In the mists of her brain, she was with Tish on a beach. A cool breeze kissed their bodies. She came upon Tish from behind, caressing the down of her neck. The bones of Tish’s spine traveled like the graceful arch of a harp into the small of her back. Her flesh was young and soft, and Serena felt no guilt, only freedom, as they began to make love. Later, after they were done, she found herself in water, floating, alone. It was paradise, except for a strange, rhythmic thumping that wormed into the stillness of her world and unnerved her. Like a drumbeat or a heartbeat. She felt herself coming naked out of the water, and what she saw was Jonny, covered in blood, swinging a baseball bat with a sucking thwack over and over into a body on the beach. Killing Tish.
Serena started awake, gasping for breath.
Jonny was awake, too, and staring at her. “You okay?”
She shook the sleep out of her head and blinked. “Yeah. What time is it?”
“Almost three.”
“I’m hungry,” Serena said.
“What would you like?”
Serena thought about her diet. “Forty-six eggs.”
“Do you want those scrambled or fried?”
“Don’t tease me. You think I’m kidding?”
Stride gestured at the narrow, heavy box she had left on the dining room table. “What’s that?”
“I picked up something of yours at the lost and found.”
His eyes narrowed with concern and curiosity.
“The bat,” she said simply.
He looked at her. “Stanhope?”
She nodded.
“That son of a bitch,” he said.
Serena knew he wasn’t talking about Peter Stanhope. He was talking about Ray Wallace. Ray, who had sabotaged a murder investigation for money and power. Ray, who had handed over the murder weapon to a man he suspected of committing the crime.
Stride went to the table. He didn’t touch the box immediately. Instead, he studied it closely, as if the cardboard, ink, and tape would talk to him. He bent down close to it, as if the smell of blood would still permeate the air. Then, using two fingers on each corner, he lifted it, measuring its heft.
“Peter called it a goodwill gesture,” Serena said. “He didn’t have to give it to me. He could have destroyed it.” She added, “He admitted that he was the one who sent those threatening letters to Laura.”
“He admitted it because we’ll find out anyway when we run the DNA, right?”
“Right.”
“Just when I’m convinced Finn is guilty, Peter elbows his way back onto the playing field,” Stride said.
“He says he’s innocent.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know, but I think it helps for me to stay close to him. He talks to me.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Nothing I can share right now, but nothing you wouldn’t guess anyway.”
“He assaulted Laura in the softball field,” Stride said. “There was no date, no affair.”
“No comment.”
Stride put the bat down. “Logically, everything points to Peter. She was killed with his bat, and he’s had the murder weapon for years. If it weren’t for Finn, I’d be certain that Peter killed her. Not that we’d be any closer to making a case.”
“Peter wants me to gather evidence against Finn,” Serena said.
“Are you going to do it?”
“I think so.”
“You may be helping the man who’s really guilty.”
“I know.”
“But you can’t resist the chase?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Rikke has shut Finn down,” Stride said. “She’s hired a lawyer. You can’t talk to her.”
“I’ve got a different angle,” Serena said.
“Oh?”
“I want to go to North Dakota tomorrow. I want to find out about Finn’s childhood. Tish said something terrible happened to him there. I’d like to find out what. Maybe that’s the missing link.”
“Take Maggie with you,” Stride suggested. “I’d like to have someone official on the trip.”
“You mean five hours each way arguing with Maggie about the radio station? We’ll kill each other.”
Stride laughed. “So take a private plane. Stanhope can afford it.”
“True.”
“We better get some sleep,” he said.
“To hell with sleep.”
Serena got up lazily from the love seat. She brushed her black hair back away from her face. Holding onto Stride’s shoulders, she straddled him on the sofa, with her knees on either side of his legs and her breasts near his lips. His hands slid behind her and cupped her buttocks through her panties. She put her hands on his face, bent her neck forward, and kissed him.
“I dreamed that you caught me sleeping with Tish and you beat her to death. You murdering bastard.”
“Tell me more,” he said.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
“You’re a tease.”
“Do you find Tish attractive?” she asked him.
“Pretty, but not my type,” he said.
“Are you thinking about her or me right now?” she asked, pressing down with her hips.
“You.”
“Good answer.”
The phone rang.
“God hates me,” Serena said, rolling to her left and studying the caller ID screen on the receiver. “Private call.”
“Wrong number.”
“Ignore it?”