Chapter 19
Clay has no intention of leaving Judd to it.
But he does leave Braedon with Judd then makes the half-hour drive up to Rochester.
He buys the bear canister at a sporting goods store, then goes to a pet store and buys a GPS dog collar.
It isn’t cheap, but it has an excellent battery life, is waterproof, and provides live GPS tracking so even if the kidnappers miss the canister, Clay can track it all the way to the Mississippi River and down to New Orleans if need be to retrieve Judd’s forty-five thousand dollars.
The bear canister is translucent blue like a five-gallon water bottle, with a big black lid that screws onto one end.
Clay fashions a false inner end cap for the lid out of black sheet plastic.
He removes the GPS component from the dog collar, tapes it inside the lid, then covers it with the sheet plastic.
He runs a few more errands up in Rochester, then returns to Riverwood and takes Braedon out for pizza.
“You sure you want to sleep at Daniel’s tonight?” says Clay, sprinkling his slice with red pepper flakes. “Sue and Carol are happy to have you.”
“Dad,” says Braedon, unable to stifle an eye roll. “Why would I want to stay with two old ladies when I can stay at Daniel’s? He has an Xbox. We’re going to play Halo all night. They don’t make Halo for PlayStation. It’s going to be epic.”
“Just checking. And you have to promise me you’ll stay in tonight.
No matter what. I don’t want you getting mixed up with those boys who stole the bike.
They’re trouble. And Daniel needs to give the bike back to them during the day in a public place.
Or he can just lock it to a bike rack, and the police can find it that way.
The boys’ less-than-professional paint job on that thing is more than a little suspicious. ”
“Yeah…” says Braedon. “But did you ask the police about Emily’s plan?”
“I did.” Clay can see that this is important to Braedon.
Maybe more than important. The boy’s childhood friendship with Emily might be morphing into something more adolescent.
“The police like Emily’s idea. So that’s also a possibility.
Daniel could give the bike back to them, and a few days later, the police will bust them for it. But not tonight.”
“Awesome,” says Braedon. “Emily’s going to be psyched. And Daniel and I won’t go out. I promise.”
“If you promise,” says Clay, “then that’s good enough for me.”
Clay drops Braedon at Daniel’s. His parents are both software engineers and work up in Rochester.
You can buy a hell of a house in Riverwood on the salary of two software engineers, and they did.
He leaves the boys as they play Halo on an eighty-inch screen in a family room big enough for several families.
He drops the canister off at Judd’s and makes no mention of the tracker. Clay guesses his father didn’t suggest using a tracker because he wants to keep the plan as clean as possible. And that’s why Clay doesn’t tell Judd what he’s done. Play it straight. Keep it simple.
Clay has some time to kill, so he heads over to Knut’s Sports Bar and finds a table in back near the jukebox and pool table.
It’s busy for a Monday night, thanks to a meat raffle being held to raise money for the local parks and rec department.
He watches a bar employee walking around with a roll of tickets and a wad of cash, making sales and giving change.
Clay scans the place to see if there’s anyone who looks like they’re dressed for night fishing but has stopped by the bar first for some liquid courage.
No such luck. Clay does, however, see people he knows.
Wags Becker, Steph’s estranged husband, the auto mechanic and denier of stealing catalytic converters, stands at the bar with a few friends.
One is Robert Hensel, owner of the scrapyard, bully of young Clay.
They’re speaking in loud bar voices. Clay can’t make out the words, but he can isolate Wags and Robert in the din.
They don’t look like they’re planning on wading into a river in a few hours, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be.
If Teddy was stealing catalytic converters for either or both of them, they had plenty of opportunity to nab Teddy.
Wags has a motive. He’s losing Steph’s income and the lifestyle it provided him.
Forty-five thousand dollars would go a long way toward giving Wags a comfortable transition into the single life.
Forty-five thousand dollars that won’t show up in his bank account or on his payroll statements.
Forty-five thousand dollars that would be free and clear of a divorce agreement or court-ordered settlement.
Clay also spots Steph gathered with her employees up toward the front window, looking red and blue in the light of a Hamm’s Beer neon sign.
She wears a sleeveless blouse and old jeans and from this distance, Clay can see the girl he dated in high school.
