“Mrs. Stoner, why didn’t you tell any of this to the police when Rachel first disappeared?” Dan asked.
“I tried to tell myself it was impossible that Graeme could be involved. I was fooling myself, as if the things I had seen didn’t mean anything. And I guess it was too humiliating to think that something so horrible was going on under my nose and I never saw any of it.”
Gale objected again and was sustained again. But Dan had made his point. He was ready to wrap up.
“We know you had a difficult time with your daughter. After all that happened between you, did you still love her?”
Passion flowed into Emily’s face. It was the first time that Stride could recall seeing any life at all in her tired eyes. “Of course! I loved her with my whole soul. I still do. I know how much pain she went through, and I would have done anything to reach her. I never could. It tore me up inside. It will always be the greatest regret of my life, that I couldn’t find a way to mend the gap between us.”
Dan smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Stoner.”
25
Stride assumed Gale would treat the mother of the victim with kid gloves. He was wrong. There wasn’t a hint of sympathy in Gale’s demeanor.
“The fact is, Mrs. Stoner, your relationship with your daughter was awful, wasn’t it?” Gale began.
“It wasn’t very good. That’s what I said.”
Gale snorted. “Not very good? Rachel regularly said she hated you, didn’t she?”
“Well—she said that a few times.”
“She regularly called you a bitch,” Gale said.
“Sometimes.”
“She would destroy things you owned, personal things, just for the hell of it.”
“Sometimes.”
“She would do despicable things for the sole purpose of hurting you?”
Emily nodded. “That’s true.” Then she lobbed an angry missile: “Like having sex with my husband.”
“Or like running away and leaving your life and your marriage in ruins?” Gale demanded.
“She didn’t do that.”
Gale threw his beefy arms in the air. “How do you know? Wasn’t she bright enough and devious enough to have staged all of this?”
“Objection,” Dan said.
Gale shrugged. “I’ll withdraw it. Mrs. Stoner, by your own admission, you didn’t tell anyone about these so-called suspicions until after the police told you your husband was a suspect, is that right?”
“I was in denial,” Emily said.
“Denial? The truth is, you really didn’t think they were having an affair, did you?”
“Not then, no.”
“And the only reason you think so now is because it seems to fit with Mr. Erickson’s little mystery story, isn’t that right?”
“No. That isn’t true.”
“Isn’t it?” Gale asked, his voice dripping with disbelief. “Everything you’ve told us, it’s all about you and Rachel, isn’t it? Not about Graeme. It was about Rachel playing games with you. Tormenting you. Trying to hurt you.”
“It was difficult,” Emily said.
“So difficult you beat up your own daughter once, didn’t you?”
Emily cringed. She began to withdraw, staring into her lap. “Yes,” she murmured.
“Speak up! You were angry, and you beat the hell out of her, didn’t you?”
“It was just once.”
Gale shook his head. “Oh, so you only abused your daughter once. That’s all right, is it?”
“No! I’m so sorry!”
“Your daughter pushed you until you viciously assaulted her, right?”
Dan stood up. “Mr. Gale is badgering the witness, Your Honor.”
The judge nodded. “Back off, Mr. Gale.”
Gale changed direction. “If she pushed you far enough, you’d do it again, wouldn’t you?”
“No.”
Gale lowered his voice and continued with a wicked calm. “In fact, weren’t you the one with the motive to kill Rachel?”
Emily’s eyes flew open. “No!”
“No? After she humiliated you for years?”
“I would never hurt her.”
“You just told us you did.”
“That was a long time ago,” Emily pleaded. “It happened once and never happened again.”
“Didn’t it?” Gale asked. “Didn’t you finally have it out with Rachel once and for all on that last weekend?”
“No—no, of course not! I wasn’t even there!”
Gale was patient. “Where were you?”
“With my sister in St. Louis.”
“On Friday night?” Gale asked. “The night Rachel disappeared?”
“Yes.”
