The Burying Place

by Brian Freeman

  'Whatever you're hiding, I'm going to find out. You might as well tell me.'

  'I'm not hiding anything.'

  Serena frowned. 'Lace your fingers together on top of your head.'

  'What?'

  'You heard me.'

  Glenn complied.

  'Now stay on your knees,' she told him. 'Crawl toward me. Slowly.'

  Serena backed a few steps into the hallway. The tall surgeon came forward on his knees, watching her gun.

  'Could you please put that thing down?' he asked.

  'Shut up.' When Glenn was in the doorway of the office, she told him, 'Stop right there. Now get down on all fours.'

  He went to his hands and knees on the carpet.

  'This is crazy,' he said. 'I haven't done anything.'

  'Put your hands on the carpet and lie with your face down and your hands and legs far apart. Keep your fingers spread.'

  'Look, I already told you—'

  'Do it.'

  Glenn heard the ice in her voice. He slid on to the ground until his body made an extended X on the carpet.

  'Stay that way,' Serena snapped. 'Don't move. Don't look up.'

  She backed up to the first closed door on her right. She turned the knob with two fingers and pushed the door open, revealing an empty spare bedroom. Nothing was amiss. Keeping her gun trained on Glenn, she backed up to the next door and found an elegant bathroom with rose decor and a double shower.

  'Where's Regan's bedroom?' she asked Glenn.

  'At the other end of the hallway.'

  'Stay where you are.'

  She walked past the stairs to the closed door leading to the master suite. On the carpet, she spotted another wet stain extending from inside the bedroom under the crack of the door. She inhaled and didn't like what she smelled. When she glanced at Glenn, she saw him with his head up, watching her.

  'What am I going to find in there?' she asked.

  'I have no idea.'

  He was lying.

  'If you went in there, we'll find your prints,' she told him.

  Glenn's face twisted in dismay. 'I didn't do it,' he said.

  'Do what?' Serena asked, but she could guess what was waiting for her.

  'It's not good,' he told her.

  Serena dug in her pocket for gloves. She snapped one on to her right hand and twisted the knob with a light touch, then eased the door open with her foot. The bedroom was shadowy, its curtains closed. Light from the skylight in the hallway cascaded through the open door in a stream and illuminated the wall.

  Her breath caught in her chest.

  She took two steps into the room, far enough to see the king-sized bed, with its turquoise blue sheets in disarray; the shotgun lying on the carpet, emanating a smell of burnt powder; and the blood. Halfway between the bed and the door was a massive pool of blood spread out like the spidery fingers of a lake, and behind it, on the wall, she saw gruesome splatters of brain, tissue, and bone.

  There was no body. But whoever had lain in that pool wasn't alive.

  'Son of a bitch,' Serena murmured.

  She stared at the wall and realized that someone had dipped into the blood like red paint and written a message. Each letter was six inches tall, printed awkwardly, the way a child would write. Streaks dripped from the words and made parallel lines down the wall. The message read: HI, KASEY.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Maggie carried a chair into Regan Conrad's living room under one arm and set it down with the back facing the sofa and the bay window. She straddled the seat and leaned her forearms on top of the chair. Her heels sank into the plush carpet. She eyed the glass artwork in the room with casual curiosity and then focused on Marcus Glenn, who sat on the sofa with his hands in his lap.

  'When can I go home?' Glenn asked.

  Maggie shrugged. 'What's the rush, Doc?'

  'I have surgeries scheduled in the morning. I can't just walk into the hospital and cut someone open. I have to prepare.'

  'Yeah, those knee jobs, ka-ching, right?' she said. 'I saw your Lexus outside. KNEEDOC, that's pretty cute. But right now I'm not too worried about some CEO who needs help with his golf game, OK? We found you at a crime scene, Dr Glenn, so whether you make it home today really depends on the conversation we're having right now.'

  The surgeon settled back into the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. 'I told Ms Dial, and I'm telling you, I had nothing to do with whatever happened here.'

