“Finn!” she shouted, but her brother didn’t react.
Stride pointed behind Finn, gesturing toward Rikke. When Finn didn’t move, Stride took two careful steps backward, giving him space. He pointed and gestured again. Finally, with a painful flick of his head, Finn turned and saw his sister.
“Everybody stay where you are,” Stride called.
Finn swung the barrel of the gun to his left, and Stride understood. Finn wanted him and Rikke both in his line of sight. Stride debated standing still, but then took slow sideways steps down the beach until Finn could watch the two of them without turning his head.
Rikke’s eyes were locked on Finn. When she took a step toward him, Finn immediately raised the Glock and jammed the barrel into the side of his own head. His finger was tight on the trigger.
“Easy,” Stride told her.
“This is between him and me, Lieutenant,” Rikke said. She took another step, and Finn shook his head violently and shoved the barrel harder against his skin.
“He’s not kidding,” Stride warned her.
“I know what he needs,” Rikke said.
Her fingers came together, meeting at the first button on her shirt, which she undid. Finn’s eyes followed, wide and staring. She separated another button and pulled the flaps of her shirt apart, revealing a V of white skin. Finn inhaled loudly through his nose. His entire body trembled, as if he were wracked with chills. His mouth fell open, and he drew the gun slowly away from his head.
“I’m sorry for what she did to us,” Rikke told Finn. “I’m sorry for what we became.”
Rikke detached the rest of the buttons, letting the flaps dangle, and then used her fingernails to push the collar back off her shoulders until the shirt slid off her arms and fluttered to the ground. Her stomach bulged over the waist of her shorts. Her left breast drooped like an underfilled water balloon, its nipple flat and pale pink. Her other breast was a wrinkled cross of scars.
She sank to her knees and spread her arms wide, beckoning Finn to her bare skin. She was crying. He was crying. Finn made a mewling noise like a trapped kitten and sloughed his body toward her.
They were almost touching when another wrenching, involuntary spasm shuddered through his body. His finger twitched on the trigger.
The gun was still pointed at the meat of his skull.
Finn’s expression turned to glass as the bullet tunneled through his brain. Fire and noise cracked open the beach. Rikke wailed, and Stride saw one last flashback of Ray Wallace’s face before he was jolted back to the present, where Finn slumped forward, lifeless and free.
PART FIVE. Fear of Heights
46
Serena stood apart from the cluster of mourners while they prepared to bury Finn Mathisen in the Riverside Cemetery. She tugged her trench coat tighter. Her black hair swished around her face. They were beyond the southern edge of Superior, out past the railroad tracks and landfill, in sloping fields dotted with pines whose branches reached for the gray sky like praying angels. Water gurgled over stones in a creek beside the path. The lawn was lush and neatly trimmed.
She stood fifty feet away from the ceremony, beside one of the larger marble headstones on the wooded slope. Finn didn’t have a big crowd. Rikke was there, ramrod straight, her face a severe mask. Everyone kept their distance from her. Serena didn’t recognize the dozen or so strangers, but she saw Jonny, Maggie, and Tish standing in a trio. She knew she should be at Jonny’s side, but she had never met Finn or Rikke and didn’t want to intrude on anyone’s grief. The truth was that it gave her a convenient excuse to be far away. She liked cemeteries but hated funerals. She didn’t mind death but hated dying. If something had to end, she simply wanted it to be over.
Serena heard footsteps behind her and was surprised to see Peter Stanhope. The lawyer’s mane of silver hair barely moved in the wind. His lip showed a reddened scar.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Serena told him.
Peter stood beside her and made no effort to get any closer to the funeral. “I suppose I feel responsible.”
“Why?”
“Because I sent you off to expose Finn’s secrets, and now he’s dead.”
“Don’t blame yourself,” Serena told him. “Finn’s probably better off this way.”
“That’s true.”
Serena turned and met his eyes with her own. “That doesn’t mean you walk away with a clean conscience, Peter. There’s still Laura and what you did to her.”
“You mean the stalking? I already told you that I was a crass, stupid kid.”
“Don’t make it sound like you were a boy stealing gum from a drugstore. You tried to rape that girl.”
Peter rubbed the scar on his lip. “So that’s it? You’ve decided I’m a monster?”
“I don’t know what you are.”
“And that means you can’t work with me?” he asked. “You’re turning down the job because of a mistake I made as a teenager?”
Serena looked up at the profiles of the trees, which were like spiny bottlebrushes. She heard the murmur of solemn voices near the grave. “I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter if it was yesterday or 1977. The answer is no. Keep your job, Peter. I don’t want it.”
“You’re walking away from a lot of money.”
“It’s not about the money,” Serena said.
“I thought you were different. I expected better from you.”
Serena shrugged. “Well, don’t let me spoil your moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is your independence day,” Serena said. “With Finn dead, Laura’s case dies with him.”
Peter nodded. “Okay, yes, it worked out fine for me, but I’m not getting a free ride. I didn’t kill anyone.”
“No?” Her voice betrayed her suspicion.
“You sound as paranoid as Tish,” Peter said.