Alarm bells began to go off in Stride’s head.
“But not on Saturday,” Gale said. “You weren’t in St. Louis on Saturday night, were you?”
Emily shook her head. “No. I stayed at a hotel in the Cities. I was tired. I had been driving all day.”
“Where did you stay?” Gale asked.
“I don’t remember. Somewhere on the Bloomington strip.”
“Could it have been the Airport Lakes Hotel?”
“Possibly. I really don’t remember.”
Gale retrieved a piece of paper from the counsel’s table. “In fact, isn’t this a copy of your receipt from the Airport Lakes Hotel in Bloomington for that weekend?”
Emily paled. “Yes.”
“Well, then,” Gale said, frowning. “We have a problem, don’t we?”
Emily was silent.
Gale held up the paper. “Because this receipt shows you checking in on Friday night, not Saturday, doesn’t it?”
Stride murmured, “Son of a bitch.”
Maggie leaned over and whispered, “Goddamn it, the sister covered for her. She swore Emily was there on Friday night.”
In the witness stand, Emily hadn’t spoken. Gale spread his arms, the receipt held high in his left hand. “Well, Mrs. Stoner?”
“It must be a mistake,” Emily said in a ghastly voice.
“A mistake?” Gale was scornful. “They billed you for two nights, and you didn’t notice? Shall we call the desk clerk who checked you in?”
Emily’s eyes darted frantically, looking for cover. As Stride watched, she seemed to look repeatedly in one place, at the man seated a few feet down the row. At Dayton Tenby.
Stride glanced at the minister and saw a look of panic in Dayton’s eyes, too.
Emily crumbled. “All right, yes, I was there on Friday night. I did some shopping at the Mall of America on Saturday. Graeme wouldn’t have liked it, and that’s why I lied. It didn’t seem like a big thing.”
“How convenient,” Gale said. “But the fact is, you could easily have driven to Duluth and back on that Friday night, couldn’t you?”
“I didn’t do that,” Emily insisted.
“You check in, you head north. You would have arrived just after ten, right? Just when Rachel was getting home?”
“No. That’s not what happened.”
Gale smiled. “No? Tell us, Mrs. Stoner, what did Rachel do that night? What did she say? Did she push one button too many?”
“No, no, no.”
Dayton Tenby leaned forward, and Stride saw him whispering furiously to Dan.
“You knew about the barn, right?” Gale persisted.
Emily didn’t answer.
“I need a yes or no. Did you know what the barn was and where it was?”
“Yes.”
“You’d been there yourself, hadn’t you?”
“Not in years.”
“But you had been there? You knew all about it?”
“Yes.” Her voice was a lifeless echo.
“You had the real motive and opportunity to kill Rachel, didn’t you? You had a history of violence toward her. She treated you like dirt.”
Emily stared at him. “I didn’t kill my daughter.”
“You lied to the police. You lied to your husband. You li
ed to the jury. How do we know you’re not lying now?”
Tears rolled in streaks down Emily’s face. “I’m not lying.”
Gale shrugged.
“That’s all, Mrs. Stoner. I have nothing further.”
Dan stood up on redirect.
“Mrs. Stoner, tell us again what you were doing on Friday night, when you claimed you were at your sister’s house.”
“I was shopping,” Emily repeated.
Dan caught Emily’s reluctant eyes. His voice softened. “You can’t hide it anymore. It’s time for the truth to come out. Now please, tell us. Where were you on Friday night?”
Stride saw Emily stare, stricken, at Tenby. He saw the minister nod his head gently. Emily took a deep breath and turned to the jury. She seemed composed again.
“I was at the hotel in Bloomington, just like the receipt says. I was having an affair. I didn’t want my husband or anyone in the community finding out.”
Dan nodded. “Who were you seeing in Minneapolis?”
