In the Dark (29 page)

 

Serena shrugged and acquiesced. The two of them left the restaurant. In the parking lot, he pointed at a black Lexus near the rear of the lot. “That’s me.”

 

He took her arm as they walked.

 

“I heard about Finn’s suicide attempt last week,” Peter said. “Is he going to make it?”

 

“Assuming he doesn’t try again.”

 

“Finn should be Stride’s prime suspect, not me,” Peter said. “He admitted being in the park that night and following Laura. Now he tries to kill himself when he’s questioned.”

 

“Finn’s a suspect, but you just put yourself back in the game because of those letters.”

 

“There’s no game. Legally I don’t have any concerns about what’s going on. Pat Burns knows that. I’m sure Stride knows it, too. There are chain of custody issues, evidence issues, witness issues. No one’s ever going to charge me with a crime.”

 

“So what do you need me for?” Serena asked.

 

“My public persona is important to me. If this gets out in the press, and if suspicion continues to swirl around me, it will be extremely unpleasant for me and my business.”

 

They arrived at his Lexus. Peter ran his hand over the smooth finish.

 

“I don’t know who killed Laura,” he continued, “but if the media and the police are going to sink their teeth into anyone, I want it to be Finn. I want you to dig up everything you can about him. Find out about his background. Prove he’s the kind of man who could kill a young girl. You’re a detective. Investigate the suspect.”

 

“That’s Stride’s job,” Serena said.

 

“I’m not telling you to keep secrets from him. Whatever you find, you can share with Stride. But his hands are tied by police procedure and other cases. He also has Tish whispering in his ear that I’m guilty. I want someone on the playing field who’s working for me.”

 

“I don’t trust you.”

 

“I’m not asking you to trust me. If you find evidence that points to me, so be it. But you won’t, because I didn’t do it. Look, I know what kind of
woman you are, Serena. Once a cop, always a cop. You want to be in on this investigation, and I’m offering you the chance to dive into it. And get paid handsomely for your time.”

 

Serena wanted to say no, but Peter was right.

 

“Why Finn?” she asked. “Why not ask me to take a look at the black guy? Dada?”

 

“Lawyers look for weaknesses. Finn’s the weak link.”

 

“In other words, you’d prefer that Dada remains a mystery.”

 

“Anyone who’s a suspect in this case wants Dada to stay a mystery,” Peter admitted. “He’s a get-out-of-jail-free card. As long as no one knows where he is, no one can prove beyond a reasonable doubt who really killed Laura.”

 

Serena shook her head. “I’d make a lousy defense lawyer. I’d always be wondering if my client was guilty.”

 

“Sometimes you don’t want to know.”

 

“I do. I want to know.”

 

Peter unlocked the trunk of the Lexus. “I told you I was going to take a leap of faith. This is how much I want you to believe me.” He reached inside the trunk and extracted a narrow box, about four feet long and six inches wide. The tape holding it closed was crusted and yellow. Serena saw a single word written on the box in black marker.

 

DESTROY.

 

“What is this?” she asked.

 

Peter handed her the box. It was solid and heavy.

 

“You were right about Ray Wallace,” he said. “He conspired with my father to steer the case away from me. Randall wanted Ray to put it all on Dada.”

 

“What did Ray do?”

 

“He dropped the case. Later, he arranged for some of the key pieces of evidence to vanish from the police file. I think Randall figured someone might try to open up the case again someday, and he wanted a guarantee. So Ray destroyed most of the physical evidence. But not this. Randall insisted on keeping this himself. I think he knew it gave him leverage if Ray ever got a guilty conscience.”

 

“What is it?” Serena asked again.

 

“It’s the murder weapon,” Peter said. “It’s the baseball bat. The one that was used to kill Laura.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

29
___________

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hospital ward was like a church, where every voice disturbed the silence. Even the noise of Stride’s heels echoing between the walls felt as loud as fireworks. The corridor was dim. Most of the patients were sleeping through the late evening hours. He stopped at the nurse’s station and was directed to a room near the end of the hallway.

