Chapter 11

The following day we cleaned up the house and put away our presents. Dad and Mom had given us each a pair of snowmobile boots, which are very good for snowy climates. Ryan had given us perfume, and Travis had added three books to our library.

The days between Christmas and the New Year were dull and dreary. It wasn't snowing, but the sky was overcast and gray and the wind was blowing. There was little activity for us and no reason to be outside. Even the crooks were taking a break from the weather.

New Year's Eve fell on a Friday, and by prior arrangement we took the Thursday off. Lois and Amy had covered for us over Christmas, and we would cover for them in return.

We let ourselves into the dungeon Friday morning about 7:00 am. I turned on the lights while Connie made a pot of coffee. The computers were running, requiring only the slight move of a mouse to make them come alive.

We spent the morning and most of the afternoon using the computers to confirm the paper files. It was dull, boring work, and by three o'clock I'd had enough.

Connie must have thought the same, because she said, "Let's go somewhere. This place is giving me the creeps."

We ate at Denny's, fortifying ourselves for the night to come. After checking with Dispatch over the phone, we decided to cruise the streets.

By nine-thirty that evening, we'd been on every street in town. The neighborhoods were quiet, with very few people out and about. We got one call about a possible homeless teen, but after searching the area for him for over an hour, we gave up. There were simply too many places for him to hide.

About ten, Connie asked, "You wanna get a beer? We could go to Sulli's and watch all the drunks dance."

I laughed. "I'd rather have hot chocolate or coffee."

"Done," she said, and did a U-turn, heading for Sulli's.

We sat in the corner by the end of the bar, sipping hot chocolate and eyeing the crowd. Most were younger and well on their way to a good hangover by morning. The music was loud, the crowd was happy and all was right with the world. Me, I wanted some more sleep.

I nudged Connie, pointing to the other side of the room, and said, "There's Clarissa, near the dance floor. "

"Mmm. Wonder what she wants?"

It didn't take us long to find out. Clarissa saw Connie and made a beeline straight for us.

"Hello, Connie. Long time no see," Clarissa said.

I hated the woman's voice; imagine syrup poured over brimstone, with a hint of fingernails on a chalkboard. Loathsome. Hard on the ears, too.

"Hi, Clarissa. What brings you out in this weather?" Connie asked.

She leaned closer and said, "We're having a party tonight. D'you want to come?"

Connie said, "I'm sure Sue appreciates you stealing all her customers."

Clarissa smirked and laughed. "She'll never know unless you tell her, dearie."

"We have to stay in the city tonight, but thanks anyway," Connie said.

"Okay then, ta-ta!" Clarissa exclaimed. "Time is short. Gotta run!"

After she left with a small crowd of people following her, Connie said, "Looks like the old bat is going to get some young pussy tonight."

"Yeah, she might," I replied.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. We watched the ball drop on TV and shared a kiss. I wanted something else, but we were in public. The crowd thinned out, and about 1:00 am we headed home.

Saturday and Sunday we stayed home, sober and ready for a call. We made a few of our own, just to make sure the phones were working, but received nothing. I made hamburgers and cole slaw for supper, and we ate the last of the leftover turkey. We called it a night about ten and went to bed. I thought of it as the most boring New Year's Eve I'd ever experienced.

Monday morning about nine, the boredom lifted. Terri called us into her office and had us take a seat. Lois was in the corner with a thick folder in her hand.

Terri said, "We've got some new information on David Prentice. Lois, why don't you start?"

Lois opened the folder and began reading. "Here's what we know so far. David and his wife registered with Social Services as a foster-care couple about four years ago. They've fostered nine kids for short periods, ranging from two months to a year. They currently have two; Sarah Burnes, aged twelve, and Donna Sorensen, aged thirteen."

"We know about Sarah," I said, "and she's told us a little bit about Donna."

Lois continued, "His bank records show he makes good money, but he's got very little to show for it. The house he lives in was appraised at just over seventy thousand, and all his vehicles are at least four years old. All his credit cards are maxed out, and he owes a bank in Grand Forks almost a hundred thousand dollars."