“It was—I mean, I was meeting—Dayton. Dayton Tenby. He’s been my pastor for years.” Her words galloped out of her mouth as she tried to explain. “We didn’t meet with the intention of having an affair. He was in Minneapolis for a conference. I wanted to talk to him, so I came back early. We had dinner, and then, well, one thing just led to another. We ended up spending the weekend together. It was beautiful. But I felt guilty and ashamed, and I didn’t want to endanger Dayton’s career. Even though it was my fault, I knew he could be hurt.”
“Were you with him the whole time?” Dan asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you have any opportunity to sneak up to Duluth?”
Emily shook her head. “Of course not. That’s ridiculous. There’s only one person who was at home with Rachel that night. And that’s Graeme.”
26
“I watched the news tonight,” Andrea said, taking a large swallow from a glass of Chardonnay, which they were gulping like cold beer. “You know how they are, all the experts handicapping who’s winning and who’s losing. But this time, they didn’t sound like they knew. Even Bird wasn’t ready to call the trial one way or another.”
“Nice to know something can render Bird speechless,” Stride said.
“What does Dan think?” Andrea asked.
“He thinks we’re winning.”
“What do you think Gale thinks?”
“I think he thinks he’s winning.”
“So who’s winning?”
Stride laughed. “Us, I think. Then again, I’m an optimist.”
Andrea, who was already more than a little drunk, shook her head. “An optimist? You? I don’t think so.”
“Even better. We must really be winning, then.”
“Does Maggie think so, too?”
“Maggie?” Stride asked. “Maggie hates Dan so much, I think she would be content to have Stoner go free just to have Dan fall on his ass. However, she calls it a draw so far, and she’s probably right.”
Andrea was silent. Then she said, “I don’t think Maggie likes me too much.”
Stride shrugged. “I’ve told you about Maggie. I think she still cares about me and won’t admit it. She’s probably a little jealous. This is about her, not you.”
“She doesn’t think I’m right for you.”
“Did she say that?”
“No,” Andrea said. “Women just know these things.”
“Well, let’s leave us to worry about us, and Maggie can worry about Maggie. Okay?”
Andrea nodded. She finished her glass of wine and poured the dregs of the bottle into both of their glasses, spilling a few drops on the glass coffee table. She rubbed it off with her finger, then licked her fingertip.
Stride sat next to her in the living room. The picture window, opposite the sofa, exposed a view of the city below them and the lake, darkening in the twilight. He had changed into a short-sleeved green polo shirt and old jeans. Andrea reached over, touching the thick scar on his upper arm.
“You’ve never told me about the bullet, you know,” she said.
“It was years ago.”
“So tell me,” Andrea urged him.
“It was a suicide attempt,” he said. “I was a lousy shot.”
“Jon-a-than,” she said, drawing out the syllables in exasperation. “Don’t you ever give your morbid humor a rest?”
He smiled. “Okay, it was a hunting accident.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, I hunted something that hunted me back.”
“You’re impossible. Come on, I really want to know. Please tell me.”
Stride sighed. It wasn’t a part of his life he enjoyed dredging up, because he had spent a year unliving it with Cindy and a therapist.
“A few years ago, I ended up in the middle of a domestic dispute. We used to own a cabin west of Ely, and the couple that owned the place near us—well, the husband basically flipped out. He was a very good friend of mine. We were close. But he was a fragile guy, a veteran, and he lost his job and his marbles all at once. His wife called me one evening, told me he was waving a gun around, threatening to kill her and kill the kids. I knew him, knew he was serious. But I didn’t call for backup, because I thought that was a good way for a lot of people to end up dead, him included. Instead, I went to talk to him.”
“What happened?”