  'So you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Again. This is becoming sort of a habit for you, isn't it? You were in the house when your daughter disappeared, but you had nothing to do with it. You were in the house where a murder appears to have taken place, but you had nothing to do with it.'

  'That's right.'

  Maggie had dealt with doctors before, and she knew they were tough to rattle, but Glenn's eyes were nervous underneath his annoyed facade. He had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he knew it. When Maggie didn't say anything more, Glenn added, 'Look, if someone killed Regan, it happened hours before I arrived.'

  'Really? How do you know that?'

  'I'm a doctor. I see a lot of blood.'

  'But you're not a pathologist, are you?'

  'I'm also not a magician. I can't make a dead body disappear. The one good thing about being under surveillance is that the police always know where I am. Ms Dial knows perfectly well that I was here for less than an hour before she arrived.'

  'Yeah, let's talk about that,' Maggie said. 'Why exactly were you here?'

  Glenn shrugged. 'I thought that Regan may have had something to do with Callie's disappearance.'

  'Why is that?'

  'We were having an affair. The break-up was extremely bitter.'

  'So what were you planning to do? Ask her if she was involved in stealing your daughter? Did you think she'd break down and confess?'

  'You didn't know Regan. If she did something, she was the kind of person who would throw it in my face.'

  'But she wasn't home when you arrived?' Maggie asked.

  'Obviously.'

  'Did you break in or was the door open?'

  'The door was open.'

  Maggie nodded. 'Do you have a key?'

  'I didn't need a key. I told you, the door was open.'

  'Let's try answering the questions I ask. Do you have a key to Regan's house?'

  'Yes, I do,' Glenn admitted. 'Regan gave me a key while we were involved.'

  'Do you have it with you?'

  'I imagine it's still on my key chain. I haven't thought about it in months.'

  Maggie smiled. 'Sure. You came here with Regan's house key, but you didn't even think about breaking in. So why did you go inside?'

  'I was concerned when I saw the door was open,' Glenn said.

  'I shouted, but there was no answer. I began to look around the house, and that was when I saw that something terrible had happened.'

  'Why didn't you call the police?'

  'I was about to call them.'

  'Really? Ms Dial said you were too busy ransacking Regan's medical files.'

  'I thought Regan might have kept something that would tell me if she was involved in what happened to Callie.'

  'Did you think you were likely to find something that the police would miss? Or were you planning to make sure we didn't find whatever you were looking for?'

  Glenn didn't reply.

  'When was the last time you spoke to Regan?' Maggie asked.

  'It was months ago.'

  'Have you called her recently?'

  'No.'

  'You're sure?'

  Glenn backpedaled as he read Maggie's face. 'Actually, I left her a message last night. I told her I wanted to talk. But I didn't actually speak to her.'

  Maggie nodded. 'People think they can delete answering machine messages, but they're among the easiest things to recover. We pulled up your message to her. You said something about Regan being in your office over the weekend.'
r />   Glenn didn't look happy. 'Yes, my nurse told me she was there.'

  'Why would Regan be in your office?'

  'I don't know. That's what I wanted to find out.'

  'Would you like to make a guess?'

  'I have no idea,' Glenn told her.

  'Were you concerned that she stole something?'

  He blinked uncomfortably. 'I told you, I don't know,' he repeated.

  'Regan told your wife that she thought you were responsible for your daughter's disappearance,' she said.

  'That's completely untrue.'

  'It makes me wonder if your story is a little backwards, Dr Glenn.'

  'What do you mean?'

  Maggie leaned forward. 'I mean, are you sure you weren't going through Regan's files to find out if she had any evidence that you were involved in Callie's disappearance? Evidence she may have taken from your office?'

  'Of course not.'

  'It's quite a coincidence, you showing up at Regan's house after someone else killed her.'

  'I had nothing to do with it.'

  'Did you know she was dead? Did you come here to erase evidence before the crime was discovered?'

  Glenn shook his head. 'I didn't know anything had happened to Regan until I got here.'

  'Who do you think killed her?' Maggie asked.