“Your own father didn’t believe you,” Serena told him.
Peter’s eyes turned black. “He was never my biggest fan. I told Randall I didn’t kill her, but he knew what happened between me and Laura in the softball field. I suppose he figured I was a liar. Or maybe it was all about protecting the Stanhope name. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. The easiest thing for Stride and Pat Burns and everyone else in Duluth is to believe that Finn swung that bat. Just like it was the easy thing back in 1977 to assume that Dada killed her. We believe whatever makes us feel safe.”
“Aren’t you afraid of what Tish will say in her book?” Serena asked.
Peter studied Tish, who stood next to Stride among the people near the wooden coffin. It was as if she could feel eyes on her back, because she turned and saw Serena and Peter standing together up the hill. Her lips folded into a frown.
“Tish can write what she wants,” Peter said. “I don’t care. Sometimes the easy explanation is the right one, Serena. Finn was in love with Laura, and Laura didn’t want him. So he decided that no one else was going to have her, either.”
“Except some people might think you felt the same way,” Serena said.
“Maybe I did, but Laura’s big mistake wasn’t saying no to me.”
“Then what was it?”
“It was letting Rikke get her tangled up with Finn. That was like buying a ticket to a house of horrors.”
He nodded his head toward Finn’s sister, who stood with her hand resting on the coffin, but with her face turned toward Tish. Serena could see fury in the woman’s taut skin. Her eyes never left Tish, and Tish stared at the ground rather than look up at her.
“Rikke knows what Finn did,” Peter said.
Serena pursed her lips and thought about the macabre striptease that Stride had described on the beach between Finn and his sister.
“Finn and Rikke were a strange family,” she agreed.
“You’re right, but don’t forget one thing,” Peter told her.
“What’s that?”
“Back in 1977, Laura was in the middle of that family.”
47
&
nbsp; Stride and Serena led a parade of cars away from the cemetery. They headed north on Tower Avenue and turned into the parking lot of a bookstore and cafй where they often stopped for soup and coffee when they were on the east side of the Twin Ports. Maggie followed them into the lot, and so did Tish. The four of them went inside together, where nutmeg and blueberries wafted in the air. Amanda, who ran the store, waved at them and broke off from the stacks of books long enough to get a hug from Stride.
They took chairs in the cafй at a table by the window. Stride leaned his head against the wall. The sky through the glass was gray and burgundy, as dusk sped quickly into night.
“What can I get everyone?” Maggie asked.
Stride shrugged. “Coffee.”
“You, boss? Plain old coffee? I figured you for a moka-loco apple fritter latte.”
Stride gave her a withering stare.
“How about you, Serena?” Maggie asked. “You want to join me in a chai tea?”
“I’d love one, but you may as well take a hypo and shoot it into my thighs. Get me a bottled water.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Tish?”
“Nothing, thanks. I have to head to the airport soon.”
Maggie sighed and went to the cafй register. She placed their order and wandered over to the books counter to chat with Amanda.
“How’s the book coming?” Serena asked Tish.
“It’s almost done.”
Tish tugged nervously at the sleeves of her burgundy blouse. Her blond hair was pulled back away from her face and pinned behind her head.
“Do you leave tonight?”
Tish nodded. “My suitcase is in the car.” She added, “I suppose you’ll both be happy to see me go.”
Stride and Serena didn’t say anything.
“When I came here, I didn’t really think about what would happen,” Tish went on. “I was naive. I should have listened to you.”
She waited, but the silence stretched out.
“I know you feel bad about Clark Biggs,” Tish told Stride. “And Finn, too.”
“I don’t think you know how I feel at all,” Stride replied.
He saw the cafй manager put their drinks on the counter, and he retrieved his mug of coffee and Serena’s bottle of water and sat down again. When he took a sip, the coffee was smoky and hot. Over Tish’s shoulder, he spotted movement in the foyer and was surprised to see Rikke Mathisen enter the store from the parking lot. Her upper lip was sucked between her teeth. She saw them in the corner, and her stare lingered with venom before she disappeared into a row of biographies in the bookstore.
They sat in silence.
“Maybe I should go,” Tish said finally.
Stride shrugged. “Then go.”
“I know you blame me,” Tish said. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then explain it to me.”
Stride put his coffee down and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Do I think things might have been different if you had been honest with me? Yes. Do I think things might have been different if you had come forward when Laura was murdered? Yes. But I don’t know any of that for sure. The truth is, I had no idea Finn was involved until you came to town. I didn’t know anything about the murder of his mother. He was sick. He was desperate. A combination like that can leave someone dead. So no, I don’t blame you for what happened to Finn. And Clark Biggs? That’s a tragedy, but he put himself on that beach. I didn’t. You didn’t.”
Tish folded her arms. “So what is it then?”
“Oh, come on, Tish,” Serena murmured.
Tish looked at her and understood. “Cindy.”
“I’d like to know why she never told me about you,” Stride said.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say.”
Stride scowled and stared at the night sky outside. “I deserve more than that.”