He watches Steph to see if she’s stealing glimpses of Wags.
Divorce in a small town. Not a lot of space for the combatants to get away from each other.
But Steph doesn’t look over at her soon-to-be ex-husband.
She does, however, make eye contact with another familiar face sitting on the opposite side of the bar.
Eli Hensel, whom Clay met at the scrapyard, sits with a few other twentysomethings.
The want-to-be re-teller of Oliver Twist throws a wry smile in Steph’s direction.
Clay is pretty sure he’s the only one in Knut’s who’s noticed the cross-bar connection.
Steph and Eli. She’s forty-two. He’s twenty-two.
Good for her, thinks Clay. Eli’s not a bad stepping stone out of her marriage.
Smart. Interesting. Ambitious. And good for Eli.
He’s not going to let twenty years get in the way of him and a beautiful, accomplished woman.
And then, as if sensing Clay’s observation, Steph looks over and offers Clay a slight smile and wave. He returns both. But Steph doesn’t walk over to say hello.
Deb’s cousin, Ash, chats up a woman who looks half his age.
He wears a cherry-red polo shirt, collar popped, and paper-white pants.
He’s drinking a cocktail of some sort, and the woman, or maybe she’s a girl, drinks what looks like a Long Island iced tea in a big snifter.
Ash is probably asking if she wants to come up to the house to see the horses and llamas.
Maybe he’d better wait until she finishes her fishbowl of alcohol.
Everything else happening in Knut’s looks normal.
The drink of choice by most is beer. Clay sees a handful of people downing shots, most likely J?germeister or Fireball.
The Minnesota Twins are on all the TVs except for one that shows a Stanley Cup finals game.
The Minnesota Wild are not in it, and few people seem to be paying attention.
Some patrons are eating pizzas that were frozen a few minutes ago.
That and bags of chips are all Knut’s has to offer food-wise.
Clay’s about to get up and go to the bar to order a beer when a server approaches with a pink drink.
“Hello,” says the server. “This is for you.” She sets the glass down on his table.
“What is it?” says Clay.
“A Shirley Temple,” says the server. “Your secret admirer has sent you one.”
“May I please have a Grain Belt to go along with it?”
“You certainly may. Be right back.” The server heads toward the bar.
Clay feels like an idiot sitting in Knut’s with a Shirley Temple.
He doesn’t like the attention it might draw.
He considers carrying it into the men’s room to dump it, but if Steph sent it, he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings.
He looks over to see if she’s watching him for a reaction, but she appears to be deep in conversation with her colleagues.
“If you use the straw, you won’t get a pink mustache.”
He looks to his right. Zoey Jensen stands near the jukebox. Out of uniform and wearing a baby-blue Minnesota Twins T-shirt and jeans. Her dark hair, freed from its braid, falls down well past her shoulders. She smiles. There must be a fluorescent light somewhere because her teeth glow white.
“I’m not afraid of getting a pink mustache,” says Clay. “But thank you. And have a seat.”
Zoey pulls up a chair and sits opposite Clay, blocking his view of Steph. “The Shirley Temple is a symbol of my wholesome intentions for our friendship. We are still friends, right?”
“Of course,” says Clay. “Some might say besties.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” says Zoey. “So let me ask you, friend. What’s a guy like you doing at a meat raffle like this? Out all on your lonesome on a Monday night?”
“Braedon’s at a sleepover. So why not?”
“Because you’re not a sit-in-a-bar kind of guy,” says Zoey.
“Yes, I am. I’ve sat in lots of bars.”
“People who sit in lots of bars usually sit at the bar. They don’t find the most out-of-the-way table and press their back against a wall to observe the shenanigans. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re staking out the place.”
“If I am,” says Clay, “I’m not doing a very good job. I didn’t see you coming.”
“That’s true. You’re not doing a very good job because I’m also staking out the place. Thought maybe I’d pick up on something that might lead to your uncle’s whereabouts.”
The front door opens, and in walk Officers Mike Wahlquist and Andy Kimmich, in uniform, guns in holsters, smiles on faces.
“Uh-oh. The entire Riverwood police force is here. Is this some kind of three-cop operation? Mike and Andy draw the attention, you observe reactions from the clientele?”
