Micki wiped foam from her lips. 'Really? How?'
'It looks like someone murdered her.'
Micki crossed herself and murmured under her breath. 'Sweet Mary. That's a terrible thing. Murdered?'
'Yes.'
'How?' 'Someone shot her in the head.'
'My God.'
'We found Marcus Glenn in her house,' Stride added. 'He was searching her medical files.'
Micki's mouth fell open. 'Dr Glenn? You think Dr Glenn killed her?'
'We want to know what he was doing there,' Stride said.
'You won't be happy until you bring him down, will you? Dr Glenn would never do something like that. He couldn't.'
'He's acting like he has something to hide. I think you know what it is.'
'Me? How would I know?'
'You know Dr Glenn. You knew Regan Conrad. You were in the house when Callie disappeared.'
'So what? I hadn't talked to Nurse Regan in months. I've told you all that before. Why can't you leave me alone?' Micki went back to stirring the rice with angry swirls of a wooden spoon.
'If you know anything about Dr Glenn and Regan Conrad, you really need to tell me,' Stride said. 'I understand you feel gratitude for what he did to help you, but if he was involved in these crimes—'
'He wasn't,' she snapped.
'Regan Conrad thought he was.'
Micki looked up from the stove. The steam from the pan raised a moist glow on her forehead, and she wiped herself with a towel. 'Why do you think that?'
'Regan contacted Valerie Glenn. She told her that Dr Glenn was involved in Callie's disappearance.'
'How would she know?' Micki asked.
'I don't know, but now Regan is dead, so she'll never have a chance to tell us.'
'She was wrong.'
'How can you be sure?'
'I know Dr Glenn,' she insisted. 'He would never have deliberately harmed his child. Never. Whatever happened, it was something else.'
'Deliberately?' Stride asked. 'Do you think it was an accident?'
'You're twisting my words. I'm telling you, he's innocent.'
'Migdalia,' a raspy voice called from the other side of the trailer.
Stride saw Micki's mother pointing an index finger at her daughter. The oxygen mask that had been draped across her face was clenched tightly in her fist. She inhaled and coughed raggedly and then, dragging in another breath, she spat out words in Spanish. 'Migdalia, digale:
Micki slapped the spoon down and shoved the frying pan off the heat. 'Mama, callate. No te metas:
'Si no le dices, le estas dando tu espalda a Jesus.'
Her mother blinked and put the mask back over her face. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air.
'No lo voy a traicionar,' Micki retorted, stamping her foot on the metal floor.
Her mother waved a hand at Micki insistently, and her face paled with the effort. She spoke again behind the mask with strained, muffled words. 'Digale.'
Micki folded her hands over her chest. She kicked a beer can on the floor of the trailer and muttered under her breath.
'What did she say?' Stride asked.
'She said I should stay out of this,' Micki retorted loudly, eyeing her mother. 'She said nothing good ever comes from talking to the police.'
'Maybe I should ask her myself,' Stride said.
'Leave my mama alone! You see how she is. She has no strength. I don't want you putting her in the middle of this.'
'Is she involved?'
'Of course not,' Micki snapped. She pushed past Stride and sat down in a metal folding chair. She laced her hands tightly together and stared at her feet. Her left leg twitched. 'Why don't you just go?' she told him.
Stride squatted beside her. 'Think about Callie. You felt something for that little girl, didn't you? You took care of her.'
'She was an angel,' Micki said with a little smile.
Stride nodded. 'Imagine if your own baby had disappeared and you never knew what happened to her. Imagine how desperate you would feel. If you know something, Micki, you simply can't remain silent. Callie deserves better than that.'
'Dr Glenn didn't harm her,' Micki repeated.
'Then what is he hiding? Why was he in Regan Conrad's house?'
Micki shrugged. She got out of the chair and turned her back on Stride. She walked to the recliner in front of the television and used the remote control to shut it off. She stroked her mother's hair. The two women didn't speak to each other, but as Stride watched, Micki's mother reached out and clutched her daughter's wrist in her thick fingers. Micki's lower lip bulged as if she was about to cry. She separated herself gently from her mother's grip and bent down behind the recliner. Her mother watched her. When Micki stood up, she held a cardboard shoe box in her hands.
