The Burying Place

'You woke up my mama,' she told him, her voice cross.

'You didn't answer.'

'I thought it was that damn chica from the papers. Blair Rowe. She's been hassling me all weekend. Did you tell her about me?'

'No.'

'Well, she found out anyway. I'm fucked.'

'I need to talk to you, Micki,' Stride said.

'Talk about what?'

'Callie Glenn.'

'I already told you everything I know, which ain't much. Leave me alone, OK?'

'I have more questions. Can I come inside?'

'Hell, no. I don't want you bothering my mama.'

'Then put on some clothes and come out here.'

Micki scowled. 'Whatever.'

He waited for her in the middle of the dirt road. Through the slanted trunks of the birch trees, he could see the slope of the Sago Cemetery fifty yards away. Dots of snow flurries drifted in the air and landed on his skin in cold flecks. It was a quiet morning, with almost no wind. The trees seemed to be holding their breath.

Micki joined him two minutes later. She'd shoved her feet into boots, and she wore a blue down coat. Her black hair spilled messily over the collar. She took bites from a bagel and a crispy piece of bacon.

'So what do you want?' she demanded, her mouth full.

'I know about your baby,' he said.

Micki blanched. She stopped chewing, and a few crumbs clung to the side of her mouth, which she wiped with her sleeve. Her cheeks flushed with anger. 'Fuck you. That's private.' 'Callie Glenn is missing, and now I find out that you had a baby that no one knows about. Coincidences like that make me suspicious.'

'Who told you?' Micki asked.

'It doesn’t matter.'

'Yeah, nothing matters when you're trailer trash, right? Other people get to scream about their privacy. Not me.'

'Where's your baby?' Stride asked.

'I don't have to tell you a thing.'

'Is he inside the trailer?'

Micki jabbed a finger toward the cemetery. 'He's in the ground. Are you happy?'

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'Tell me what happened.'

'What's to tell? I got knocked up. I couldn't afford the pill, and I was dating a guy who thought rubbers were for homos. I learned my lesson. My knees stay shut from now on.'

'Who was the father?' Stride asked.

'Nobody. Some farm kid.'

'I think it was Marcus Glenn,' he said.

'Dr Glenn? Are you crazy? No way. I told you I'm not sleeping with him.'

'So how did he get involved?'

Micki shoved her hands in her coat pockets. 'When I found out I was pregnant, I didn't know what to do. I don't have any insurance. I wanted to get rid of it, but Mama said that was a sin. So I asked Dr Glenn for help.'

'What did he do?'

'He knew I couldn't go to a hospital, so he arranged for a nurse to come here. She was supposed to deliver the baby, too, but I never made it that far.'

'How far along were you when you lost him?'

'Three months,' Micki said. 'It was just one of those things. I didn't do anything wrong.'

'When was this?'

'Last summer. August.'

'So Valerie Glenn was already pregnant when you miscarried?'

'How should I know? I mean, I guess she was, but I didn't know. Dr Glenn never talked about his wife having a baby.'

'What did you do with your child?' Stride asked.

Micki's eyes flashed. 'I buried him.'

'What about the nurse? What was her name?'

'Nurse Regan. She was a scary bitch to look at, but she was nice. Even after I lost the baby, she came back to help me. My head was all screwed up, and she told me it's normal to feel that way.'

'Did you know that she was having an affair with Dr Glenn?' Stride asked.

Micki looked genuinely shocked. 'Dr Glenn and Nurse Regan? No, I didn't know that.'

'Did you ever see them together?'

'Sure, a couple of times, he drove her here to see me. That doesn’t mean anything.'

'Has Regan Conrad been in touch with you recently?'

'Me? No. Why would she?'

Stride didn't hear a lie in her voice. 'I'm sorry, Micki, that must have been a terrible experience for you.'

She shrugged. 'I was upset, but God calls the shots, not me.'

'Where did you bury your son?' he asked.

'On the other side of the road,' she said after a long pause. 'It happens a lot around cemeteries, you know. My mama and I hear noises out here at night, and I'll find places where the dirt's been dug up.'

'People bury things in the woods?' Stride asked.

'Yeah. Sure. I keep a collection of things I find out there. Photos of pets. Silly stuff like rings and corks from wine bottles. I think it makes people feel better to bury something near the cemetery. Like they figure God is nearby. If you dig in the trees, I bet you'd find a lot of bones.'

Chapter Seventeen

Serena found Valerie Glenn at her sister's home on Sunday afternoon. Denise Sheridan and her husband lived in downtown Grand Rapids, on a forested lot near the river. It was a small home for a family with four children. Its wood siding was dirty and needed paint, and several of the red roof shingles were missing. A fishing boat sat on a rusted trailer by the side of the house, and the yard was strewn with old toys. Half a dozen mature pines dwarfed the house and blocked it from the street.

Denise answered the door. Her face was pinched and impatient. When she saw Serena, she jerked a thumb down the hallway behind her. 'Valerie and Tom are in the living room. I've got to check on my youngest.' She lowered her voice and added, 'Do you have anything new?'

Serena shook her head.

Denise frowned and went upstairs, where Serena could hear the squeal of children. She found her way to the living room, which was a boxy space, crowded with old furniture. An upright piano was pushed against one wall, with stacks of sheet music piled on the bench. A little boy, no more than five years old, sat on the floor, humming as he pushed a red crayon around an illustration of a cow in a coloring book. The house smelled of burnt toast.

Valerie Glenn sat on the leather sofa, looking luminously out of place. Her clothes, her make-up, her hair, were all perfect. By contrast, the leather where she rested her slim arm was worn, with cuts and punctures bruising the surface. She had a sad, far-away smile as she watched the boy playing on the floor at her feet.

A man sat next to Valerie and held her hand. He was about forty years old, with gray strands lining his brown hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He wasn't heavy, but he had the stocky shoulders and slight beer gut of a typical Grand Rapids outdoorsman. His jeans had a frayed hole in the pocket, and the sleeves of his sweatshirt were rolled up past his elbows.

'Oh, hello, Serena,' Valerie murmured, looking up as she saw her in the doorway. 'Have you met Tom Sheridan?'

'I haven't.'

Tom got up from the sofa. He was a big man, but his handshake was gentle. 'I'm Denise's husband.'

'And who's this?' Serena asked, squatting down in front of the boy on the floor.

'This is Evan,' Tom said. 'Evan, can you say hello?'

The boy didn't look up from his work on the coloring book. 'Hello.'

Serena laughed and straightened up. 'You have a budding artist,' she said.

'I just wish he didn't practice on the bedroom walls,' Tom replied. He sat down again and put a comforting arm around Valerie's shoulder. With a glance at his sister-in-law, he said to Serena, 'I hate to be the bad guy here, but we're getting frustrated.'

'I understand. So are we.'

'How could Callie just vanish into thin air?' Tom asked.