‘You think your daughter is in prison because of pressure from Florian Steele?’
‘Let’s say it crossed my mind.’
Altman sighed and opened the center drawer of his desk. He removed a business card and slid it toward Chris with the tip of his index finger. ‘I haven’t had to get new business cards in twenty-six years, Mr. Hawk. That’s how long I’ve sat behind this desk. I’ve seen it all. Meth factories. Mayors selling city contracts for bribes. Environmental fringe groups blowing up power lines. Illegal immigrants locked in semi trailers. Right now, I’ve got the U.S. attorney in Minneapolis telling me he’s got hard evidence of child pornography distribution operating out of my county. Frankly, I’ve got too much on my plate to worry about political pressure.’
‘That’s refreshing, Mr. Altman, but men like Florian Steele know how to get their way. If Florian is convinced that Olivia murdered his daughter, he wouldn’t be shy about demanding action.’
‘As would you if it were your daughter.’
‘I’m not the CEO of Mondamin Research,’ Chris said.
Altman stared at Chris in silence for a long time. ‘I appreciate your situation, Mr. Hawk,’ he replied finally. ‘I would find it hard to imagine one of my children taking someone else’s life. It’s easier to believe she’s being railroaded to satisfy a powerful man like Florian. Unfortunately, I live here, and you don’t. I’ve seen too many sweet young people – people just like your daughter – who have been radicalized by this insane feud. There’s a lot of misguided hatred in this county surrounding Mondamin.’
‘Misguided?’ Chris asked. ‘Five teenagers in St. Croix died of leukemia.’
‘I realize that, but it’s a tragic coincidence.’
‘In a town of four hundred people? That’s a hell of a coincidence.’
‘Honestly, no, it’s not. People shudder when they hear about cancer clusters, but nearly all of them are mathematical anomalies. If you flip a coin a few million times, you’ll land on heads a hundred times in a row at some point. It happens. The loss of those children in St. Croix is devastating, but the families blamed Mondamin because of emotion and speculation, not facts. I’m a lawyer, not an epidemiologist, so I can’t tell you anything about the science involved. All I can tell you is that an independent special master found no evidence of any link between Mondamin Research and the deaths of those young people in St. Croix.’
‘You’re a lawyer. You know a lack of evidence doesn’t mean there’s no link.’
Altman stared at the ceiling. ‘Yes, I get it, Mr. Hawk, I do. People are naturally suspicious. I don’t know exactly what goes on behind the walls at that company. However, one of the largest agri-businesses in the world acquired Mondamin last year, so they must be doing something right. I gather they snip at DNA strands and create new strains of seeds and pesticides. Genetically modified organisms. Nanoparticles. If you believe the hype, they’re part of a revolution that will wipe out world hunger. If you believe the environmentalists, they’re monsters fiddling with things they don’t understand, creating mutants that will kill all of us. Take your pick. Whatever you believe, the hard truth is that the families of St. Croix lost in court. They chose not to let it end there. Ever since the judge threw out the litigation, I’ve had to deal with terroristic violence from teenagers in both towns. Shootings, fire bombings, animals tortured.’
‘Olivia wasn’t involved in any of that.’
‘Not as far as I know, that’s true. On the other hand, your daughter has been a vocal critic of Mondamin at the local high school.’
‘Free speech isn’t a crime,’ Chris said.
‘No, but carrying a gun without a permit is a crime. Murder is a crime. I knew Ashlynn Steele, Mr. Hawk. I used to see her at church every Sunday. Regardless of what you may think about Florian, she was a beautiful, intelligent young woman. I will see she gets justice. I would do that for any man’s daughter.’
‘Sometimes children pay for the sins of the father,’ Chris said.
‘Meaning what?’
‘
The county attorney carefully adjusted his black glasses, then steepled his fingers in front of his chin. ‘I see you’ve been reading the newspaper.’
Chris nodded.
‘Yes, we’re investigating this man who calls himself Aquarius,’ Altman said, ‘but we don’t know if he represents any actual threat.’
‘Whoever he is, he obviously has a bitter grudge against Florian.’
‘So what are you suggesting? Aquarius followed Florian’s daughter and killed her?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he did. Can you rule it out?’
Altman shook his head. ‘Mr. Hawk, I know you want to help your daughter, but you can best do that by focusing on your legal strategy, not by putting on rose-colored glasses about her innocence. Right now, a good lawyer would be thinking about ways to make a jury sympathize with what she did, not dreaming up farfetched conspiracy theories.’
‘Olivia didn’t do it,’ Chris said.
Altman spread his hands in resignation. ‘Fine. It’s your call.’
‘I’d like to review everything the police have gathered so far in this case. Is that going to be a problem?’
‘No, I’ll make sure we get copies in your hands promptly.’ Altman added, ‘Perhaps that will open your eyes.’
Chris ignored the jab. ‘There’s a detention hearing tomorrow morning. Where do you stand on that?’
‘I have to oppose, even though I’m not likely to win. Olivia doesn’t have a criminal history, but there’s a real threat of more violence if she’s released.’
‘She’s not going to harm anyone, Mr. Altman,’ Chris said. ‘You know that.’
‘Actually, I’m thinking of her own safety. You should be, too.’
‘What do you mean?’
Michael Altman frowned. ‘I mean, if she’s free, she’s in danger. That’s the reality in this county right now, Mr. Hawk. The safest place for your daughter may be in jail.’
4
Chris had last visited the town of St. Croix four years earlier, when Hannah’s mother passed away at the age of seventy-two. He thought of it as a place where kids were born, grew up, moved away, and never came back. The old-timers were the only people who stayed, living out long lives among the harsh Minnesota seasons and eventually emptying the town one by one. As the years passed, the population of the church cemetery outpaced the houses and farms.
They were dying faster in St. Croix now. Faster and younger.
He drove south on the highway out of Barron, tracking the banks of the Spirit River. Five miles later, the road turned east and followed a narrow stream for several more miles before heading south again toward Iowa. It was easy to miss St. Croix along the highway. Several miles from the split at the river, the speed limit dropped to thirty miles an hour, and he turned left into the tic-tac-toe grid of town streets. He could see the white bell tower of the Lutheran church jutting above the roofs of the houses. The wide blocks were empty. It was dusk, and the four hundred residents of St. Croix were saying grace and eating dinner.
His ex-wife’s maiden name was Grohman. Hannah Grohman, daughter of Josephine and Cornelius Grohman. She’d kept the name Hawk after the divorce, because she said it fit her personality better. That was true. Hannah had keen eyes for trouble, and she dove into situations without fear and with wicked strength. To her neighbors, though, she was Hannah Grohman, living in the house where she’d been born. She was a hero in St. Croix, because she had returned home after years away. She’d rejected the city and gone back to the country. She’d brought her daughter with her. No one did that.
Chris parked outside the Grohman home at an intersection immediately across the street from the church. He saw lights inside the two-story house and caught a glimpse of someone moving behind the curtains. He recognized her silhouette, and his heart seized. It was too early to go inside. Too early to see her.
He got out of the car and took big strides into the middle of the lawn, which was muddy from rain. Lots were large here; there was plenty of space. Trees were spread far apart, casting large pools of shade and leaving other