Stride waited, saying nothing.
Micki sat down again with the box in her lap. She covered the lid with her forearms and stared at the trailer door.
'I was late coming home that night,' she said. 'Mama was worried.'
'The night Callie disappeared?'
Micki nodded. 'She kept looking out the window for me.'
'What did she see?' Stride asked.
'A light,' Micki said. 'She saw a light in the woods near the cemetery. Someone was out there.'
'When was this?'
'Somewhere around midnight. She told me about it on Saturday, and all I could think about was how people bury things out there. And I thought, you know, that Dr Glenn's family is buried here. He comes to see his mama a lot. So I went to look.'
'What did you find?' Stride asked.
Micki hugged the box in her lap and didn't say anything.
'Please,' Stride urged her. 'What did you find?'
She peeled the lid off the box. Inside, Stride saw an odd mix of memorabilia crammed together. Dirty plastic flowers. Dog collars with rhinestones. Wrinkled, faded photographs.
'This is my collection,' Micki said. 'People leave things behind at the graves. And in the woods, too. I keep them. I like to think I can feel a little of the love, you know? It's silly, but I can spend hours this way.'
'Did you find something in the woods?' Stride asked. 'Near where your mother saw the light that night?'
Micki reached into the box and pulled out a small toy, a rolled-up paper horn with a plastic mouthpiece. Stride recognized it. It was the kind of blow horn that revelers used on New Year's Eve. 'I found this in a little clearing,' she said.
'Do you realize what this means?' Stride asked. 'Callie was a New Year's baby.'
'Yeah, I know.'
'Did you find anything else?'
Micki nodded. 'Someone tried to cover it up, but I could tell from the ground when I kicked the leaves away. Something was buried there.'
* * *
Chapter Thirty-eight
Maggie saw Kasey's eyes dart with fear as the young cop got out of her car. Her body was caught in the cross-section of headlights from the squad cars parked in the fields around Regan's house. Kasey squinted and held up her hand with her fingers spread as she passed through the gauntlet of lights.
'What's going on?' she asked. 'What do you want?'
'He struck again,' Maggie told her.
Kasey shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her body. 'Who is it?'
'The house belongs to a nurse named Regan Conrad.'
'A nurse? Isn't she the one Serena was talking about at dinner yesterday? The one connected to the baby case in Grand Rapids?'
Maggie nodded.
'So why'd you want me here?'
Maggie frowned. 'I have to show you something. It ain't pretty, Kasey.'
Kasey put her hands in her pockets. 'I know I'm a cop, but I'm not awfully good with dead bodies, you know? It doesn’t come up a lot on my beat.'
'There's no body.'
Kasey cocked her head. 'What?'
'No body, just a lot of blood. He took the body with him the way he did with the other women.'
'No body?' she repeated. 'How do you
know it's Regan? How do you know she's dead?'
'We won't know for certain until we run tests, but no one has seen her today. As for being dead, you don't lose that much blood and tissue and stay alive. Looks like she took a shotgun shell to the head.'
Kasey looked flustered. 'What do you need to show me?'
Maggie jerked her head toward the front of the house. 'Come on.'
As they walked, Kasey said, 'I don't know if it makes a difference right now, but I handed in my resignation today. Bruce and I talked about it, and we both think this is the way to go. I know I was supposed to call you, but it's been busy with us packing up the truck and all. We're going to leave first thing in the morning.'
'I understand.'
'I feel like I'm bailing on you.'
'You're not bailing on me. If it were me, I might be doing the same thing.'
'Do you think I'm being paranoid?'
Maggie shook her head. 'No, I don't.' At the front door, she added, 'Take your shoes off, and put on some plastic booties. Don't touch anything, OK?'
'Sure.'
