Do it, he told them. Do whatever you have to.
Stride nodded. Angela, can you tell us if anything happened tonight?
The girl had been crying. She tugged at her shirt and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. I got a couple hangup calls on my cell phone.
When was this?
I dont know. Sometime after midnight.
What did you do?
I turned on the light. The calls woke me up. I looked out the window, but I didnt see anybody. Its not like I could really see anything with all the rain, though.
Has this happened before? Maggie asked.
Angela nodded. Yeah, two or three times. Always at night. I just figured it was somebody with a wrong number, you know? I knew one of the other girls at school who got peeped, but I never thought about it happening to me.
Someone will come by tomorrow to take a full statement from you, Stride said.
Maggie put a hand on the girls knee. You should talk to someone, Angela. Its natural for girls who experience something like this to be frightened. You shouldnt deal with it alone.
Angela shrugged and hid a little deeper inside her mothers arms.
Well get her help, her father said.
Stride and Maggie left the family and returned to the pounding rain outside the house. Both of them switched on flashlights and swept the beams like searchlights ahead of them as they made their way to the backyard. The grass was sodden under their feet. Streams poured out of the swollen gutters. Behind the house, the lot was large and flat and dotted with evergreens. Stride could see the next street more than a hundred feet away. As he shined his flashlight through the grass, pools of standing water glistened back at him.
The room on the corner was Angelas bedroom. The light was on, and the blinds were shut. Stride examined the grass underneath her window.
Nothing, he said.
Maybe the rain washed away his footprints, Maggie replied.
Stride shook his head. He cant have been this close. If he was standing here, she would have seen him.
He examined the rest of the yard. Lightning turned the night to day for an instant. Stride saw disarray in the wet ground, twenty feet from Angelas window. He used the flashlight to guide his footsteps to a soggy patch of mud and lawn beneath one of the fir trees, where tree roots bulged from the wet soil. In the cone of light, he saw a mess of footprints and crushed grass.
Maggie bent down and studied the overlapping tread marks. Two different sets, she said. Looks like a fight.
Stride spotted a single line of tracks leading away from the scene toward the street. He followed them with his flashlight. Where they passed through a bare patch of dirt, the prints in the mud were deep and clear.
He was carrying someone, Stride said, pointing to where the heel marks sank like weights into the soft earth.
I think were running out of time, boss, Maggie said.
They followed the footprints to the street, where they disappeared. Water overflowed from the sewers and poured along the curb in a river. Stride wiped rain from his eyes. He jogged to the vacant lot on the opposite side of the block to see if the footprints started again, but he couldnt find the trail. Clark and Finn had both vanished.
Stride gestured to Maggie, pointing her to the south, while he followed the street to the north, running down the middle where the flooding was lightest. Twin rivers surged through the gutters. He used intermittent bursts of lightning to see between the houses and down the long stretches of asphalt. Each subsequent drumbeat of thunder was closer and longer. The storm was getting worse, not better, and the atmosphere felt violent around him, as if the pressure in the air were building toward an explosion. Wet cold worked its way inside his bones. Trees bowed over his head with the rotating winds, and when he stopped in the dead center of an intersection where two wide streets met, he felt small.
Another branch of lightning cut open the sky, looking like a hangman drawn by a child. Right then and there, Stride saw it. Three blocks away, glinting in the white light, was a silver RAV, parked under the sagging branches of an elm tree. He splashed through deep water. His feet sloshed inside his boots. As he got closer, he saw Maggie, sprinting for the RAV from the opposite direction. They arrived at almost the same time and
slowed to study the ground around the truck. Both of them shot their flashlight beams inside the RAV, expecting to see Finns body slumped in back. Instead, the truck was empty.
Finn never made it back here, Maggie said.
Did you spot Clarks truck?
She shook her head and got down on her knees. Hang on, theres something caught under the tire.
Stride saw it, too. Maggie reached around beneath the chassis of the RAV and extracted something white from under the rubber of the tire. When she held it up, they saw that it was a wallet-sized photograph, dirty and wet. She illuminated it with the beam of her flashlight.
Its Clark and Mary Biggs, she said.
Do you think he left it there for us?
Maggie shook her head. It probably fell out of his pocket.
If Clark grabbed Finn, where would he take him? Stride asked.
I dont know. Unless he already killed Finn and dumped the body somewhere else.
Stride put himself in the shoes of a despondent father, confronting the man who had driven his daughter to her death. I think if he was going to kill him, hed have done it outside Angelas window.
Ill get more cars on the street, but were at a dead end.
What about Perch Lake Park? Stride asked. Thats where the girl died.
That was my first thought, but the parking lot was empty, Maggie said. Ive got a car waiting in case he shows up.
What about Donna? She might know where Clark would go.
Maggie nodded. Ill call her.
She reached into her pocket for her phone, then stopped. Wait a minute, she said, shining a light on the picture again. Where do you think this photograph was taken?
Stride leaned closer. Its a beach somewhere around here. Probably along the Point. You can see the lake in the background.
Were not too far from the Wisconsin Point, are we?
Its just a few miles to the south.
Maggie shoved the photograph in her pocket. Clark told me that he used to take Mary out to the Point. It was one of their favorite places.
You think thats where he took Finn?
Its isolated, its close by, it reminds him of Mary.
That sounds like our best bet, Stride said.
How fast can you go? Maggie asked.
