Conclusion

Lake County Detective Sven Nordstrum's POV

Highway 61 Turnoff North of Two Harbors

Tuesday, January 31, 2023

"Two Harbors police, I need a checkpoint on southbound traffic at Superior Shores immediately," I radioed over the police frequency. I was driving north at ninety miles an hour to the kidnapping scene. "Deputies Carver and Johnson, you set up a checkpoint northbound near Split Rock. It's only been eighteen minutes since the victim got off the bus. Don't let this guy get away!"

The units acknowledged the orders as I drove on. Setting the southbound checkpoint at the north side of Two Harbors was a risk, but one I had to take. Highway 61 had few roads heading away from the Lake in this section. Once you hit Two Harbors, there were plenty. Thirty minutes later, you reach Duluth. At that point, finding this girl is blind luck. "Dispatch, when is the Amber Alert going out?"

"The Lieutenant is on the phone now," she responded. "No ETA."

Shit. Lake County is too big to lock down with the two units available to respond, and it takes two officers to run a checkpoint. We needed a break, so the public had to start looking for her. Every second, every minute more meant less chance of finding Jennifer Parson alive.

I saw the flashing lights on the shoulder of Highway 61 and pulled in behind the closest cruiser. Deputy Parker was putting up crime scene tape while Deputy Anders marched back and forth, talking on his cell. He saw me walking up and held up a hand. "Get here as soon as you can, Mr. Parson. We're doing everything we can." He hung up, looking like he'd just shot Old Yeller. "I'm so fucking sorry," he said as he pocketed the phone.

"What happened?"

Parker let out a breath. "David Hardin hired me to ensure Jennifer Parson got home safely on days she took the bus home alone."

"Why? Is this more of that book shit? I thought that guy was dead?"

"He said she was in danger of being kidnapped, but I don't know more. He paid for an hour each time, and it's easy." Many law enforcement officers moonlight as security, though not for 14-year-olds. "I got a text from her late while I was down by Knife River. I should have made it easy, but I got stuck in traffic behind an accident. The bus was already gone when I arrived. Jennifer wasn't here, but I found her stuff." He pointed his flashlight at where her backpack and gear bag lay on the road. He pulled her cell phone out of his pocket, secured in an evidence bag. I could see the footprint on the screen. "That's when I called it in."

"Did you see anything suspicious? Any vehicles?"

"No. I didn't see a fucking thing. The bus driver verified he dropped her off, and her father says their alarm system is still activated. She's gone."

"DAMMIT!" I looked around the scene. "Without a vehicle, we've got shit to go on." I walked to the edge of the tape, using my flashlight to look at the tracks left in the packed snow. It took a little time to figure it out. "I'm pretty sure the last vehicle through turned north. Wide tires and wheelbase, probably a pickup truck." I took out my high-resolution digital camera and started taking pictures.

I listened to the radio calls while I gathered evidence. Both checkpoints were up, which would back up traffic big time while they checked interiors and trunks for the missing girl. My phone buzzed; it was the Sheriff. I filled him in on the situation. "I don't know if we got the roadblocks up in time," I told him, "Much less whether he stayed on sixty-one. It's been thirty-six minutes, and we don't have a damn Amber Alert yet!"

"We don't have much for that except the location and her picture," the Lieutenant said. "BCA wants a vehicle description before they send it out."

"Damn. Can you call Duluth and Lutsen and have them set up checkpoints? We need to expand the search radius."

"I'm on it."

"What about a helicopter?"

There was a pause. "A helicopter does no good unless there is a chase. They can't make out vehicles in the dark, and we have no idea where to vector it. State Patrol has one on standby should we get into a pursuit."

He was right, but I hated not being able to do anything. Child kidnappings were the worst.

That's when Parker came running up. "Boss, we got a description of the kidnapper's vehicle!" He showed me his phone; a text message had just come across. It showed a white Ford delivery van, an old one, maybe a 90's model, so side door or windows. It was a popular truck in its day, built on a truck frame with double doors in the back. The phone dinged, and he swiped to the next photo. It was a blowup of the license plate.

"Lieutenant, we've got a plate number," I said. "Minnesota plate, Sierra November Mike Six Nine Uniform, say again, Minnesota SNM-69U. Eighties or Nineties vintage Ford Econoline delivery van, white or light color. Sending you the pics now." I had Parker forward the pictures to a text group with the Lieutenant and all Deputies on the work chat.

