Serena started, as if coming out of a trance. “No, that’s all we have for now.”
“Okay, so these people basically grabbed Chelsey and vanished into thin air,” Maggie concluded with a scowl. “That brings us to task number two. Let’s find out who did this. Ultimately, identifying the kidnappers may also be our best bet at locating Chelsey, unless we get lucky with a call to the tip line. I checked in with police in the larger cities around the state to see if they had reports of similar abductions, just in case we have a kidnapping ring operating here that hasn’t come to light yet. Nothing was on their radar. To me, that suggests that this was most likely a one-off crime specifically targeted at Chelsey Webster.”
She paused.
“That also leads me to task number three. We need to decide whether Gavin Webster is a victim or a suspect. A few months ago, he was a struggling low-end lawyer. Now, thanks to his dead sister, he’s got millions in the bank. One way or another, money is the obvious motive here. Either someone saw an opportunity to extort a big payday from Gavin, or Gavin decided he’d rather spend his windfall as a single person, not a married person. Regardless, I think there’s likely to be some kind of connection between Gavin and Chelsey and whoever did this. Someone knew about the inheritance, and someone knew the two of them well enough to come up with this plan.”
Guppo had finished his Fritos and was examining the inside of the bag for crumbs. “Does your gut lean one way or another on Gavin?”
“I... don’t... know,” she said slowly, because that was the same question Maggie had been asking herself since three in the morning. Normally, her instincts didn’t waffle about suspects. She knew almost immediately whether she trusted what someone was telling her. But Gavin was different. Maybe it was all the time he’d spent confusing juries and lying to defend guilty clients, but she found herself struggling to get inside his head.
“If he was involved, he’s covering it well,” she went on. “For the time being, it doesn’t matter, because our plan’s the same regardless. I want to know everything there is to know about both of them. Gavin. Chelsey. Their marriage. Their work. Their clients. Their friends. I want phone records, credit card records, bank statements. And I want to know who gave Gavin one hundred thousand dollars in cash. He won’t say, and that means the money is probably dirty.”
She clapped her hands like a football coach.
“Okay, everybody, let’s get busy. We’ll meet back here in six hours for another update. If Chelsey Webster is still alive, she’s at risk with every minute that goes by. I want to find her, and I want to find her now.”
After everyone else filed out of the room, Serena watched Maggie slump into one of the chairs and put her feet up on the conference table. Maggie drank her Coke until there was nothing left in the paper cup, and then she worked her straw around the bottom, making an annoying slurping noise. Serena waited.
“I want you to go to Rice Lake,” Maggie said finally.
“What’s there?”
“Gavin’s parents. They’re his alibi. He says he was there for a couple of days, and he didn’t head home until eight o’clock in the evening. I want to know exactly when he left, but don’t let them know we suspect anything. And get everything you can out of them. The marriage. The inheritance. If they heard stories about any of Gavin’s clients. Whatever you can find out.”
Serena nodded. “The neighbors across the street said Chelsey was concerned about Gavin. She was wondering whether he was cheating. She told them he was acting odd about the money, too. Odd enough that she joked about her safety. It may be nothing. Then again—”
“Interesting,” Maggie replied. “Well, see if the parents think the inheritance changed Gavin. That amount of money can turn people weird.”
“I will.”
Serena stood up, but Maggie used her index finger to direct her back to her seat. “Hang on. I’m not done.”
“Okay.”
Maggie took a long time to say anything more. “I can’t believe I have to ask you this, but did you steal somebody’s dog, Serena?”
Serena shrugged. She’d known what the question was going to be, and she knew that Maggie already knew the answer. “Yeah. I did. Well, I rescued a dog, actually.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
The more upset she was, the more Maggie swore.
“These people were abusing their dog,” Serena replied by way of excuse. “They left him out in the pouring rain, and they didn’t bring him in even after I told them to.”
“Then you call animal control. You don’t just take it.”
“I call animal control, and months later, maybe they do something, but more likely, they do nothing.”
“You’re a police detective, not the Humane Society.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“Well, you say you’re aware, but then you went and stole a dog,” Maggie snapped.
“What do you want me to do?”
Maggie rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to deliver what Serena assumed would be another expletive. Then she took a deep breath and stopped herself. She went on with a veneer of calm. “Serena, I know you’re going through shit. I’m sorry about that. I feel for you, I really do. I already told you that you don’t need to be here. I have no problem with you taking time to get your head together.”
“I’m fine,” Serena reiterated.
Maggie exploded again. “You are not fine! You fucking stole a dog!”
“Look—” Serena began, but Maggie interrupted her sharply.
“Stop. Listen to me. If you’re going to be here, I need your head in the game. Is that clear? This is a big investigation, and we’re dealing with a defense lawyer. Everything has to be done by the book. If Gavin is guilty, our case has to be bulletproof. If he’s not guilty, he will crucify us in the media over any slipup. I can’t cut you any slack because you’re Stride’s wife or because we’re friends.”
Serena opted not to point out that they weren’t really friends. Instead, she simply said, “Understood.”
“If you make a mistake, you’re off this case. Got it?”
“Got it.”
Maggie nodded. “Fine. Go to Rice Lake. Talk to Gavin’s parents. And Serena?”
“What?”
“Give those people back their dog.”
7
But Serena didn’t.
While she drove south out of Superior on Highway 53 toward Rice Lake, the Border collie sat upright in the passenger seat and curiously watched the forested landscape passing by on both sides of the car. Dry now, the dog had a lush coat, black on his lower body with a white tuxedo vest, and a black head with just a ribbon of white fur running down the middle of his face to his nose. His head didn’t seem to have fully grown into his big ears, which drooped a little of their own weight. His eyes were dark, and one seemed to open more than the other, which gave him a permanently mournful expression.
“So do you have a name?” Serena asked.
The dog, hearing her voice, seemed to know she was talking to him — she’d checked; it was a him — and his head swung to look at her. She spotted a collar nestled tightly in the fur of his neck, and as she drove, she worked with her fingers to find his red ID tag. She squinted at what was etched on it.
“Sad?” she said, shaking her head. “Seriously? They named you Sad Sacks?”
Hearing his name, the dog barked.
“Well, sorry, buddy, but I’m not calling you Sad. At least while we’re together, we need an alternative. Any suggestions?”
The dog kept looking at her, his floppy ears pricking up a bit.