The Burying Place

by Brian Freeman

  'Somebody took it,' she concluded. 'I'm starting to get a bad feeling, boss.'

  He noticed the way she dropped into her old habit, calling him 'boss' the way she usually did.

  'It could be a simple break-in,' he said, 'or maybe we're not talking about a hiking accident after all.'

  'I'll get a forensics team out here.'

  He heard Maggie's cell phone ringing. When she dug it out of her pocket, she shot him an uncomfortable look. 'It's Serena,' she said.

  Stride's gut turned over.

  'Hey,' Maggie said, answering the call with a casualness that sounded false to Stride. She listened and then said, 'Yeah, sure, fine. Yeah, he's with me, I'll tell him. We'll see you in a few hours.'

  She hung up. Stride raised his eyebrows.

  'Serena's in Duluth,' Maggie told him. 'She wants to grab a pizza at Sammy's later.'

  Stride closed his eyes. 'Shit.'

  'I'll bring Kasey along,' Maggie suggested. 'That might make things a little less awkward.'

  Stride nodded.

  'I'm not going to say anything,' she added. When he was silent, she tried to read his face. 'I'm giving you an out, you know that, right? A free pass. Just say it was a mistake.'

  That was the easy thing to do. For both of them. Add it to the list of secret regrets you keep in your life.

  'I can't say that,' he told her. 'I don't know if it was a mistake.'

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Serena staked out a booth at Sammy's Pizza on Tuesday evening. She had her head down, reviewing emails about Callie, when Stride and Maggie arrived. She looked up as Maggie slid into the booth across from her, and when she saw Maggie's hair, she dropped her BlackBerry into the basket of garlic toast.

  'Holy shit.'

  Maggie winked. 'What, is something different?'

  'Wow.'

  'Good wow or bad wow?'

  'Sexy wow,' Serena said.

  Serena knew that Maggie was one of those women who bad- mouthed her own looks with sarcastic put-downs. But not tonight. Her streaky crimson hair made her look like a New York model. On any other day, Serena would have been happy for her, but she found herself resenting Maggie's transformation. She wasn't feeling particularly attractive herself, and the change in Maggie made her feel worse.

  Stride sat next to Serena and kissed her cheek. She saw Maggie's eyes flick between the two of them, watching the obvious tension. 'Hi.'

  A young police officer with hair as shock red as Maggie's stood awkwardly beside the table.

  'Serena, this is Kasey,' Maggie said.

  'Yeah, I heard about you,' Serena told her. 'You showed some real guts out there.'

  Kasey's face cracked into an uneasy smile. She sat stiffly next to Maggie, as if she was at attention.

  'You doing OK?' Maggie asked her.

  'I'm freaked out,' Kasey admitted.

  'Do you want me to get someone to stay with you tonight? You guys might feel better if you weren't alone.'

  Kasey shook her head. 'We'll be fine. Bruce has got the house locked up like a prison.'

  The waitress laid a steaming, sixteen-inch pizza on an aluminum tray between them. Sausage meatballs and red discs of pepperoni dotted the pie in neat rows. Silently, they nudged apart several squares and pulled them on to each of their plates.

  'Is there anything new on Callie?' Maggie asked, pursing her lips and blowing on a piece of pizza to cool it.

  'I think that Regan Conrad knows more than she's telling me,' Serena said.

  'I'm sorry, who?' Kasey asked.

  'Regan's a nurse who was having an affair with Marcus Glenn,' Serena explained. 'She had a key to their house, and she knows the layout. She also has a prior relationship with Migdalia Vega, who was in the house when Callie disappeared. That's a lot of connections.'

  'So what do you want to do?' Stride asked.

  'Get a search warrant.'

  'I'm not sure we've got probable cause,' he said.

  'She told Valerie Glenn she knew what happened to Callie,' Serena insisted. 'Plus, I heard a baby when I was at her house on Saturday.'

  'You really think Callie is there with Regan?' Maggie asked dubiously.

  'If I said yes, I think a judge might give me a warrant.'

  Stride frowned. 'Maybe.'