  He shrugged. 'She lives in the north farmlands. There have been some terrible crimes here recently.'

  'So you think the same person who killed the other women also killed Regan?'

  'I have no idea, but doesn’t that seem likely? The women in the hospital are all afraid of this man, whoever he is. Regan bragged about sleeping with a shotgun by her bed.'

  Maggie raised her eyebrows. 'You knew she had a shotgun?'

  'A lot of people did,' Glenn replied defensively. 'Regan didn't make it a secret. She was scared of this maniac like everyone else.'

  'Not everyone is scared when a serial killer comes to town,' she told him.

  'What the hell does that mean?'

  Maggie pushed her red hair out of her eyes and frowned. 'Every now and then, Doctor, someone sees it as an opportunity.'

  Serena sat in her Mustang in Regan's driveway, staring through the open window at the snow-covered fields. It was almost dusk, but she wore sunglasses, and Maggie suspected she had been crying. She didn't say a word as Maggie opened the passenger door and sat beside her. They didn't look at each other. Maggie left the door open and kicked at the dirt outside with her boot. When she took a sideways glance at Serena, she could see that her face was rigid with fury.

  She didn't blame her for being angry, and she had no idea what to say. There was no way to make it better.

  'Glenn didn't do it,' Maggie announced after an uncomfortable stretch of silence. 'Or at least, he didn't pull the trigger. That doesn’t mean he's not involved.'

  Serena didn't say anything. Maggie glanced at the highway and saw media vans parked on the shoulder. 'The press already has the story,' she continued. 'Blair Rowe was on CNN half an hour ago speculating about a link between the murder here and Callie's disappearance.'

  Serena shrugged. 'Blair Rowe knows everyone in the Grand Rapids Police. Someone leaked.'

  'What do you think? Is there a link between the two cases?'

  'I think Marcus is lying about why he was here,' Serena said. 'I'd like to know what he was really looking for in those files.'

  'Yeah.'

  'What does Guppo say about the crime scene?' Serena asked. 'Is it the farmlands killer?'

  'The MO is similar,' Maggie said. 'The right locale, the missing body. I'm not sure about the shotgun, though. This guy likes to use his hands.'

  'Maybe Regan surprised him, and he grabbed the gun.'

  'Maybe, but that's not how it looks. Guppo thinks he had the gun the whole time. There was no struggle. That's not how this guy operates.'

  'Except there's the message on the wall,' Serena said.

  Maggie nodded. 'Yeah. The message feels authentic. This guy is playing with Kasey. But I still don't buy the coincidence that he went after Regan Conrad just for the hell of it. There's a connection to Callie in all of this.'

  'Have you told Kasey about the message on the wall?'

  'Not yet. I asked her to come over here. She's not far away.'

  'I talked to Stride,' Serena said. 'He's going to talk to Micki Vega. She's the one link we know about between Marcus and Regan.'

  'Yeah, I talked to him too.'

  Serena shook her head and laughed bitterly. 'Of course you did. What was I thinking?'

  'Look, Serena,' Maggie said.

  Serena held up a hand, stopping her. 'I don't think we should do this now. Do you? We're professionals. That's all.'

  Maggie heard the message loud and clear. We're professionals. Not friends. Not anymore.

  'I know it doesn’t mean shit, but I'm sorry,' she said.

  Serena stripped off her sunglasses in a fierce gesture. Her eyes were red and angry. 'You want to talk about this now? Fine. Don't bullshit me or give me fake stories about being sorry. This was no accident. You knew that Jonny and I were having problems, because I was stupid enough to tell you. You sabotaged our relationship to get what you've always wanted. Well, bravo. I never thought you were that ruthless. I was naive enough to think you were my friend. So now I pay the price for trusting you.'

  Her words hit Maggie like a frigid breeze stinging her face. In the aftermath, she heard Serena breathing loudly.

  'You can believe it or not, but it was not like that,' Maggie told her softly. 'Stride had an attack. I found him like that. Serena, he needed someone. It just happened.'