"Van comes back stolen six days ago from a used car lot in Duluth," the Lieutenant said. "Who the hell steals a van made in 1994 that's on sale for eight hundred dollars?"

"No GPS tracking and no chip key," I replied. I heard the all-points bulletin on the van go out on the radio. "The Amber Alert?"

"I've already forwarded the pictures to BCA. They should be activating it shortly," he replied.

Meanwhile, Parker's phone got two more pictures. One showed the grainy face of a thirty-year-old white male, while the other showed him lifting Jennifer from behind in a chokehold. "Forward those right fucking now," I told him. "Check your phone, Lieutenant."

"YES! I'll get this photo cropped and send it to the media. Where did we get this?"

I looked at the angles of the shots, then shined my flashlight into the trees until I found the cameras. "Surveillance cameras," I replied. "Expensive ones with infrared illumination. Parker, who sent these?"

"I don't know. It's not the victim's father. I just got off the phone with him."

It had to be David Hardin. "Text David Hardin back and ask him to call me directly." He took a few seconds to type it out. A minute later, my phone rang with an unknown number. "Detective Nordstrum, Lake County Sheriff's Department."

"David Hardin. How the FUCK did he take her from under our noses? Where was her protection?"

"That's our fuckup, David. The surveillance helps. What else do you have?"

"I'll text you the address and password to the Web server with the surveillance footage. You should be able to pull whatever you need from there."

"That's a big help, Mr. Hardin. Where are you?"

"Somewhere over Alabama. I should land in Duluth just before midnight. You better find Jennifer before I get home."

David's accusatory tone grated at me. "Is that a threat, sir?"

"If the guy who took her is following my book, this is the best night she has left on earth," he replied. "Anything else I can find to help, I'll send your way."

Alan Parson arrived just after seven and was equally worried and pissed off. His wife arrived shortly after. Based on the yelling, I wouldn't want to be him tonight. Alan had minimized the warnings, and their only daughter was paying the price.

David arrived just before one in the morning, after the crime scene techs had completed their work. He mentioned one thing I hadn't considered. "He didn't disguise his face, and that's a bad thing," he said. "If you are holding for ransom, they can't be able to identify you. This guy didn't care that she saw his face. He won't let her out of the basement alive." He looked up the road to the north, the way the surveillance video showed the van turning. "I need to get my wife to bed. I'll call if I have anything else that will help."

He didn't get anything else, though the Lieutenant said the surveillance footage was great. We had a vehicle description, license plate, suspect description, videotape, Amber Alert, and every cop on the North Shore looking for her.

And we had no fucking idea where she was.

Chapter 67

David Hardin's POV

Home north of Two Harbors, MN

Wednesday, February 1, 2023

I'd never hoped for a nightmare until last night, and it still didn't happen.

I stood in the deep section of the hot tub, letting the jets work my torso after my morning workout. Talia was still sleeping, exhausted from the long flight. She'd used the bathroom when I got up at seven. Rocky jumped back on the bed to keep her warm after I let him out for a few minutes. It was five degrees out, so my morning swim was in the endless pool. I missed the warm Caribbean waters out the back door, though.

The television was on the local news coverage, which had little but weather and the kidnapping to show. I couldn't imagine what Alan and Brenda Parson were going through. Another monitor showed the outside surveillance cameras, and the press was back in force by the road.

I climbed out of the hot tub, showered, and donned a robe. I didn't want to wake Talia up yet, so I took the back way out of the pool area and headed to the kitchen. My housekeeper had stocked the fridge with fresh foods, so I started breakfast. I was plating the breakfast sandwiches when Rocky came running to his food bowl. "Morning, baby," I said as Talia walked in using her cane. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore," she replied. "Rocky smelled bacon and started whining at the door."

I figured as much; that boy loved his bacon. I broke up a leftover piece and dropped the chunks over his bowl. Half didn't touch anything before he'd snarfed them up. "Have a seat." Before joining her at the kitchen table, I brought her a sandwich, coffee, and juice.

She looked at the television I had muted. "Any progress?"

"No."

"We can't sit here doing nothing," she told me.