  Serena popped a piece of pizza in her mouth. She tried to decipher the odd dynamic among the three of them. She and Stride were already acting like strangers, but even Stride and Maggie seemed to be avoiding each other. She told herself that it was a virus, starting in Stride's head, spreading to herself, and now infecting Maggie, too. Kasey looked uncomfortable being with them. The young cop pushed around the pizza on her plate and barely ate a thing. She had nervous, darting eyes, like a sparrow hopping on the lawn, aware that a cat might be ready to pounce.

  Beside her, Stride checked his watch. 'The news is on.'

  He slid out of the booth. A television was suspended on a stand in the corner of the restaurant twenty feet away. He turned it on and flipped through the channels until he found a summary of current news. They didn't have to wait long for the hot story of the week. When the network cut away to a live feed of Blair Rowe in front of the county office building in Grand Rapids, Stride turned up the volume. Serena could hear it from the table.

  '… a new twist in the disappearance of Callie Glenn,' Blair reported with high-pitched excitement, adjusting her black glasses on her nose. 'As you know, we've learned disturbing facts about Callie's father, Marcus Glenn, in the days since this little girl vanished. However, tonight the buzz in Grand Rapids is not about Marcus Glenn, but about Callie's mother, Valerie. She's been the beautiful, tragic figure in this story, pleading for the return of her daughter and insisting that her husband is innocent. The police have pointedly raised no suspicions in this case about Valerie herself, perhaps in part because her sister is a senior member of the Sheriff's Department. When we come back, however, I'll take a closer look at Valerie Glenn and her history of mental illness. I'll also share startling new information that may well prove to be the missing motive that police have needed in their investigation of Marcus Glenn.'

  The station went to commercial.

  'Valerie's history of mental illness?' Serena exclaimed. 'What is this bitch trying to do to her?'

  Stride returned to the table. 'Did Valerie give you any hints about this so-called secret?'

  Serena shook her head. 'She didn't say a thing.' But she thought about Regan: If you know why, you'll know everything.

  Stride's phone rang. He took it out and checked the caller ID. 'Good news travels fast,' he said. 'It's Denise. I better take this.'

  He headed for the door, leaving the three women alone.

  Serena kept an eye on the television. With Stride gone, Maggie fidgeted. It was as if the virus had spread between the two of them, too. Their friendship felt strained.

  'I should go,' Kasey announced during the lull in the conversation. 'I don't want Bruce to worry.'

  'You sure you don't want a cop in the house tonight?' Maggie asked. 'I can have somebody there in an hour.'

  'No, thanks.'

  'OK, I'll see you tomorrow.'

  Kasey hesitated and looked down. 'I, uh, I don't know about tomorrow.'

  'If you need a day, take a day,' Maggie said.

  'Yeah, well, here's the thing. I'm going to quit.'

  'You mean quit the force?'

  Kasey nodded. 'After what happened last night, Bruce and I think that would be best. You know, get away, start over. Go someplace where this guy won't find me.'

  'I don't want to lose you, Kasey,' Maggie replied, 'but I wouldn't blame you if you decided to go.'

  'It would be different if it was just me, but I have to think about my family.'

  'Of course.'

  'Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow.'

  'Sure.'

  Kasey stood up. Serena watched her red curls bounce as she left the restaurant using quick, determined steps. The young c
op pushed through the door, turned right on First Street, and disappeared.

  'What would you do in her shoes?' Serena asked.

  'I'd probably run like hell, too.'

  Maggie still didn't look at Serena.

  'What's going on with you?' Serena asked. 'Is something wrong?'

  'Nah, just the usual,' Maggie replied.

  'Did Jonny tell you anything today?'

  'Like what?'

  'Like what's bothering him.'

  'No, he clammed up,' she said.

  Serena studied Maggie's face and realized to her dismay that she didn't believe her. 'He said nothing?' she asked.

  'No, sorry.'

  Serena leaned across the table. 'I could really use your help. I need to know what the hell is going on with him.'

  'I shouldn't get in the middle of this,' Maggie told her.

  'I think you already are.'

  'What do you want from me, Serena?'

  'The truth.'

