47
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.