Zoey turns around to see what Clay sees. When she turns back toward him, Clay can see on Zoey’s face that this is not a three-cop operation.
Zoey says, “Mind if I sit next to you, friend?”
Without waiting for Clay’s response, Zoey scooches her chair around the table so she’s sitting next to him. Like a couple might do. She keeps her eyes on her underlings and says, “I sent a K-9 team out to Teddy and Deb’s this afternoon. They didn’t detect any scents that walked off the property.”
“Do you think Teddy was picked up in a vehicle?”
“Maybe,” says Zoey. “Or maybe he walked down to the river through Deb’s cousin’s property. What’s his name?”
“Ash. Ash Solbakken.”
“Right. He’s hit on me a few times. Interesting sense of fashion.
” Zoey helps herself to a sip of Clay’s Shirley Temple, then adds, “The dogs tracked Teddy’s scent down to the river on Ash’s property, but they lost it at the river.
Of course there were several scent trails leading down there.
He’s walked down there a million times. But if Teddy’s intent was to disappear, that would be a good way to do it. ”
With Zoey sitting next to him, practically touching her shoulder to his, Clay catches Steph looking their way.
This time she’s not smiling. Wags has also spotted them.
He’s far from smiling, seeing Clay sit next to the chief of police the day after Clay accused Wags of stealing catalytic converters.
But the real show is watching Andy and Mike buy a wad of meat raffle tickets, maybe a few hundred dollars’ worth, and handing them out to bar-goers and making a big deal of it like they’re a couple of Santa Clauses.
“Are they on duty or did they just get off?” says Clay.
“They’re on duty until midnight,” says Zoey. “Which begs the question: What the hell are they doing? It’s nine o’clock.” She sighs. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”
The bartender hands Officers Wahlquist and Kimmich bottles of Coke. Wahlquist slaps a bill on the counter. The bartender thanks him with praying hands and a slight bow.
“I have a guess,” says Clay. “Wahlquist told me he’s running for mayor this fall. Said he’s had it with the city council and they need to be put in their place.”
“So he’s buying votes with meat raffle tickets?”
“Welcome to Riverwood,” says Clay. “He hasn’t announced or filed his candidacy yet. Says he’s going to make the big reveal at the Fourth of July parade. So I suppose what he’s doing isn’t illegal. Just a good old boy trying to help his fellow citizens win some meat.”
“He shouldn’t be doing that while he’s on duty,” says Zoey. “I don’t mind him and Mike dropping in for a Coke. It’s solid community police work. But he shouldn’t be campaigning or bribing the good citizens of Riverwood for their votes.”
“You want to slip out of here before they realize you’re watching them?”
“Aren’t you supposed to buy me a drink first? Brag about your playing days in Europe? Try to impress me? Come on. I want to be wooed. Swept off my feet.”
“Oh,” says Clay. “Sorry, I didn’t mean slip out together. I have plans.” Clay has to be careful with Zoey. Her bullshit detector is cranked up to ten. “My dad and I are going to hit a few other bars in the county to see if we can learn anything new about Teddy.”
“Hmm,” says Zoey. “Judd probably wouldn’t want me to tag along.
” She sighs. “On the other hand, we’re going to have to break it to him sooner or later.
Our friendship, that is. Maybe the three of us could talk it out while we’re on the road between here and St. Charles.
Lot of miles to cover. And tonight’s as good a time as any.
I can’t live with our friendship in the closet anymore. ”
Clay sees a playful smile in Zoey’s eyes. He doesn’t want to admit to himself how attractive he finds her but he can’t help it. Lucky for Clay, he’s trained in being wary of attractive women. Especially one who comes on strong. Not being wary is how professional athletes can get in big trouble.
“Let me break it to my dad when it’s just him and me,” says Clay.
He almost wonders why he’s playing along, but he knows why.
He likes Zoey Jensen. And that’s okay. Especially now that he’s pretty sure Steph has plucked herself a boyfriend from the just-old-enough-to-drink pile.
What wouldn’t be okay is if Clay rushed into something with Zoey.
Small town. Big stakes. He has to take things slowly.
“All right,” says Zoey. “Tell Judd yourself. But until then, let’s sit here and wait for these two idiots to realize their boss is watching them.”