The interior of the house smelled like glue from the fume boxes used by the evidence technicians to raise fingerprints. The carpet had been freshly vacuumed to gather trace materials. Maggie led Kasey up the stairs. At the open door of Regan's bedroom, she turned and stopped her with a hand on her chest. 'I'm not trying to be cruel, Kasey. If you don't want to go inside, just tell me, but I think this is something you need to see for yourself. It'll probably make you feel better about getting into your truck tomorrow morning.'
'What's in there?' Kasey asked.
'He left you a message.'
Maggie let Kasey go first. The young cop crossed the threshold, and her eyes flitted around the room. The massive bloodstain attracted her attention, and she inched closer and squatted down, where the smell was strongest. Maggie thought Kasey was about to touch the stain itself, and she prepared to call out a warning, but Kasey pulled her hand back. Then her head twisted, and she saw the writing on the wall.
Two words. A ghastly greeting.
Kasey's hands flew to her mouth.
'I'm sorry,' Maggie said. 'It's not the same to hear about it on the phone. I thought you should know exactly how dangerous this situation has become for you.'
Kasey stumbled to her feet and collided against the wall of the bedroom. Maggie heard the lurching noise of Kasey's stomach turning upside down. Kasey ran for the toilet, but she only made it to the bathroom doorway before sinking to her knees. Vomit spewed through her clenched fingers and splattered on the tile. She fell forward on to all fours, head down, red hair tumbling over her face. Her body shook with dry heaves.
Maggie stood over her and put a hand softly on her back. 'Are you all right?'
Kasey took deep, ragged breaths without speaking. She eased upward on to her heels, and her head fell back. She blinked as she stared at the ceiling.
'Shit, I'm sorry,' she murmured.
'Don't worry about it.'
'How did it come to this?' Kasey asked. 'How did this become my life?'
'It's not your fault.'
'I need to go,' Kasey said. She staggered to her feet and swayed. Maggie put an arm around her waist to steady her. She helped Kasey toward the bedroom door, steering her around the pool of black dried blood.
'I don't want to scare you,' Maggie said, 'but running away may not be enough. For some reason, this guy has become fixated on you. You're special to him. He may not give up just because you leave the area. Wherever you go, watch your back.'
In the door frame, Kasey stopped and stood on her own. She took a few steps closer to the wall, where the message taunted her.
'You're right.'
Maggie saw something unexpected in Kasey's eyes. The fear was gone, as if she had hit bottom and realized there was nowhere else to fall. She looked older, not like an immature kid any more. Her face held a fury so deep that Maggie found it unsettling.
'It's him or me,' Kasey added. 'That's the way it is. Only one of us is coming out of this thing alive.'
Stride recognized the Ford Taurus parked at the end of the road leading to the Glenn house. When he got out of his truck, he found Blair Rowe sitting on top of the white picket fence that bordered the driveway. She kicked her heels back and forth against the wooden beams like a tap dancer. A cigarette hung from her lips. She jumped down when she saw him and bounded across the grass.
'Lieutenant!' Blair sang out.
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather coat. The tiny reporter stopped uncomfortably close to him.
'Hey,' she said breathlessly. 'I figured you'd be coming here.'
'Why is that?' Stride asked.
'Oh, I've got an ear to the ground.' She took the cigarette out of her mouth and played with it between her fingers. Ash sprinkled to the street. 'So how's it going?'
'I didn't figure you for a smoker, Blair,' Stride told her.
'It's not just adrenaline that keeps me skinny,' she said, grinning. 'Besides, I'm a reporter. We have to smoke. It's required. That's the first thing they teach you in journalism school.' She tapped the square outline of a cigarette pack in the shoulder pocket of her jacket. 'You want one?'
He did, but he shook his head.
'What about a toasted pecan?' she asked, digging in her side pocket and popping a nut into her mouth. 'My mom makes them. They've got a cinnamon glaze. Really good.'
'Your mom's quite the cook.'
'Well, she's home with my kid a lot, so she has to keep busy when lie's sleeping. She's a stick like me, but we both love to eat.'
'What do you want, Blair?' Stride asked.
She dropped her cigarette on the ground and shoved her glasses up her face with her finger. 'I heard about Regan Conrad. Is it true that Marcus Glenn is under arrest for the murder?' 'No.'