  'You can't handle the truth,' she said in a Jack Nicholson voice.

  'Don't joke,' Serena said.

  'I'm sure he'll tell you when he's ready.'

  'Tell me what?'

  'Whatever's bothering him.'

  'You sound like you already know what that is,' Serena said.

  'Oh, fuck, can't you leave me out of this?' Maggie snapped, startling her. 'He's your lover. I'm just the third wheel since you two shacked up. Talk to him, not me, will you?'

  Serena stood up. She found herself blinking back tears. 'Fine.'

  'I'm sorry,' Maggie said.

  Serena said nothing.

  'Panic attacks, OK?' Maggie said.

  Serena looked down at her. 'What?'

  'Ever since the fall, Stride's been having panic attacks. Flashbacks.'

  'He told you that?' she asked.

  Maggie nodded. 'I think it's PTSD. He needs help.'

  Serena wondered why she hadn't recognized it herself. It made sense to her now, hearing Maggie describe it.

  'I didn't say anything to you about this,' Maggie said. 'All right?'

  She nodded. 'Yeah.'

  Serena thought about Jonny watching his life come apart at the seams, and she felt guilty that she'd been unable to help him through it. Because he hadn't said a word to her about his pain. Instead, he had bared his soul to Maggie.

  She'd thought that knowing the truth would make her feel better, but it didn't. Maggie and Jack Nicholson were both right. She couldn't handle it.

  'Denise,' Stride said into the phone outside the restaurant.

  'Are you watching the news?' she asked.

  'Yeah.'

  'Blair fucking Rowe,' Denise said.

  'It looks like she has her sights set on Valerie now.'

  'Yeah, my angel of a sister.'

  'Do you know what this big secret is?' Stride asked.

  Denise's voice was flat. Her emotions had drained out of her like oil from her car. 'Yeah. I know.'

  'So what is it? Does it affect the case?'

  'I have no idea. As far as I'm concerned, I don't care what happens to my sister anymore.'

  'What's going on, Denise? What did Blair find out about Valerie?'

  'Keep watching, and you'll see. Enjoy the show like everybody else. Blair's going to tell the whole world that Valerie was having an affair.'

  Stride had a bad feeling. 'An affair? With whom?'

  'With Tom,' Denise replied. 'Apparently it's not enough for Valerie to have the looks and the money in the family. She had to have my husband, too.'

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty

  Regan Conrad climbed down from her Hummer in the driveway outside her house and thumped the door shut. Behind her; the porch light threw her shadow down across the dormant fields like a giant. She walked a few steps into the open land where the fields began. There, she cocked her head and listened. In the trees, the wind sounded like the roar of a river. Miles away, a train rattled and rumbled south from the Iron Range. She heard a truck's air horn bellowing on the highway. That was all. Nothing else moved or stared back at her. Instead, the wind blew stronger, and the fat, drooping arms of the spruces shook with laughter.

  Under her scrub top, however, bumps of gooseflesh rose on her arms. It wasn't just the cold night. She also had a sensation of eyes in the darkness.

  You're paranoid, she told herself.

  Regan let herself inside her house and turned on the lights. She lingered in the foyer, noticing the closed doors on both levels. Most nights, she didn't give it a thought. It was odd how you could let your mind carry you away, and when you did, every door and dark space felt like a threat. You didn't have to be a child to worry about monsters in the closet.

  She wandered into the kitchen and poured herself a shot glass of Scotch. Before she sat down, she saw the flashing light on her answering machine. Two messages. She punched the play button and downed the shot as she listened.

  The first message was from Marcus Glenn. Poor Marcus. He was upset.

  'Regan, damn it, what are you trying to do to me? What did you tell Valerie? My nurse told me she found you in my office over the weekend. I want to know what you were doing there. We need to talk right now, you crazy bitch. I need to see you. I want to know what in the hell you did.'

  He hung up.

  Her lips curled into a smile. She wondered if he suspected what she had stolen from his files. What a fool he was, cuckolded by that blonde bitch. How could he tolerate that woman in his bed? A woman who barely moved as he made love to her and then had the nerve to give her body to someone else.

