Talia Devine's POV
St. Paul Homicide Division
Tuesday, September 21, 2021
Background investigations were boring as hell. I'd rather be in the field doing interviews, but I was the junior detective. The shit jobs flow downhill.
I opened up a Word document, then started with a basic internet search. The browser selected the most recent and popular articles first, in this case, a tabloid article from an hour ago. "
Bestselling Author Plays while Ex-Wife Lays In Morgue,"
the headline said. I clicked on the link, and up came a photo.
Damn. David Hardin was freaking HOT! His bio headshots were all right, but this telephoto shot showed him as he exited Lake Superior after a morning swim. David's body matched that of an Olympic swimmer; broad and muscular shoulders, V-taper to a narrow waist, and powerful legs. His arms showed evidence of lifting weights, the bicep clearly defined as he lifted a towel from the rock. I could see the scars on the right side of his torso, a hands-width from the visible six-pack. They were the only faults on the Adonis emerging from the water.
It was the perfect clickbait.
I shook my head, reminding myself that he was thirty-seven years old and the prime suspect in a violent murder. I scrolled down while my subconscious reminded me how long it had been since I'd had a proper screw.
The article said very little; it focused on the 'sheltered' author having fun as the investigation into Tracy's murder continued. The rest was nothing new; a photo of Tracy outside the courthouse and how the police were 'baffled' by the case. They played the real-life murder mystery up.
David's name got mentioned in almost all the articles on Tracy's murder, but only in the background paragraphs. The pair divorced in 2014 after six years of marriage. David's side wasn't quoted, but Tracy said in a 2019 interview that the divorce was amicable, and she was pleased he'd done so well since then. "I speak to him a few times a year, but I haven't seen him since the divorce. He wants me to find happiness without him," she said. I found the divorce decree in county records to back that up. David kept his entire police pension and a third of the settlement with the city, with no alimony.
David then disappeared to the North Shore to write his books while Tracy made her reputation as a county prosecutor.
Working my way back on the timeline, I didn't find much going back to his divorce that wasn't book-related. Property records showed he lived in a cabin west of Tofte for a few years before building his current home. Google Earth and Zillow showed his lakeside home on five acres with 750 feet of waterfront north of Two Harbors. He'd done well for himself as a writer. County records showed a 2021 valuation of $1.987 million, up $300,000 from 2020, with no mortgage. Zillow had the property doubling in value since 2018.
Last year, an article about "North Shore Most Eligible Bachelors" estimated David Hardin's net worth at ten million dollars. Tracy Hardin was engaged to a professional hockey player who just signed a three-year, twenty-five-million dollar extension. Money wasn't an issue, and neither was jealousy. David hadn't even seen her despite living only a few hours away.
I found a few articles on the lawsuit they settled with the City of Minneapolis over the shooting. The city denied wrongdoing but paid out $500,000 and made changes to their officer training. By all accounts, David was a good police officer who lost his career in a tragic incident. I'd have to talk to his fellow officers to get the real story.
Lunchtime was approaching, and I still didn't have a thing worthy of further investigation. I wasn't the only one frustrated with progress. When James Maloney took a call and yelled for everyone to shut up, we did.
"Hardin's on the way to the hospital with a cut to his hand?" I was paying attention. "Drunk off his ass and breaking things. Lake View Hospital emergency room." He looked at me, and I started looking up the phone number. "Thanks for the call, Sheriff."
Things moved quickly after that. Anna had started preparing a warrant application for David's home, using the similarities to the book as the basis. It wasn't enough probable cause, but with David having a severe cut to his finger and trashing his house in a drunken rage? It was a high-profile case, and this might be the break we needed. If we matched a single spot of blood at the crime scene? Or found her blood on his clothing or shoes? That would be enough to make an arrest.
The local judge bought off on it. We got two search warrants. The first was for his person for photos and a DNA sample. The second was for his home, seeking any electronic communications, dirty clothing, or potential blood evidence. Captain Cullen wasn't taking any chances with local law enforcement; he called the Minnesota BCA and asked their Duluth office to handle the search of his home. He called together the group for a quick meeting once it was all in play. "We're crossing the Rubicon with these warrants, and it's a gamble," he told the room. "The search warrant is going to cause significant media interest. Captain Lewis will handle the press. As of now, David Hardin is a person of interest. Our job is to find probable cause for an arrest."
I went back to research after eating my lunch salad. By mid-afternoon, we'd given David Hardin more reasonable doubt than ever. The knife cut? It was no more than a few hours old, and his body showed no other injuries. The doctor said he'd removed a glass fragment, which matched up with the bloodstains on a broken picture frame in David's office. The BCA technicians found bloody clothes in the sink, but the blood type didn't match the victim.
The loser of this all was Captain Lewis, our press liaison. He had to stand in front of a wall of cameras and answer questions without saying anything. The story was a perfect storm of celebrities, sex, and murder. He couldn't comment on the status of the investigation, of course. That honor went to the talking heads and politicians, and boy, were they talking.
The 6 PM newscast was on in the corner when the press conference started. Yvonne turned the volume up while the entire office watched David Hardin get ready to speak live from the lobby of a Two Harbors office building. "Who is that in the background," Hank asked.
"The black guy on the left is his old partner on the Minneapolis Police, Larry Miller. He's a Sergeant in the Fourth Precinct and was the one who took him to the Emergency Room." He was also on my list of people to interview for background. "I don't recognize the guy in the suit."
"On the North Shore, if you're in a suit, you're probably a lawyer," James replied.
The lawyer stood to his left side as David approached the lectern. He kept his bandaged left index finger by his side. He looked confident as he waited for his lawyer to start. My mind drifted to the photo from this morning, imagining the muscles playing under that plaid shirt and windbreaker.
"My name is Gerald Costley, spelled C-O-S-T-L-E-Y, and I am Mr. Hardin's attorney." I could envision the advertisement; 'I'm Costley, but I'm worth it.' I kept watching David as he stood there. "David will make a short statement followed by a question and answer session. If I ask him not to answer, it is because he remains under unfounded suspicion of a crime, and I am protecting his legal rights. With that, Mr. David Hardin."
"Good evening. Late Sunday night, someone brutally murdered my ex-wife Tracy in her apartment. Words cannot express the sorrow and shock I felt upon hearing the news. My thoughts and prayers go out to her fiance, parents, family, and friends as they deal with this tragic loss." I could see tears forming in his eyes, and it didn't seem fake. "Tracy Hardin was a wonderful person and a tireless advocate for the victims of sexual violence. Her killer must be brought to justice, adding one final conviction to her sterling record of public service. To this end, I am announcing a one-hundred-thousand-dollar reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of her killer. The St. Paul Police tip line is at 651-555-8787. I will now take questions."
Holy shit! That was a curveball right across the plate!
A female reporter from a Duluth station got the first question. "Mr. Hardin, do you know why the police served a search warrant on your home today?"
"I do not know their justification for the warrant, as the court sealed the affidavit supporting the search. If you can find out, let me know. My lawyer has a copy of the warrants and a list of items removed. They won't find anything because I had nothing to do with her death. I loved Tracy and only wanted her to find happiness in her new life. Hell, I haven't been south of Duluth in five years!" That got a chuckle. "I'll give them the benefit of the doubt on this one."
"Do you have any ideas about who the killer may be, Mr. Hardin?"