 

He watched Finn Mathisen from the doorway but didn’t go inside. The man’s face, always pallid and yellow, looked like ash now. His eyes were closed. His forearms were bundled in white bandages up to his elbows. An intravenous line dripped fluid into the flesh of his right shoulder. He was stable now and almost ready to be discharged, but in Stride’s eyes, he still looked like death. People in hospital beds always did.

 

If Stride had not gone into that bathroom, or if he had arrived even five minutes later, Finn would already be dead. That didn’t stop him from feeling guilty that he and Maggie had hounded Finn with their questions until he chose to escape by attempting suicide.

 

The question was—escape from what? From the guilt of stalking Mary Biggs to her death? Or from the guilt of beating Laura to death?

 

Or both?

 

If Finn had succeeded, he would have taken the answers with him. Finn dying would have been exactly like Dada jumping on that train. The investigation would have shut down again, and suspicion would have landed like a bird of prey on Finn’s dead body. Rightly or wrongly.

 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Stride turned and found Rikke Mathisen behind him. She clutched a cup of hospital coffee in her hand, and steam curled out of the brown liquid. She was tall; they were almost eye to eye. Her face was hard with rage. She pushed past Stride into the hospital room and tugged the flimsy curtain, blocking Finn from Stride’s sight.

 

“I said, what are you doing here?” she hissed again.

 

“I wanted to check on Finn.”

 

Rikke pointed her finger like an arrow out of the room. At the end of the corridor was a small waiting area, with dreadful orange sofas, out-of-date family magazines, and an overhead thirteen-inch television suspended from the ceiling. No one was there. The television was off. Stride went to the tall window and looked out on the main street of Superior below him. Rikke followed. She wore an oversized sweatshirt and jeans.

 

“You are not to come near him,” she insisted. “You are not to talk to him. Is that clear? I’ve hired a lawyer. We are through with you, starting now.”

 

“How is Finn?”

 

“Alive,” she snapped.

 

“I hear he’s going home tomorrow. I’m glad he’s okay.”

 

“He’s not okay.”

 

“I’m sorry about what happened.”

 

Rikke’s eyes were two blue stones. “Spare me. You knew perfectly well what kind of a man Finn is. He’s an addict, for Christ’s sake. An alcoholic. You deliberately went and pushed him over the edge. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

 

“It wasn’t like that,” Stride said.

 

“You’ve put salve on your conscience by coming here, Lieutenant. Now go home. Get away from me and my brother.”

 

Rikke sat down, grabbed a dated copy of
People
, and flipped the pages savagely.

 

“You knew about Finn peeping teenage girls,” Stride said.

 

“I have nothing to say.”

 

“A girl died.”

 

“That’s not Finn’s fault.”

 

“I think you know it is. You destroyed evidence, didn’t you? Our search team said someone burned papers in Finn’s room. The hard drive of his computer was missing. If he’s mentally ill, you’re not helping him by covering up what he did.”

 

Rikke slapped the magazine shut. “Finn does not belong in prison. He belongs with me. I can take care of him.”

 

“You can’t control him,” Stride said. “Isn’t that obvious? He’ll start all over again when he gets home. We both know it. What if another girl dies? How will you feel then?”

 

“Finn would never hurt anyone.”

 

“No? What about Laura?”

 

“I told you, he wasn’t there that night. He had nothing to do with it. He was with me. At home.”

 

Stride shook his head. “Someone masturbated near Laura’s body. We still have the semen that was collected. If Finn was there, we’ll be able to prove it.”

 

“I’m not letting you take a DNA sample from him.”

 

“We don’t need one. Finn provided a large sample of his blood on the floor of the bathroom in the Detective Bureau.”

 

“You took his blood off the floor?” Rikke asked. “What kind of barbarian are you? A man is dying, and all you can think about is your investigation?”

 

“My concern is with the victims,” Stride said. “I’m going to test his DNA. We’re going to find out that Finn was at the murder scene that night.”