  Serena rolled her eyes. 'It just happened? Is that the best you can do? Sure, you didn't plan anything. Oh, and by the way, nice hair, Maggie.'

  She knew her excuse was lame. 'I just wanted something different.'

  'Well, you got it. Now get the fuck out of my car.'

  Maggie climbed out and closed the passenger door behind her. She leaned back in the window. 'I never meant to come between the two of you,' she said. 'I still don't. I'm out. It was one time. It was an accident. He loves you, and I'm not going to mess that up.'

  Serena put on her sunglasses again. 'Too late.'

  Maggie opened her mouth to say something more, but she had nothing to say. She took a step backward and then walked away in quick, angry steps toward Regan's house. She could see strands of her red hair dangling in front of her eyes, and suddenly she hated herself and her damn strawberry hair and what she had done to Stride. Serena was right. She could tell herself that she had never meant for anything to happen, that she had never meant to stumble into the middle of their relationship, but on some level, she knew she was lying. Consciously or not, she had known all along what she was doing. She had gone into Stride's house with her eyes wide open.

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  It was already night by the time Stride arrived at the base of the sloping hillside of the Sago Cemetery. He got out of his truck and felt the craving for a cigarette. There was something about cold, sweet air that made him want to smoke. He leaned against his truck and studied the tall pine trees standing guard around the perimeter of the graveyard, protecting the dead. As the wind blew, they shrugged their tufted black shoulders at him.

  He hiked up the slope through the thin coating of snow, navigating around the dark outlines of the marble stones. The metal flagpole banged incessantly, like a child demanding attention. At the top of the hill, he crept along the ragged edge of the woods, looking for the path that led to the trailer where Micki Vega lived. When he found it, he plunged into darkness between the columns of tree trunks. He took careful steps, avoiding noise, as if he were intruding on something sacred. He remembered what Micki had told him: this was a place where people buried things they didn't want found.

  Ahead of him, fifty yards away, he saw the squares of light from a mobile home in the clearing. It was an isolated place to live, hidden from view. As he got c
loser, he heard the canned noise of a television, sounding odd and artificial in the forest. When he knocked, he heard a female voice speaking loud, rapid Spanish, and then the television went silent.

  Micki Vega opened the door. She scowled when she saw him. 'You again. What do you want?'

  'Can I come in?'

  'What if I say no? You going to bust down my door?'

  'No.'

  Micki shrugged. 'Yeah, what do I care, come in. See how I'm taking bread out of the mouths of American workers.'

  He climbed three steps into the trailer, which sagged under his weight. It felt claustrophobic with its low metal ceiling and narrow walls. The furniture smelled musty, like a wet dog, and the tiny space was messy, with magazines on the floor and dead plants on the window ledges and empty beer cans stacked on card tables. The room was uncomfortably warm, and Stride began to sweat.

  Micki wasn't alone. On the far side of the trailer, near the half- open curtain that led to the bedroom, a heavyset woman with long black hair lay in a recliner in front of a small television. She was in her early fifties and wore a plastic mask across her nose and mouth that was connected to an oxygen tank on the floor. He could hear her lungs wheeze with each breath. On the television, with muted sound, he saw a word puzzle on the Wheel of Fortune game show.

  'That's my mama,' Micki said. 'I told you she was sick.'

  Stride nodded politely at the woman, but she didn't react, other than to watch him with open suspicion in her dark eyes.

  'You can see we're rich,' Micki said. 'What were you expecting to find anyway? Did you think I had Callie Glenn hidden in here? You think I'd take a baby out of that beautiful mansion and bring her to this place?'

  'That's not why I'm here,' Stride said.

  'Yeah, well, what is it now? It's time for dinner.' Micki stirred yellow rice and ground beef in a frying pan on the small stove near the door. She took a swig from an open can of beer. She wore a roomy white T-shirt from the Minnesota State Fair and a pair of jeans that hugged her fleshy thighs. Her feet were bare.

  'We think Regan Conrad is dead,' Stride told her.