’s not much of a winner either. Word is he went after the reporter who did the TV story on Drew Jr.’s death. Apparently he thought it was exploitive.”
“Kind of like Drew Jr. on those Hmong folks,” Rock replied. “A whole family of assholes, as far as I’m concerned.”
“What’s the story on the driver of the car we saw in Ellsworth?” Mac asked, getting back on track.
“Worker named Frank McDonald is the driver. He’s down the hall in an interview room,” Burton said. “McDonald claims he left a construction site in Menomonie at approximately 7:00 PM. Wiskowski is building homes at a development there.” Menomonie was a Wisconsin town, forty-five minutes east of St. Paul off Interstate 94.” He says he closed up one of their models at 7:10 or so and drove back. Says he pulled into Wiskowski Construction over two hours later, at around 9:30 or so.”
“So what time was the call from Ellsworth?” Mac asked.
“7:42,” Burton answered.
“So he leaves the construction site and makes the call on the way home, right?” McRyan followed.
“Yup,” Lich replied, looking at the notes. “Plenty of time to get it done.”
“One other thing,” Burton added. “McDonald has a record.”
“Really,” Mac’s eyebrows shot up.
“He did time for extortion five years ago down in Chicago, so working with Wiskowski on a kidnapping is not beyond the realm of possibility.”
“Or Wiskowski hired him into a good gig when nobody else would, and now his boss calls his marker due,” Mac added. “Either way, he looks good for the call.”
“He does,” Duffy answered. “My guys worked him over. He denies making the call, but he says the timeline is two and a half hours to get home.”
“So what’s he doing along the way?”
“Said he stopped in Ellsworth.”
“Really?” Lich said, surprised.
“And did what?” Mac asked.
“He’s got a little woman down there,” Duffy answered with a wry smile. “Apparently everyone in Wiskowski’s world is a hound. Anyway, she’s married, so he goes through town on the way home while the husband’s out playing softball and running around with the boys. The husband gets home by midnight on game night, so McDonald goes down, gets a little and gets outta Dodge before daddy comes home.”
“And it’s a perfect little cover to make the call,” Burton added.
“Are we checking his story?”
“We are,” Duffy answered. “The Ellsworth cops checked it out. She admits to the affair and that he was there tonight. She says he arrived just before eight, stayed about an hour, finished the job, and left.”
“So he makes the call, goes to her house to cover the trip, and then comes home as if nothing happened,” Lich said.
“This is looking better by the minute,” Mac added as he opened the door into the interview room.
“So what now, I get the junior varsity,” Wiskowski said with a smirk as Mac walked into the room and sat down. The old man noticed the cup and looked Mac over again. “You’re McRyan aren’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“Nice coffee cup. Hockey player at the U right?”
“Back in the day.”
“You played for one of the national title winners.”
“I did.”
“I prefer football myself. I’ve donated a lot of money for the new football stadium,” Wiskowski said.
“And to your church, don’t forget. I know you’ve been very generous with your church in Cottage Grove,” Mac wanted to soften him up.
“I’ve given some money, yes.”
“More than some, Mr. Wiskowski. The new church exists because of your donation.”
Wiskowski nodded.
“I for one am pleased folks like you have stepped up to help fund the new stadium,” Mac continued quietly. “I look forward to going to an outdoor football game on campus.”
“I will not live to see it open.”
“But your generosity will live on.”
Wiskowski nodded but then spoke again.
“Of course, the way my name is being dragged through the mud today, the U might not be so inclined to have my name remain.”
“So why, given those good works, would you take Carrie and Shannon?” Mac was humanizing the girls, not mentioning their last names. “What possible good does that accomplish? All your hard work, all your generosity, all the work to build up your good name and then you do this?” Mac shook his head. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”
2:54 AM
Mac spoke quietly, going on an hour now with Wiskowski, trying to wear the man down.
“Drew, we’ve talked a long time now. You have motive, you have the means, and we have your man making a phone call. We have those things locked down.” McDonald wasn’t admitting to making the call but Wiskowski didn’t know that.
“And I’ve told you that I had…” Wiskowski coughed uncontrollably, doubling over until the coughing fit stopped, and he leaned back in his chair, exhausted. “I’ve told you for hours now, I have nothing to do with nothing.”
“We’ll find the girls sooner or later,” Mac said, taking another sip of coffee, his cup having been refilled twice now. He’d kept Wiskowski talking for over an hour, walking through what happened to his son, the case, his anger at the chief and Hisle, and at the same time playing to his vanity about his legacy. “We’ll find the girls. The thing is, it would be better for you if you told us where they are now.”