"We aren't cops anymore, honey. They've got county and city cops plus the FBI working it. Resources aren't the problem. Leads are."

"We could volunteer to run down leads. We could answer phones or something."

"I'll ask, but I don't want you sitting in an office. You need to rest and recover."

Talia rolled her eyes. "I can do that while helping."

We finished eating, then I dressed and headed out. I walked down the private drive to the Parson house, seeing a half-dozen cars I didn't recognize. I knocked on the door, and an older woman answered it. "Let him in, Mom," Brenda said.

"David Hardin," I said. "I apologize for disturbing you all."

"You've got nothing to apologize for, David," Alan said as he got up to hug me. "You did what you could, and he still took her."

I spent a few minutes with the extended family, then went to sit with the FBI agents in the office area. Standard FBI procedure in a kidnapping case had agents monitoring the phones in case of a ransom call. "Morning, guys. David Hardin," I said as I extended my hand.

"Special Agent Courtney Lassiter, Duluth Field Office," the young agent said. "I'm a big fan of your books."

"Thank you. I wish people would stick to enjoying the read instead of acting them out." I turned to her partner.

"Special Agent Theodore Winters, Mr. Hardin," he said with a grin. "We spoke briefly during the serial killer case."

It took a second to remember. "Gerald Costley didn't get you transferred to the Minot office, apparently."

"My boss told me to give it a shot. I figured an ex-cop wouldn't fall for it, but I had to try. You guys drew the short straw?"

He nodded. "We've been here since ten last night. The Minneapolis office is sending a bunch of agents up to help out. The family has you to thank for that." I nodded. Without my surveillance video showing the kidnapping, this would be a missing person case until they got a ransom demand, which would never come. "What made you put the cameras up? Was it all the press coverage last year?"

I shook my head. "How much crazy do you want to hear?"

Courtney looked at me and laughed. "We've got two hours until the relief team gets here, and we all know this isn't a ransom kidnapping. I can handle the truth."

It turned out she couldn't. I spent fifteen minutes telling her about the dreams and how they became my books. "That makes zero sense," Courtney objected. "I can understand the first three books. The killer read them and followed the plan, but Book Four doesn't start with the victim getting kidnapped at the bus stop! And it came out years ago!"

"I didn't dream that part of the crime until December 21 last year, so it wasn't in the book," I told her. "The dream I had exactly matched the scene on the surveillance camera. The only thing I didn't know was when."

"And there's no way you could have done it. We verified your alibi at both airports," she told me.

We didn't get to talk longer because the heavy hitters from the Minneapolis Field Office and FBI Headquarters in Washington started to arrive. With all the media attention, FBI leadership wanted to be 'out front' on this case. I offered my help, which the Special Agent in Charge promptly and politely declined. I'm sure it had NOTHING to do with Talia and Molly Pierce solving the serial killer case without them.

I headed home and started a fire in the living room before joining Talia on the couch. We watched the waves rolling in through the picture windows as I went through what I'd learned. "They've got nothing," I told her. "Highway cameras showed the van going through the Lafayette Bluff tunnel but didn't pass Split Rock Lighthouse. Either the kidnapper holed up between them, or he went west. By now, he could be anywhere."

"We got the all-points-bulletin and Amber Alert out pretty fast, David. He'd be taking a big risk going on the road after that, even at night. I bet he's somewhere in Lake County."

She was probably right. "Where? There are thousands of houses and vacation homes within fifty miles."

"There has to be something in your dream that can help. I can't believe God gave you that dream only to have Jennifer killed anyway."

"You think God is doing this to me?"

She nodded. "Only God can see the future, but he didn't tell you WHY you had the dreams. You had the information to stop Doctor Ibanez's murder, but he didn't heed the warnings. You warned the Parson family and arranged extra security, but they didn't take you seriously. We have to be missing something."

"I don't know what," I said.

"Lie down and put your head in my lap," she told me. I did, then she had me close my eyes again. "Don't worry about the actual kidnapping. Focus on the dreams of her in the basement." I hated revisiting those dreams. I tried to relax as Talia ran her fingers through my hair. "Are you there?"

"Yes," I told her. The repetitive dream was etched deep in my memories.

"Don't look at the victim. Focus on the room. Are you looking at the basement?" I nodded. "What does the floor look like?"

