"No, I don't think so. I think you've always been in school when I've come here."
"It's not in very good shape, is it?"
Heather laughed. "No, it's not."
"Can I look around?"
"Sure. But don't go inside the barn. It's not safe."
"It looks like the kind of place that could be haunted," Lissa said. "What do you think?"
"It might be," Heather told her.
"How do you know about this place?" Lissa asked.
Heather smiled. "I used to come out here when I was a teenager. A lot of us kids did."
"What did you do here?" Lissa asked.
"We just explored a lot. Like you."
There was no need to explain the real reason. Back then, she and dozens of other Duluth teenagers came out here to have sex. It was the hottest make-out spot in the county. It got so bad that there was even a secret sign-up sheet passed around school, to make sure there weren't too many people parked out behind the barn at any one time. Heather's first sexual experience had been out at the barn, in the back of a pickup truck, under the stars.
She wondered if today's students used the barn. There were still plenty of overlapping tire tracks leading around back. She also saw empty beer bottles littering the field. If she looked hard enough, she would probably find used condoms.
Heather looked down at Lissa again. "Don't you pick anything up, either."
Lissa frowned. "Well, that's no fun."
Heather softened. "You can pick up rocks and sticks, but no people things, okay? If you don't know what it is, don't touch it."
Lissa shrugged. "Okay."
Mother and daughter separated. Heather kept an eye on Lissa as she wandered into the brush. Satisfied that the girl was okay, Heather began scoping out her shot, tramping in the field to find an angle that satisfied her. When she settled on a location and began her setup, she saw Lissa dart behind the barn.
"Be careful back there," Heather shouted. Lissa called something in reply, which Heather couldn't hear.
She knelt down, looking through the camera's viewfinder, seeing the image in the frame take shape. The sun, behind her, was approaching the level of the tallest trees. Heather felt a jittery jumping in her stomach and a quiver in her fingers, the way she always did when she knew she was going to get exactly what she wanted. She took a few seconds to measure the light again and adjust the exposure. Then, ready at last, she squeezed the shutter, then again, and again, hearing the motorized whir as the film advanced each time.
"Mommy!" Lissa shouted from behind the barn. "Come look at this!"
"In a minute, sweetheart," Heather called back.
"Look, look, look," Lissa cried. She came running from behind the barn.
"Lissa, Mommy's busy now. What is it?"
"Look what I found. Isn't it pretty?"
Heather looked away from the camera long enough to notice Lissa holding a gold bracelet. "Where did you find that, sweetheart?"
"Behind the barn."
Heather frowned. "Didn't I tell you not to pick things up? People things?"
"Well, yes, but this is different," Lissa argued.
"How is it different?"
"It's not dangerous or anything. It's just a bracelet."
"Yes, and it's a bracelet that belongs to somebody else, who's probably going to come looking for it," Heather said. "Now put it back where you found it."
"You mean I can't keep it?"
Heather sighed. It was always this way with Lissa and jewelry. "No, you can't keep it. It belongs to someone else. Put it back right now."
"I don't think they'd want it anymore," Lissa complained. "It's all dirty."
"Well, then, why do you want it?"
Lissa didn't have an immediate answer. She thought about it. "I could clean it up," she said.
"And so could the person who owns it. Now no more arguing. Put it back."
Lissa gave up fighting and walked away unhappily, back toward the rear of the barn. Relieved, Heather turned her attention back to her camera. She looked through the viewfinder again.
Perfect.
Behind the barn, Lissa reluctantly put the bracelet back where she found it, which was in a muddy patch near the edge of the field. It didn't really seem fair, though. She didn't believe that anyone would be coming back for it.
"But Mommy said so," Lissa murmured to herself.
After putting it back, Lissa continued exploring. She already had a successful collection, including several interesting rocks and pretty blue flowers, all of which were stuffed in her coat pockets. She wasn't aware of time passing. It seemed only an instant later that she looked up and realized the sun had dipped below the trees.
Just then, she heard her mother calling. "Lissa, come on, it's time to go!"
For once, Lissa didn't need to be told twice. She started running out of the field toward the barn again. As she did, she had to pass right by the puddle, where the bracelet was.
"Lissa!" her mother called again.
Lissa thought about it. She really wanted that bracelet, and it was pretty careless of whoever owned it to leave it here. Besides, she could keep it and clean it up, and if the owner ever wanted it, she would be keeping it safe and sound. And she still thought maybe the person had simply thrown it away.
Mommy just didn't understand. She didn't like jewelry anyway.
Quickly, Lissa bent down, grabbed the bracelet, and crammed it deep into her pocket. "I'm coming," she called, and ran for the front of the barn.
PART TWO
8
Bird Finch paced the shadows of the studio, lifting his stilt-like legs over the cables stretched across the floor. No one talked to him. They had all learned long ago that Bird never said a word in the last few minutes before a live broadcast. He was too high. His emotions were churning. He was psyching himself up.
Tonight the ratings would be sky-high again.
After three weeks of courting them since Rachel's disappearance, he had landed the first live interview with Graeme and Emily Stoner. For the first time, they were ready to talk about losing their girl. And they wouldn't be alone. Joining them on the set was another grieving family, Mike and Barbara McGrath, who had spent more than a year searching fruitlessly for their daughter Kerry. Two families would sit down with him, purge their emotions, and send the police a message.
There's a killer stalking the north shore and snatching teenagers off the street.
Find him.
Bird stopped and crossed his arms. On the brightly lit set, Graeme and Emily Stoner sat in comfortable chairs while two makeup artists fluttered around them, dabbing at their faces. He saw the McGraths walk up to the Stoners and watched the two families exchange awkward greetings.
"Two minutes," a voice on an overhead speaker announced.
Bird emerged out of the darkness of the studio and crossed the set with the grace of a large cat. He stood like a black tower over his guests, who stared up at him from their four chairs. He smiled at them, revealing paper-white teeth against his black skin. He grabbed each of their hands in turn in a crushing handshake.
"I want to thank all of you for joining me tonight," he told them in a sober, rumbling voice, which he reserved for victims. "I can only imagine how hard this is for each of you. But it's so very important that the rest of the people in this state hear your story. And, God willing, maybe your voices can reach out to your girls, or to whoever stole them away from you."
"That's very kind of you, Mr. Finch," Barbara McGrath said.
"Mr. and Mrs. Stoner, I will do everything I can to put you at ease," he said. "I don't want you thinking about the camera. Just talk to me. Tell me your story."
Bird squeezed his tall body into his usual chair. He rubbed one hand back over his shaved scalp and glanced at his suit to make sure his pockets, handkerchief, and cuffs were in place. He cleared his throat and draped one bent arm over the left side of the chair.