Chapter Fifty-Two
FIFTY-TWO
Tim
“Is something burning?”
Eva asked it timidly, and only then did Tim notice the acrid smell of smoking oil filled the air.
“Shoot,” Shana hissed, hiking Darcy higher onto her hip and running for the stove. Tim didn’t take his eyes off Eva, but behind her he could see Shana dumping a charred quesadilla from the frying pan into the sink.
“How did you know where we live?” Tim asked, anger tightening his voice.
“I’m sorry,” the young woman said quickly. “I really needed to see you. I went to the station, but you’d just gotten into your car, so … I followed you.”
To my house. My family. The blood in Tim’s veins sang with fury. The rain had been heavy, the lights from the car behind him blurred. He’d been focused on getting home safely. Other cars doing the same thing had been irrelevant.
Shana was back. Studying her, Eva said, “You’re the detective who interviewed me at Mikko’s. You guys are a couple?”
“We are,” said Shana, holding Darcy a little closer. “What’s going on, Eva?”
Tim wasn’t ready to let the intrusion, which felt more like a security breach, go, but Shana was already guiding the woman to the couch.
What was so urgent that she’d followed two state police investigators home through an intense spring storm rather than going to the barracks in the morning?
As Shana invited Eva to sit down, she caught Tim’s gaze.
Much as he hated Eva’s presence in the house, they had to find out.
Eva’s arrival had altered the mood, with Darcy especially.
It was the lack of attention from the surprise guest, and the late hour, and the fact that she still hadn’t been fed.
On Shana’s lap, Darcy bucked and squirmed.
Tim went to the kitchen for a squeeze pouch of applesauce and some Goldfish crackers.
It wouldn’t satisfy the kid for long, but it might buy them a few minutes.
“I’m sorry,” Eva said again. “I didn’t know what else to do. Is it true she got away? The woman from the house? They said on TV that she escaped.”
“That is true, unfortunately,” Shana replied. “I wouldn’t worry, though. We’ll find her.”
Eva nodded, but she looked unsure. If she’d seen the news, she knew that an army of uniforms was searching for Molly Kranz, and that three days had passed since she’d gotten away. Whatever techniques Molly was using to evade them, they were effective.
“Do you know something about Molly Kranz?” asked Tim. “Is that why you’re here?”
Eva Ki hadn’t been a priority in the investigation.
She was a witness to the phrogger, but that was all; she and Mikko had only been dating a few months, and had met long after Angelica’s death.
It struck Tim, though, that Eva might know more than they were giving her credit for.
She was Mikko Helle’s girlfriend, after all.
Except, apparently, she wasn’t.
“It happened on Saturday night,” Eva explained when she told them. “It was my decision to end it with him.”
Shana said, “Can we ask why?”
Eva breathed out a sigh. “Part of it’s about the house.
I could never go back there, knowing what I know.
I can’t stop picturing that poor woman’s body.
Bones,” she corrected, looking faintly gray.
“They were right downstairs from where I slept and showered and sat drinking coffee like everything was fine. I only spent one night in the house, but I feel … I don’t know.
Violated, I guess. I can’t go back, and Mikko loves that place. Even now.”
“You said that’s part of it,” said Tim. “What’s the rest?”
“The rest,” she said, “is Mikko. The way he reacted to all of this bothered me a lot. I expected him to be freaked out—I sure as hell was—but it feels like that woman’s death didn’t faze him at all.”
“What makes you say that?” Shana asked as she adjusted Darcy, who was probing her lidded snack cup for more crackers, on her knee.
“He was completely focused on himself. When am I going to get the house back? Should I make a statement to the press? Do I need a PR person? I kept saying how awful I felt for the woman’s family.
He just shrugged and turned the subject back to him.
He went out with a couple of friends last night—and not just for drinks, but to party.
I mean, who does that? He’s actually a pretty selfish person,” she said, her mouth dipping into a frown. “It’s always all about Mikko.”
“Is partying something Mikko does a lot?” In the feature Tim had read about him online, the writer hadn’t shied away from Helle’s uninhibited behavior, and that behavior had included plenty of visits to clubs.
Eva said, “A lot more than me. In D.C. he goes out four, five nights a week with whoever’s around—and someone’s always around, because Mikko’s always the one who pays for it.
People take advantage of that, but I don’t even think he cares.
He likes pretty things and pretty people, and he hates being alone. ”
“Eva,” said Shana, setting Darcy on the couch beside her. The applesauce and crackers seemed to have done the trick. “Did Mikko ever talk about the party he had in the house last year? Right after he bought it?”
“Actually,” she said, “yeah. Last week, before everything happened with the intruder, he was talking about the house and how great the renovation turned out. He said he wanted to christen it with some big event, like what he did last summer. I asked him who he’d even invite, since we don’t have any friends here.
Mikko started laughing. He said I might not have any friends, but he had his boys, and they’d make sure the party was hopping. ”
“What boys?”
“That’s exactly what I said. I had no idea who he was talking about.
But I think I do now. An hour ago,” Eva said, “right before I went to the station to look for you, I saw Mikko at the resort where I’m staying.
Castle View, in Alexandria Bay. He was standing at a table in the bar, talking to someone.
I couldn’t see who it was at first because they were sitting down, but Mikko looked pretty serious.
When he left, I saw the other guy. It was that contractor,” she said. “The one who renovated Mikko’s house.”
“Terry Martino?” said Tim.
“Yeah.”
“You’re sure it was him?”
Eva nodded. “I met him last month, when I came with Mikko to see the progress on the renovation. He was in the house last year, right? After Mikko bought it? I remember them talking about that. Mikko took Terry on a tour of the house so that Terry could write up a quote. I read that the woman went missing last summer, and, well, Terry was there—and then I saw them together today, and … I don’t know.
Why did they need to meet up when the work on the house is all done? ”
Tim’s mind was working fast. “Did you catch any of their conversation?”
“All I heard was Mikko telling him it was going to be OK. He was definitely trying to comfort the guy. Terry looked a little shaken.”
“Did either of them see you?” asked Shana.
“I don’t think so. No.”
Tim slotted the new information into the existing facts, checking for a fit.
Terry Martino had renovated Mikko’s house, but the work was complete now, the owner moved in.
Eva was right to question that. Why would Terry still be in contact with Mikko?
And why would Mikko need to assure him that everything would be OK?
A scenario was forming in his mind, slippery at first but then firmer.
A lump of clay on a potter’s wheel, slowly taking shape.
Tim thought of Mikko’s claim to Eva that he had friends in the area.
Was Terry one of those? Tim wanted nothing more than to hit pause on Eva’s visit so he could debrief with Shana.
That, and check his email. Stacy still hadn’t sent him the list of people she knew at the party.
Across from him, Shana’s eyebrows were cinched.
She was watching him closely. Trying to read his mind.
“Eva,” he said, “I have to ask. If you broke up with Mikko on Saturday night, why are you still here?”
Tim had always felt the Thousand Islands held a kind of mystique, some inscrutable magic that lured you in.
There were those who intended to come for a weekend, just long enough to dip their toes in the river, but it got its hooks into most visitors, reeling them back.
Eva had come for Mikko, and he had a feeling she hadn’t stuck around for the scenery.
Just like Molly Kranz, she had her own reasons for staying when she could have gone home.
“I didn’t plan to stick around,” said Eva.
“I didn’t know that woman. But I can’t stop imagining what it was like for her in that basement.
I know it doesn’t make sense. She was dead, she didn’t feel anything.
But the idea of her all alone down there …
it haunts me. I want to know,” she said in a rickety voice, “who put her there.
“Whoever did this to that girl, I need to know that they’re going to pay.”