  He could have had her, Regan. They could have been together. It was his mistake to choose so badly.

  'How does it feel?' she growled at the machine. 'How do you like having the whole world turn against you? Even your pretty little wife.'

  The second message was time-stamped an hour ago, but the message was blank. Empty. It went on for a full minute with nothing but silence on the machine. Her face twisted with concern as she listened. The longer the dead air stretched out, the more threatening it became.

  She got up and checked the log of callers on the phone. The last call was labeled PRIVATE.

  Regan replayed the message and leaned close to the machine. This time, she realized that she could hear someone breathing in the background. Whoever it was let the call drag out without saying anything, but he or she breathed near the phone, loud enough for Regan to hear it.

  She deleted both messages. Maybe it was Marcus again, playing with her head. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being afraid.

  Regan poured another shot and finished it in one swallow and then went upstairs. She thought about leaving the downstairs lights on, but she told herself that she was overreacting. The house was empty. The doors and windows were locked and secure. In her bedroom, she removed her scrubs and dropped them down the laundry chute to the basement. She brushed her teeth and took a shower and then slid into bed with her body warm and damp.

  She reached out with her right hand. Next to the bed, propped against the wall, was a shotgun. Two cartridges loaded. Pick it up, point, and shoot. She stroked the glossy wooden shaft with her fingers, and she felt better. She reached for the lamp on her nightstand and turned it off, throwing the room into complete darkness. Only the green glow of the clock gave any light.

  She closed her eyes. Moments later, she was dreaming.

  Regan had no idea how much time had passed when she started awake.

  Her eyes flew open. She glanced at the clock, but the face was dark, and the absolute silence of the house told her that the power was out. With the furnace shut down, the bedroom had already grown cold. Her bare arms and shoulders lay above the blanket, chilled. Her dream faded as her mind wrapped itself around the real world again. She stared blindly at the ceiling.

  Regan shivered. Something was wrong.

  The sensation of eyes in the darkness was back, but it was inside now, with her, in the room. She lay frozen, not wanting to dr
aw attention to herself. She thought about closing her eyes again and pretending that everything was fine. Go back to sleep. Dream. It was nothing but her imagination.

  Maybe she was dreaming right now. But she knew she wasn't.

  He's here, she thought.

  Her right hand came alive. Inch by inch, her fingers crept along the edge of the blanket, moving invisibly in the black bedroom. No one could see. Her hand nudged over the side of the bed, and she reached out, hunting for the barrel of the shotgun, ready to yank the gun into her arms. She knew exactly where it was, had measured the distance in the darkness countless times in the last month, had practiced and rehearsed in case this moment ever came.

  The gun was gone. It wasn't there.

  Her heart jumped with panic. She bolted up in bed, not pretending any more. The blanket slipped down. She took open-mouthed breaths, and her chest heaved in fear. She leaned down and felt desperately along the ground with her hands, thinking the gun had slipped to the floor.

  But no. She heard a noise. Someone was in the room, across from her, settled into the armchair, watching her. She eased against the headboard and tried to see. Her eyes grasped for a beam of light, but everything was dark.

  A voice came from across the room. Bitter and intense.

  'Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?'

  She understood. Everything made sense now.

  'You're making a mistake,' Regan said in her calmest voice. 'You don't have to do this.'

  They were sweet, persuasive words, but they didn't work this time. The voice split the silence again.

  'You lied to me.'

  Regan wondered if she had any hope of escape. She had gone to sleep with the bedroom door open, but now, staring at the dark wall, she knew the door was closed. In less than five seconds, she could be out of bed and in the hallway, and from there, she had a chance. She searched for the right moment to run.

  There was no time.

  Regan heard the noise of someone shifting in the chair. Getting up. The wood and metal of the gun moved.

  She threw back the cover and sprinted for the door, but she wasn't fast enough. On the third step, in the middle of the plush carpet, the shotgun spat lead and flame and lit up the darkness. She howled as the shell ravaged the flesh and bone of her hip and spun her around. Her legs stopped working; she sank to the ground. She dragged herself toward the door, but the six feet between her and the hallway was infinite.