"Concrete. Dirty, but not even, like boxes and stuff used to be there, but no one swept up after."

"Good," she told me. "Do you see any posts or walls?"

"There's a wall on the far side. Wooden doors and shiplap rough-cut wood for the wall. Wide stuff, not the kind you get at the home center. The wall on the right is the foundation. There's no window, just the rocks and the mortar."

"It's not concrete block or poured concrete?"

"No, it's an old-style foundation. I can see some water stains on it."

"What about the ceiling?"

I focused on it. "Wooden joists go across, and a bare light bulb hangs in the center. The ceiling isn't high; I'm not ducking, but it's not far above me. Maybe six and a half or seven feet?"

"Good. Anything else?"

I focused, but there was nothing. I couldn't avoid seeing everything else, even as I tried to focus on the background. Knowing it was Jennifer suffering like this made it ten times worse, and I couldn't stop the tears. "The walls are bare, and I don't see anything else but the chain, the mattress, and a bucket."

"Describe them."

"The chain is attached to an eye-bolt in the foundation. Handcuffs connect to the chain and her ankle. The mattress is cheap and stained, like for a cot or a single bed." The rape started, and I had to open my eyes before it became too much. I shook my head, then buried my face in her bosom as she held me tight. "She's suffering so much," I cried.

She helped me calm down. "It's time to get to work," she told me. "Grab my laptop, then we'll go to the office."

"To do what?"

"We're going to find our dog sitter," she told me.

We got the computers booted up; I accessed county real estate records while she pulled up Zillow and Google Maps. "The rough-hewn board walls and rock foundation mean our target house is old, probably built before World War Two. After that, concrete block foundation took over," she told me. "Most homes up here are on crawlspaces or slabs because it's so expensive to blast through rock. There can't be many old houses with basements in the likely area he's hiding."

It took us most of the day, but Talia was right. We found eighty-seven properties in Lake County north of us that fit the description. "Now what? You can't get a warrant based on what I saw in my dreams."

"Now we ask the Sheriff to stop by," Talia said. "I'm sure he'd love to run something down without the FBI taking credit for it. If he divides it up, they should be able to check these out."

"I could help."

"You can convince the Sheriff."

It turned out they didn't have much else to go on. They had a good idea who the kidnapper was from the tipline but hadn't confirmed it was him. "He got out of Illinois State Prison after the Cook County Prosecutor declined to oppose parole," the Sheriff said disgustedly. "The victim, who was twelve when he raped her, didn't even get a notification." He looked through the maps and the addresses we'd printed. "This will take a while."

"Do you have access to that State Patrol helicopter? The one with the FLIR camera?" Forward-Looking Infrared could sense heat and see in the dark.

"If I ask for it. What are you thinking?"

"Have your units check the places in town. If the driveway has clean snow, it's not the place. Meanwhile, give the map and list to the State Patrol. If the home is empty for the season, the owner will set the thermostat to around fifty and sixty degrees. If occupied, it will be higher. That will narrow things down for you."

"It's better than sitting on our ass waiting for a tip," he agreed. "Thanks for this. I'll keep you posted."

I didn't know if my dream was accurate enough to help, but I felt better watching him drive away.

Chapter 68

Lake County Detective Sven Nordstrum's POV

West Castle Danger Road

Thursday, February 2, 2023

"

Unit Ten Delta, 10-23, 1987 West Castle Danger Road."

The dispatcher repeated it as I turned into the driveway of the next home on my list to check tonight. Jennifer Parson had been missing for just over forty-nine hours without solid leads. Dayshift had been kept busy running down possible sightings of the van or the kidnapper, all of which amounted to nothing.

Our department was activated fully, half on days, half on nights. At shift change, the Sheriff pulled me aside. He explained how David and Talia came up with the list, and city cops or flyovers had already eliminated about a third of the list. "It's a shot in the dark, but I want you to work on it tonight. Get as many as possible before ten, and we'll pick it up on days." Cops waking people up in the middle of the night wasn't good, so the time limit made sense. "If you see anything suspicious, call for backup."

"Understood, sir." I'd spent the first twenty minutes plotting out the homes and planning a route to get to as many as possible. I figured I'd start at Jennifer's house, heading west where I had to before circling back to the lake.