43
___________
Clark dragged Finns body one-handed through the wet sand by the belt tied around the mans ankles. In his other hand, he dangled the baseball bat over his shoulder. As the uneven ground jolted Finns body, the bound man awakened and began to struggle, clawing at the mud for traction with his fingers. He spat out grass and dirt from his mouth and screamed. Clark ignored his cries, which were drowned out by the ferocious wailing of the wind and the beating of lake waves against the shore.
The beach was a long, lonely strip of sand and trees. The sky belched out rain and blinded him with a near-continuous chain of lightning flashes. Somewhere, he could smell wood burning, where electricity had blasted through bark and roots. The thunder was so near and loud that he felt the earth tremble under his feet. If he had believed in God, Clark would have believed that God was angry, but he had given up his faith long ago. He had stopped believing on that day when Mary first went into the water and came out a ghost of who she had once been.
There was no God, he realized then. No mercy.
Clark was not prepared to show any mercy tonight.
He dropped Finn in the empty center of the beach, where a fat, bleached
tree trunk had washed up after months rolling and floating on the surface of the lake. It was bare and white, pockmarked with insect holes drilled into its wood. He grabbed a fistful of Finns shirt and propped him with his back against the tree trunk. Blood trickled down Finns face where brambles and rocks had scraped open his skin, but the rain quickly washed it away. Finns ankles strained at the belt that secured them, and his muscles twitched with fear.
Who are you? Finn asked. He was practically screaming, but his voice was a whisper.
You killed my daughter, Clark said.
Finn gazed in horror at Clark, who was as big and broad as a bear. He read the hardness of Clarks face and knew immediately who Clark was and what Clark planned to do. Finns torso slid off the tree trunk, and he crawled away, dragging his feet behind him, his body flopping like a fish on the bottom of a boat. Clark took two steps and yanked him back by the collar of his shirt. When Finn was upright again, Clark drove the head of the bat like a spear into Finns stomach, so hard that blood and stomach juices spewed from Finns mouth. When Finn took a breath, there was nothing in his lungs, and his fingers clutched the sand in panic as he gasped for air. Tears mingled with the rain on his face.
Clark thought he would take more satisfaction in Finns pain, but he didnt. He was as lifeless as the huge piece of driftwood where Finn sat.
Thirty feet away, sweeping waves broke across a black mirror of surf and slid almost to Clarks boots. Foam flew up in a white curtain that was as tall as he was. When the water receded across the slick sand, he saw glints of quartz. If he looked hard enough, he could see Mary here as a young girl, her feet slapping through the pools and streams. He could watch the summer sun as it kissed her hair. Hear her squeals of delight. Feel the strength of her damp arms as she hugged him.
No, Daddy, she whispered to him again. Urgently.
Clark forced her ghost away. There were some things a child didnt understand. There were some things a father has to do.
Im sorry, baby
.
He clutched the bat with both hands and held it the way a baseball player would, with tight, thick fingers on the grainy wood. Finns lips formed the word
No
, but nothing came out of his chest. Clark unleashed the bat in a fierce arc and whipped it into the meat of Finns shoulder.
Bones cracked. Muscle tore. Finns body rose off the sand and landed in a sprawl four feet away. He curled his limbs together like a baby. His eyes were closed. He wailed.
Clark still felt nothing. He was impervious. Dead.
He retrieved Finn and propped him up again. The mans collarbone jutted out from his neck like a chicken bone snapped in half. Finns skin was white.
Stop, he begged Clark. Please stop. Im so sorry.
You dont deserve to live.
I know.
Clark squatted down inches from Finns face. You took away my whole life. Everything I am, everything Ive done, it was all for that little girl. When you killed her, I died. Understand? Im dead right now because of what you did. And what was she to you? Tell me, what right did you have to be a part of her life?
Mucus dripped out of Finns nose. His lips trembled. I never meant for anything to happen. Im so sorry she died. I only wanted to talk to her. I never touched her.
You stood outside my little girls window, Clark said. Did you see her naked?
Finn was silent.
Answer me.
Yes.
Did you take pictures of her?
Yes.
What else?
Finn shut his mouth again.
Goddamn it, what else?
Did you jerk off? Is that what you did while staring at my little girl?
Yes. Oh, Jesus, Im sorry, yes.
Clark stood up again with terrible purpose.
No, no, no
, Finn screamed, but it was too late. Clark swung again, connecting with the soft side of Finns knee, hearing it pop as the femur and tibia tore apart. Finn held on to his leg as if he could make the pain stop by covering it up. The sounds from his throat were guttural, like an animals. He writhed on the ground. Clark took a heavy breath and walked
away, letting the rain and wind pour over him. He wandered into the surf and let the waves splash around his legs, so fierce that they almost toppled him. God was definitely angry now. The lightning was a white strobe light, flashing in his face, knifing across half the sky.
Finn shouted. Kill me! For Gods sake, just
kill me
.
Clark heard Mary again, as if she were right there, tugging at his arm, pleading for attention. No, Daddy, no.
Im sorry, baby
. No mercy.
Except now the merciful thing would be to end it. There was that time when his truck had sideswiped a huge buck, and he found it in the deep weeds on the shoulder of the highway, twitching, in agony, dying slowly. He couldnt drive away and leave it there. Donna was in the truck, and he made her stay inside and not watch. Then he retrieved a rifle from the tailgate and shot the deer in the brain.
An act of mercy.
Clark marched out of the surf. He came up behind Finn, not in front. Finn felt him there but didnt try to turn around. Clark could see the mans chest heaving in and out. The bald pate of Finns skull was like a melon balanced on the tree trunk. Clark knew it would take one swing of the bat to end it. To end both their lives. One millisecond of pain and light to put Finn, Mary, and himself out of their shared agony.
