“And I’ll take you other two downstairs,” Lich added.
Now that the house was clear, Mac took his time walking and looking around. His first stop was the living room to his left, which was devoid of furniture, its beige shag carpet the only contrast against the stark white walls. The only thing worthy of notice was the fresh vacuum tracks in the carpet. Leaving the living room, Mac walked down a hallway to the two bedrooms and full bath. The larger of the two bedrooms contained only a queen-size mattress and box spring, but no bed frame or headboard. There were no sheets on the bed. The closet was empty, not even a solitary hanger on the rod. Again, there were fresh vacuum tracks throughout the room.
Across the hall, the other bedroom was tiny, maybe ten by ten, also empty and freshly vacuumed.
“Empty?” a tech asked, walking up behind Mac.
“Yeah, nothing. Freshly vacuumed is about all that I see of note.”
“Being careful?”
“If they were using this house, yes. They have been careful every step of the way,” Mac replied with a sigh. “But it’s a long way from vacuum tracks to saying they were here. It could be that a cleaning company has been in and out for all we know. That might explain the vacuum tracks.”
“I’ll process the room and maybe we’ll find out,” the tech said.
Mac stepped out of the bedroom and checked on the other tech working the bathroom, which was a narrow deal with a tub and shower on the left and the vanity and toilet on the right. “You got anything?”
“No,” was the terse reply. “I think someone was in here recently, if only because the smell of disinfectant is so strong. This room has been cleaned to within an inch of its life, and today I’d say.” The tech pointed to the vanity. “There’s just the slightest film around the drain of the sink. I’d guess it was cleaner. I took a sample.”
“How about the shower? Maybe the drain?” Mac asked, stepping past the tech and pulling back an orange shower curtain. It clashed badly with the pink tile of the shower and vanity top. “All we need is one hair, and we’d have something to go on.”
The tech shook her head. “I hear you, Detective, but the shower is spotless. There’s nothing in the drain. I checked already. I half wonder if it was even used.”
Mac stepped out of the bathroom and moved back into the kitchen, checking the cabinets and under the sink. All he found was peeling shelf and drawer paper. No silverware, plates, pans, or glasses. The kitchen was empty of any utensils or other common accoutrements.
Next he moved to the two-stall garage. It was vacant except for a green, wheeled garbage can. He flipped the top open. It was completely empty, nary a scrap of paper inside. Looking around he noted nothing in the garage. No shovels, rakes, brooms, tools, garbage bags, anything one would typically find in a man-cave. The cement floor was nearly spotless, other than a light coating of dust and some light tire marks, truck width apart, a van perhaps. There were no cleaning supplies, no mops, buckets, rags or vacuum cleaner, and no dirty towels or refuse. The place seemed almost sterile.
Back in the kitchen, Mac stood with his hands on his hips, looking around. This could be the place, but if it was, the kidnappers had again left nothing behind. It could just as easily be that the house was being cleaned or readied for tenants, not occupied, although Hall seemed pretty certain that people had moved in. They were trying to track down the home’s owner. Maybe he’d be able to shed some light on it all.
“Mac! Come down here,” Lich bellowed from the basement.
Mac bounded down two steps at a time. At the bottom he turned right, down the dark wood-paneled and linoleum-floored hallway that wrapped around the steps to a back bedroom on the left. Inside the bedroom he found Lich and the two techs standing between two twin beds. The beds had silver-barred head and footboards, along with mattresses and box springs, but no sheets or blankets. The beds sat on a gray cement floor. As with the rooms upstairs, it smelled faintly of disinfectant.
Lich waved Mac over to the bed on the left and pointed to the end posts. “See the scrapes here?” Lich said, pointing at the right post of the headboard and then to the left side. “Then, on the other side, the same thing. Then down on the footboard, the side posts, same thing.”
“Yet,” Mac said, waving to the head and footboards, “the rest of the rails are pristine, unscratched.”
“Right,” Lich said, and then turned to the other bed. “And we have exactly the same thing over here. You know what I think?” Dick asked, a twinkle in his eye.
“Hit me with it,” Mac said.
Lich moved to the end of the bed on the right. “Girls are on the beds, arms cuffed to the posts for the headboard and either cuffed or manacled to the footboard,” he said, pointing with his pen at the headboard and then back down to the footboard.
“And the scratches are from the cuffs moving up and down on the posts, the girls struggling to get free,” Mac added.
“ Right,” Lich said, nodding.
“The girls were here, man,” Mac said, with conviction now. “I can feel it. Upstairs, the house has been cleaned top to bottom. The techs are processing it, but they’re finding nothing. These guys are so careful, they even remove the cleaning supplies and the trash. All of that stuff is gone.” Mac spoke with a modicum of admiration. “They’re ready even when we get a break.”
“My gut tells me your gut is right,” Lich said in agreement.
“I’m right,” Mac said, walking out of the bedroom, down the hall and back to the family room at the bottom of the steps. “They used this,” Mac said, waving his arms around, “as a safe house. They take Shannon on Sunday, drive out to River Falls, dump the one van, transfer into the other, drive back here and chain her to the bed in the basement. Then they can take an hour, run up to Clearwater to place the call, then come back nice and easy-like. Whole thing takes maybe three to four hours.”
“They stay here overnight,” Lich said, picking up on the thread. “So they’re close to St. Thomas and are in position to take Carrie the next day.”
“And then,” Mac said, pacing now, his left hand grabbing the back of his neck while he gestured with his right hand, “They bring Carrie back here after they dump the van over in south Minneapolis.”
“Precisely,” Lich said.
Mac laughed.
“What?”
“You said, ‘precisely.’”
“Fuck you,” Lich went back to the task at hand. “Monday night one of the kidnappers drives over to Ellsworth to make the call and then drives back.”
“Then they take the girls and put them underground, but it’s someplace that isn’t that far from here,” Mac said. “So while we’re running around down in Ellsworth and dragging Drew Wiskowski in for questioning, they’re putting together that video.”
“Which they put under the stands at the football field sometime overnight,” Lich added. “After which they come back here.”
“Exactly,” Mac said. “The house gives them a good central staging area, so they can be close to town and operate, yet they’re not too far from wherever the girls are buried.”
“I shouldn’t smile,” Lich said, smiling. “But we’re on it, man. This is something. We just have to lay in wait.”
“ If they come back,” Mac said, doubt creeping onto his face. “This place has been cleaned, is clean,” he said as he climbed the basement steps. “What if they’re not planning on coming back? The ransom call comes tomorrow at six. What if we’ve missed them?”
“Only one way to find out,” Lich said following.
“I know. We’ve got to sit on it,” Mac answered.
21