Connie asked, "Materials and tools, maybe? Or did one of his contracts go belly-up?"

Lois replied, "Not that I can find. His utilities have been turned off for non-payment three times in the last three years; electricity once and his phone twice."

"What is it, then? I asked.

"I suspect gambling, but I can't be sure. There are regular deposits in thousands of dollars, but a few days later it's gone. I can't trace it as payments to a credit card or mortgage. His balance in Grand Forks hasn't changed a cent in the last six months."

Terri asked, "What does he get from the state for the kids?"

"A little over two hundred dollars a month for each child. On his salary, that's a drop in the bucket," Lois said.

A thoughtful silence ensued. Foster parents had to provide for a certain level of care for their charges; food, clothing, adequate shelter and medical care. Prospective foster parents had to prove they were capable of providing such care, or their certification would be denied. Major Medical Insurance in case of injury or catastrophic disease was handled by the State. David and Malva Prentice had been certified; had somebody made a big mistake? It wouldn't be the first time.

Terri spread her hands on her desk and said, "Okay. We have suspicions, but no proof. Lois, please continue with the money trail. For all we know, he's got medical bills from the past. Connie, you and Shirley keep an eye on him; drop in at a job site or something. I'll have Social Services make an unannounced visit to the home and see what we can find."

As we went back to our desks, Lois handed Connie a sheet of paper. "There was one payment two months ago that might be worth learning more about. $9500.00 went to a church called the Apostolic Brethren. It's on the south side of town, near the trailer court."

Connie took the paper and said, "We'll check it out."

That afternoon we took two kids to the shelter. The live-in boyfriend decided he'd be better off without a job, and the girlfriend ragged on him a little. He beat the hell out of her, breaking several bones in her face and elsewhere. Since he was on probation for the very same thing—with the very same woman—the cops took him to jail and we took the kids. She would be in the hospital for the foreseeable future.

We also checked out the Church of the Apostolic Brethren. It was located in a dingy strip mall down on South 16^th Street, near the Salvation Army soup kitchen. Pastor Brimley was a smarmy sort, unwilling or unable to answer any questions about his parishioners. He dressed like a used-car salesman, and looked about as trustworthy. I didn't like him, and I let it show. He provided no usable information at all.

Toward the end of the week, it started to snow. Temperatures hovered near 25º F, and the snow kept falling. On Saturday, the wind started up and driving conditions became impossible. By Sunday evening, the drifts next to the house were ten to twelve feet deep, and my Blazer was invisible. Interstate 94 was closed from Bismarck to Fargo, and hourly weather bulletins advised no travel except in extreme emergency. It got down to—19º F, with winds of up to sixty and seventy miles an hour. I don't even want to guess at the wind chill.

Some lines went down somewhere, and we lost power. We built a fire in the fireplace and lit a propane lantern for light. Huddled in blankets and warm sweaters, we did crosswords by the hour. We warmed cans of soup and chili on a Coleman stove out in the garage, and I attempted hamburgers once. The rest of our diet was crackers, cookies, chips and all things sweet and tasty. We attempted to eat the food in the fridge before it went bad. I think I gained five pounds.

Lovemaking was put on temporary hold; it's awfully hard to kiss someone when your teeth are chattering. We did light the burners of the stove, but without electricity the oven wouldn't work. It had electronic ignition, an energy-saving feature. The furnace wouldn't work either; it also had electronic ignition. Ain't technology wonderful?

We could flush the toilet—we had city water—but without electricity, the water heater was just another useless lump of metal in the house. The phones were the only things that kept us sane. Charging batteries for the cell phones was an annoyance; we had to open the side door of the garage and start the car, then plug them into the cigarette lighter. We ran out of beer early on and had to switch to soda. When that was gone, we tried cowboy coffee. We didn't own a regular coffeepot, so we boiled water in a two-quart Dutch oven and threw in a handful of grounds. It took me a week to get the residue out of my teeth.

Late in the week it stopped snowing, and a few hours later a Sno-Cat—that's a four-ton snowmobile with a 12-cylinder diesel engine and tracks like a bulldozer— came by and gave us emergency supplies. I was never so glad to see a carton of milk in my life!