“I got inside, and he pointed a revolver with a six-inch barrel at me. Biggest fucking gun you’ve ever seen, right in front of my face. Seems he didn’t want to talk. Well, I talked anyway. I was getting through to him, too, or so I thought. I got him to let the kids go outside. A few minutes later, I got him to let his wife go outside, although she didn’t want to go. So it was just him and me. I really thought I was home free. My only challenge was to make sure he didn’t kill himself. But I guess I underestimated him. He pointed the gun at his head, and I shouted at him. I started forward, hands up, trying to make him stop, to put the gun down. Instead, he pointed the gun right at my chest and pulled the trigger, just like that, no warning. I was already diving. The bullet sliced through my shoulder, spun me around, threw me to the floor. And then, with that little interruption out of the way, he put the gun in his mouth and blew out the back of his head with me screaming at him.”
Andrea caressed his face. “I don’t know what to say.”
“See what happens when you get me drunk?” Stride said. “You get me to say things that upset you.”
“My fault. I pushed. But I’m glad you told me.”
“Well, enough of that, okay? Do you want to open another bottle?”
Andrea shook her head. “I’ve got to go to school tomorrow, remember? I don’t think the kids would appreciate me having a hangover.”
“So how come we didn’t date in high school?” he asked. It was the kind of question driven by several glasses of wine.
“I think it’s because you had already graduated by the time I was a freshman,” Andrea said.
“Oh, yeah. Just as well. I bet you wouldn’t have given me a second glance.”
Andrea shook her head. “I would have given you a second glance and a third glance.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Stride said. “I was one of those intense, brooding loners. And you—you were a cheerleader, I bet, and in all the clubs, and with lots of boyfriends.”
Andrea grinned. “Cheerleader, yes. Science club, yes. Boyfriends, no.”
“Come on.”
“Seriously! I got asked out all the time, but it usually didn’t go beyond a first date.” She cupped her breasts. “Once they figured out they weren’t going to get their hands on these, they lost interest.”
“Well, it is kind of like blowing out the birthday candles and not eating the cake,” Stride said.
“Oh, don’t pull that typical guy crap on me. I’m sure you were a perfect gentleman in high school.”
Stride laughed. “There’s no such thing as a sixteen-year-old gentleman.”
“Anyway, you
were lucky in high school,” Andrea said. “You found your soul mate. You met Cindy during your senior year, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And that was that, wasn’t it?” she asked.
Stride smiled wistfully. “Yes, that was that. I was hooked. Love at first sight. It really was that fast.”
She snuggled closer to him on the sofa, clutching his arm. Her cat, who was sleeping on Stride’s lap, looked up, offended by the interruption.
“What was it about Cindy?” Andrea asked softly.
Stride stared into the distance, where he could still picture Cindy in his mind. Over time, the picture had lost a little focus. It wasn’t a close-up anymore. It was a portrait, getting farther away.
“She wouldn’t let me be a loner,” he said. “She teased me and poked holes in all my defenses. And she was the most spiritual person I ever met. Not so much religious, but spiritual. She helped me see the things I loved, the lake, the woods, in a new light. Once I saw it through her, none of it was the same. It was better.”
He looked down at the cat, which was sleeping again, unimpressed with his memories. He looked over at Andrea, still nestled against his shoulder.
She was crying.
The next morning, Dan called Kevin Lowry to the stand.
Kevin made a perfect witness, a strapping, clean-cut teenager, looking slightly uncomfortable in his white shirt and tie. He shifted and squirmed to fit his husky body into the witness stand. His eyes darted around the courtroom, nervously studying the jury and then making eye contact with Emily Stoner. He gave her a small smile of support, but Emily didn’t react.
Dan quickly covered the early days of Kevin’s relationship with Rachel and then moved on to Graeme.
“Kevin, we’ve heard testimony that Rachel’s relationship with Graeme changed abruptly. They were close, and then they weren’t. Is that what you observed?”
Kevin nodded. “Oh, yeah. Big time. About two years ago, Rachel did a turnaround. She wouldn’t go near Mr. Stoner anymore. She told me she hated him.”
“Did she say why?”
“No. I asked her about it once, and she said—well, she called him something pretty harsh.”
“What did she call him, Kevin?”
Kevin looked uncomfortable. “She said he was a fucking pervert.”
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