'Really? Word is you caught him red-handed. Someone told me he m i up the crime scene to make it look like that serial killer popped Regan.'
'I'm not in charge of the murder investigation, Blair,' Stride said.
'Yeah, sure, except I can connect the dots. Regan's dead, and you found Marcus pawing through her files. Sounds like she had dirt on him and Callie.'
'We're done here, Blair.'
He walked past her down the circular driveway that led to the Glenns' house. Blair spun and struggled to keep pace with him, her short legs moving quickly. Puffs of steam came out of her mouth and blew away in the wind.
'You're here to see Valerie, huh?' Blair asked, panting. 'You should be thanking me, you know. I'm the one who broke the news about Valerie's affair. You guys didn't know about that, did you?'
'It's not relevant,' Stride snapped.
Blair's glasses slipped again, resting on the tip of her nose so she had to tilt her head back to see him. 'Are you kidding? Come on, it gives Marcus a motive. We both know that. His pretty little wife is banging her brother-in-law? That's not going to sit well with King Marcus. And you know what I think? I think Marcus had Regan run a paternity test that proved he wasn't Callie's father. That's what he was looking for in her medical records. He wouldn't want it coming out that he knew the truth about Callie.'
Stride stopped and looked at her. 'Do you have any evidence of that?'
'Not yet, but I'm looking.'
'Then you have nothing but speculation.'
He continued walking, but Blair tugged on his arm. 'So what's the deal, Lieutenant? When do you start the search out at the cemetery?'
'What did you say?'
Stride was shocked. He had left Micki's trailer less than an hour earlier, and the only person he had called was Denise Sheridan.
Blair smirked, as if she could read his mind. 'Are you going to run the search at night or are you waiting until morning? Snow's coming soon, so that's going to make it harder. My bet is you'll bring in the Klieg lights and go at it tonight.'
'No comment.'
'Hey, the news is coming out, like it or not. You may as well make sure I've got t
he story right. You're searching in the cemetery where half the Glenn family is buried and Micki Vega is the caretaker. So what did Micki tell you? I said from the beginning that she and Marcus were probably in on this together.'
'I'm not confirming a search at the cemetery,' Stride told her.
'Right, you have to talk to Valerie first and give her the bad news. I get it. But I'm going on the air about the search.'
'I told you, I'm not confirming that any search is planned.'
'You say no, but Craig Hickey says yes, and my money's on Craig.'
'Who the hell is he?' Stride asked.
Blair shrugged. 'You'll find out soon enough, so what the hell. Craig has a spread near Cohasset, and I dated his son Terry for a couple years in high school. I still bum around with Terry sometimes. Remember, Lieutenant, this is my town. I know everybody.'
'So?'
'So Denise Sheridan called Craig, and Craig called Terry, and Terry called me. That's just the way things work around here. You see, Craig is the go-to guy on the Range when the police need dogs. Rescue dogs. Bomb-sniffing dogs. Drug-sniffing dogs.' She got on tiptoes and whispered, 'Or cadaver dogs.'
* * *
Chapter Thirty-nine
Stride hadn't spent much time with Valerie Glenn, but he knew that she was the kind of woman that men wanted to rescue. He talked to Valerie in her kitchen, where she used a gleaming chef's knife to dice a yellow onion on a cutting board. Her eyes were hooded as she looked down, following her work, but every so often she froze and glanced through the window at the pitch-black night. Then, with nothing more than a flick of her blue eyes, she would let her gaze fall on Stride as if to say: it's dark out. There are monsters. Protect me.
The onion brought tears to his eyes, but Valerie seemed unaffected. She cut it with precision, as if one cube larger than another would destroy the orderliness of what she was doing. He thought he understood her. She was a woman of walls, like Serena, but unlike Serena, she was desperate for someone to break them down.
'You're not saying much, Lieutenant,' Valerie told him. 'When people avoid telling me things, I'm afraid it's because they have bad news to share.' She stopped what she was doing, and her broken eyes pierced him again. 'Is it bad news?'
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