The Bodies Left Behind

fireplace. She intimidated the state lab in Gardener into analyzing it ASAP and learned that it was identical to ash produced by burning the manila folders issued to city workers. She also found the coiled bindings of steno pads, whichFeldman had used to take notes during field interviews.
    Eventually, by talking to his colleagues and friends and reviewing scraps of notes and logs of phone calls, Brynn had discovered that some neighbors of a businessman named Samuel Rolfe had complained about his new girlfriend’s treatment of her young children.
    The girlfriend’s name was Michelle Kepler.
    Bingo.
    The Milwaukee police had set up surveillance around Rolfe’s house but before they could get a warrant to move in, Brynn had gotten the phone call from the purported manager of the Harborside Inn. It struck her as suspicious and, after hanging up, she’d checked the incoming number. A prepaid mobile.
    She was sure the “clerk” was Michelle, setting her up to be shot.
    Tom Dahl called Milwaukee PD and they put together a tactical team to collar the woman as soon as she left Rolfe’s elegant house.
    Only one question remained. Did Brynn want to arrest Michelle in person?
    The debate raged—oh, how badly she wanted to. But she finally decided no.
    A detective from the Milwaukee Police Department dressed in a Kennesha County Sheriff’s Department uniform and using a department squad car drove to the rendezvous at the Harborside Inn.
    Brynn McKenzie went home.
    The bell rang again—Tom Dahl, ever proper—and Joey let the sheriff back into the house. He was grinningas he stood in the doorway to the family room. “Get this. They’ve got reporters everywhere!” He laughed. “Fox, CBS and I’m not talking the local affiliates. Even CNN. The mayor’s wondering if everybody who works there’s blond.”
    Brynn laughed. “That’s the way they grow ’em in Atlanta.”
    The sheriff continued, “Michelle’s being transported to our lockup tonight. You’ll want to interview her, I assume.”
    “You bet. But not tonight. I told you. I have plans.”
    So, is what I’m about to do now a good idea, or a bad idea? . . . Why even bother to ask the question? It doesn’t matter. I’ve already made the decision.
    She’d done what she needed to capture the Feldmans’ killers; now it was time to begin reassembling her life. Or trying to.
    She rose and walked him to the front door. Stepping outside, he said, “So what’s going on that’s so important?”
    “I’m making dinner for Anna and Joey. And then we’re watching American Idol. ”
    Dahl chuckled. “It’s a rerun. I can tell you who wins.”
    “’Night, Tom. See you in the office bright and early.”

    AT 9 A.M. on a stormy Friday, Michelle Alison Kepler sat in one of the two interrogation rooms in the Kennesha County Sheriff’s Office. Originally for storage, the rooms had been stripped of shelves and boxes and set up with fiberboard tables and plastic chairs, along with a Sony video recorder from Best Buy. One of the deputies had installed a mirror he’d bought at Home Depot but it was for effect only. Any experienced perp could see it wasn’t two-way. But in Kennesha County pinching pennies was part of law enforcing.
    Minus her gun, armed only with pen and paper, Brynn sat down across from Michelle. She looked over at the woman who had lied to her so ruthlessly. Yet Brynn was oddly calm. Sure, she’d felt some sting of betrayal at the deception, thinking that they’d begun that night as survivors, then become allies, and finally friends.
    But Kristen Brynn McKenzie was a cop, of course. She was used to being lied to. She had a goal here, information to gather, and it was time to get to work.
    Michelle, confident as ever, demanded, “Where’s my son and daughter?”
    “They’re being well taken care of.”
    “Brynn, please . . . They need me. They’ll go crazy without me. Really, this is a problem.”
    “You took your son to Milwaukee to help kill me?” Brynn’s voice couldn’t quite hide astonishment.
    Michelle’s face blossomed in horror. “No, no. We were just going to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.”
    “He’s seven. And you took him with you. With a gun.”
    “It’s for protection. Milwaukee’s a dangerous town. I have a permit but I lost it.”
    Brynn nodded, her face neutral. “Okay.”
    “Can I see Brad? He’s miserable without me. He could get sick. He inherited my low blood sugar.”
    “Wasn’t he