“I know you do.” He watched the struggle in her face. “Look, please don’t blame Cindy. Blame me. When we reconnected, I asked her not to tell you about me. I knew you’d find out that I was in Duluth that night. Cindy didn’t want to keep secrets from you, but you weren’t just her husband. You were a cop. She couldn’t ask you to ignore it if you knew. You’d have to be on my doorstep the next day, and I wasn’t ready for that. It was something I needed to come to in my own time.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it.” Tish clutched her purse and stood up. “I really have to go to the airport. I’m grateful to you, Jon. You could have shut me out. I would have understood if you did.”
She turned for the door, and Stride got up and walked beside her. His hands were in his pockets. He escorted her as far as the outer door that led to the parking lot and opened it so she could pass him. The warm air spilled in with the breeze.
“We’re alone,” Stride said. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”
“There’s nothing,” she replied.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Stride frowned. “Good-bye, Tish.”
She took a step closer. Her eyes reminded him of Cindy’s eyes again. She laid a soft hand on his face. “You know that Cindy loved you, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Then nothing else matters, does it?”
Tish backed up awkwardly, tucked her head into her neck, and marched toward her car. Stride let the door swing shut and returned to the interior of the bookstore. Serena was watching him, but he didn’t go back to their table. Instead, he wandered idly down the aisles of the store, occasionally reaching out and touching the spines of books without really seeing them. He tried to understand what he was feeling and decided it was loss. He remembered telling Tish that the one thing he feared in life was endings, and this was a door shutting in his soul.
Maybe, on some level, he had wanted Laura’s murder to remain unsolved. As long as the case was out there, open, then Cindy would be there, too. She would be young. They would be first-time lovers. Ray would be incorruptible. Life would be a mystery. Now that he had the answers, they didn’t give him peace. They simply left him mourning another ending.
Or was it something more than that?
He spied Rikke near the lobby of the bookstore. She stared at him defiantly before she left the shop. He turned a corner and found himself face to face with Maggie and Amanda, who were poring over a book on child rearing. Maggie looked up and read his face.
“You okay?” she asked.
Stride shrugged and shook his head. Maggie squeezed his shoulder.
He pointed at the book she was holding. “What’s this about?”
Maggie shared a secret glance with Amanda. “Think I should tell him?”
Amanda laughed. “Oh, why not.”
“I’m going for it,” Maggie told Stride. “I’ve decided to pursue the adoption thing all the way. I don’t care what it takes. I want a kid.”
Stride smiled. “Good for you, Mags. I couldn’t be happier for you. Really.”
“I just hope it’s a boy.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Are you kidding? Me with a little girl? That poor kid would be scarred for life having a parent like me. I couldn’t do that to a child.”
Amanda rolled her eyes. “He’s a man, darling,” she said, with a British accent full of exasperation. “He doesn’t understand the curse we women face and the terrible legacy we pass on to our daughters.”
“Curse?” Stride asked.
Maggie spread her hands, as if it were obvious.
“Sooner or later, we’re all destined to become our mothers,” Amanda whispered in his ear.
Stride grunted and decided this was a conversation that didn’t need a man in it. He turned away to let Maggie and Amanda continue talking about mothers and daughters, and then he froze in his tracks. He spun around so quickly that both women jumped.
“What did you say?”
Tish reached behind her head and undid
her ponytail, letting her blond hair blow loosely in the warm wind. Her leather purse dangled from her shoulder. She was angry at herself and felt guilty for walking away. When she gazed at the back-and-forth parade of traffic on the street, she almost turned around and went back inside the store. The letter from Cindy was inside her purse, and she knew she should give it to Stride. She owed it to both of them, but she felt as if she were on a high bridge, paralyzed as she looked down. She couldn’t face the truth.
She unlocked her car and got inside. She threw her purse on the opposite seat and put the key in the ignition, but she sat there without moving or starting the car, wrestling with whether she should stay. If she went to the airport and got on the flight to Minneapolis, she knew she would never come back to Duluth. Not ever.
Maybe it had been a huge mistake to come back in the first place.
Tish turned the key, and the engine fired. She put the Civic in reverse, but when she backed up, she heard metal grinding on asphalt and felt the car lurch as if it were bouncing over something heavy. She stopped, shut off the engine again, and climbed out, leaving the driver’s door open. When she went around to the front of the car, she cursed, seeing the hood slumped to one side. Through the glare of the headlights, she saw that the right front tire was flat on the ground.
“Oh, hell,” she murmured.
She squatted by the tire and checked her watch. She knew nothing about changing tires, and she had no idea if there was a service station nearby. The answer was obvious. Go get Stride. Even so, she hesitated to see him again when she had just shut the door in his face.
Tish got up, turned around, and screamed.
Rikke Mathisen stood directly behind her, so close that their bodies were nearly touching.
“Are you having problems?” Rikke asked.
Tish backed up to give herself space. “Flat tire,” she said.
Rikke towered over her by nearly a foot. Her eyes flicked to the disabled tire, and her face was impassive. “Do you need to be somewhere?”
“I’m heading to the airport.”
In the Dark aka The Watcher Page 32