 

“I’ll talk to my lawyer. He’ll put a stop to this rape of Finn’s body. You’re disgusting, do you know that? You’re an animal. You don’t understand what Finn has been through in his life.”

 

Stride squatted in front of her. “Finn took the car that night, didn’t he? When he came home, he was covered in blood. I think you did exactly what you did a few days ago. You covered up for him. You protected him.”

 

“I think you should go,” Rikke announced. “I have nothing more to say.”

 

“Finn was in love with Laura. He was obsessed with her. That’s how this all started.”

 

“You don’t know anything,” Rikke told him. “You should just leave it alone. Believe me, Finn’s problems began long before Laura.”

 

 

 

 

Serena rang the doorbell and waited. The Honda Civic that Tish drove was parked in the driveway of the lakefront condominium. Masking tape surrounded the edge of the windshield where the glass had been replaced. Across the street, Serena saw a Duluth police officer watching her from an unmarked police vehicle. She waved. He knew her.

 

It was after ten o’clock, but there were lights on inside the apartment. When there was no answer, she rang the bell again. This time, she saw Tish through the window as she came to the door. She wore a men’s white shirt that draped to the middle of her thighs. Her legs were bare. Tish opened the door, and tobacco wafted from her breath and clothes into the hot night air. The smell of smoke was mixed with the tart aroma of gin. Tish leaned against the doorway and picked at strands of her blond hair.

 

“Serena Dial,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

 

Tish gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “Okay.”

 

She turned away and wandered toward the rear of her condo. Serena came inside, closing the door behind her. The condo was sparsely decorated, without artwork on the white walls or curtains on the windows. The cream carpet under her feet was deep and lush, but the rental furniture was utilitarian. Serena saw a glass dining room table that doubled as a desk, where Tish kept her laptop and research notes. The kitchen counter was clean except for an empty box from a Lean Cuisine TV dinner and two drained bottles of Schweppes tonic.

 

She followed Tish onto the balcony. Tish sat in a folding chair, with her legs propped on the slats of the wooden railing. She had a drink in her hand and a cigarette smoldering in an ashtray on the floor. Her shirt slipped up, revealing a triangle of white bikini panties. Serena leaned on the balcony, which looked out on the black expanse of the lake. There was almost no bluff below them, just sixty feet of air and then dark water. Everything was calm, without even a breath of wind to stir the heat around.

 

Tish flicked a mosquito off her forearm. “I read about you,” she said.

 

“Oh?”

 

“I read about that guy who came after you last winter. You almost died.”

 

“You’re right. So?”

 

“That must have been terrifying.”

 

“It was.”

 

“I don’t think I would have survived an experience like that.”

 

“I don’t like to talk about it,” Serena said.

 

“Sure, I understand.” Tish added, “You know, when I first met you, I didn’t like you. I’m not sure I would have liked anyone that Stride was with.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Loyalty to Cindy, I guess.”

 

“And now?” Serena asked.

 

“Now I see that there’s a lot more to you than I realized.”

 

“How often does a girl get a compliment like that?” Serena said wryly.

 

“I just mean that when people meet you, I guess they don’t always see past the face and the killer body.”

 

“This body has a couple more pounds on it than I’d like.”

 

“You don’t have to be modest. Anyway, I shouldn’t have prejudged you. I’m sorry.”

 

“Apology accepted,” Serena said. “But I need to tell you something.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“Stride and I have a lot in common. He may not show it the way I do, but we’re both damaged. Losing Cindy damaged him a lot.”

 

“I’m sure it did.”

 

“I don’t like seeing that pain dragged up for him again,” Serena said.

 

“You mean me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re honest.”

 

“What about you, Tish? Are
you
honest?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I mean, did you really know Cindy?” Serena asked. “Or are you making it up? Because as far as I can tell, there’s no evidence that you ever even met Cindy. So if you’re playing games with us, I’m telling you right now that I will make you regret it.”

 

“I did know her.”

 

“Then why did she never mention you to Jonny?”

 

“Even the most loyal of women has secrets.” Tish picked up her cigarette with two fingers. “Don’t you keep secrets about yourself?”