The Burying Place

He was high above the water again. His body shot like a bullet from the bridge, knifing toward the harbor. The night air became a searing whistle in his ears. Three seconds, that was all it took. Three seconds to realize he was about to die, three seconds to hammer into the bay. His nerve ends erupted with agony. The hard, cold water became his tomb. His mind drove him into the deep jaws of the bay, over and over, and each time his body rocketed through the air, he wished that the impact would kill him once and for all. He could almost hear the words forming in his chest.

Kill me.

Stride was on the kitchen floor when he awakened. Broken glass surrounded him, some shards as pretty as diamonds, some large and deadly like arrowheads. Crimson trails oozed from the cuts on his arms. His shirt was dyed with stains from the blood that dripped down his cheek and neck, where the eruption of glass had sprayed his face. He spread his hands wide and watched the smears as if the blood were coming from a stranger's body. The cuts didn't sting. His leg, the leg he had broken in the fall, didn't throb. He was numb.

On the floor, he saw a pointed shard with edges as sharp as a razor. So sharp they could slice through tissue like a surgeon's knife. He picked it up and rubbed it between his fingers. The glass glinted in the light. He squeezed his fist and saw the veins in his wrist bulge like twin lengths of rope. If only the fragments had cut him there, opening him up like a fountain. If only he hadn't awakened at all. He didn't want to live like this.

Chapter Twenty-five

'Where did you go last night, Valerie?' Serena asked.

They sat in front of the fireplace in the lobby of the Sawmill Inn in Grand Rapids. Valerie wore a conservative gray suit, with her blonde hair pinned up. She stared at the fire with an uncomfortable expression and refused to meet Serena's eyes.

'Go? What do you mean?'

'Don't play dumb. Do you think we're not watching your house? You left last night at eleven thirty, and you got back shortly before one in the morning.'

Valerie rubbed her fingers along the smooth oak on the arm of the sofa. 'Oh, that. I couldn't sleep. I went for a drive.'

'Where?'

'Around town. I do that sometimes. I'll sit in a park by the river at night. I like to be by myself when I'm sad.'

Serena put a hand on Valerie's shoulder. 'It doesn’t help when you lie to me.'

'I'm not lying.'

Valerie glanced at the hotel door. Serena had stopped her as she emerged from a breakfast meeting in the hotel's restaurant. Valerie's friends lingered, watching them. 'I've been part of this prayer group for almost five years,' she added, changing the subject. 'Are you a religious person, Serena?'

'No.'

'I try to be.'

Serena said nothing.

'One of the older women asked me if I had sinned,' Valerie continued. 'She thinks I'm being punished.'

'That's a load of crap,' Serena said.

'Who knows? Maybe she's right. Then again, when you're a sixty-six-year-old virgin, it's easy to be pious. It's a little harder for the rest of us.'

Serena sipped coffee from a styrofoam cup. 'Were you meeting someone?'

'I'm sorry?'

'Last night.'

'I told you, I went for a drive.'

Serena shook her head. 'I understand that you don't want to tell me, but when the mother of a missing child starts lying to me, I wonder why.'

'Why are you so sure I'm lying?' Valerie asked.

'Because your lower lip is trembling, your smile is fake, you keep changing the subject, and you won't look at me. Is that enough?'

Valerie didn't say anything.

'Was it about Callie?' Serena asked. 'Did they tell you not to talk to the police? I realize you're scared, but if a kidnapper made contact with you, you have to tell me. I need to know.'

'It wasn't that.'

'Then what was it?'

'It was just someone playing head games with me.'

'Who?'

'Regan Conrad.'

Serena leaned closer, her voice low. 'What did she want?'

'She said she knew what happened to Callie, but that was a lie.'

'Did she tell you not to talk to the police?'

Valerie nodded.

'What exactly did she say?'

'It doesn’t matter. She didn't know anything.'

'Tell me what she said, Valerie. Why did she want to see you? What did she say about Callie?'

'I don't want to play her game,' Valerie replied. 'If I tell you, I'm giving her what she wants.'

'I'm going to talk to her anyway. You know that. I don't care if you think she was lying. If she told you she knows what happened to Callie, she's a suspect.'

'She was just trying to get under my skin. She wanted me to believe Marcus was involved in Callie's disappearance. This is about her getting revenge on the two of us. That's all.'

'Did she have new information?' Serena asked.

'No.'

'Then why did she think Marcus was involved?'

A flush rose on Valerie's face. 'She said — she said he told her things. About him not wanting me to have a baby. Like he told that stripper in Vegas. I don't believe her. I think she made it up to torture me.'

'What else?'

'That was all.'

Serena could see Valerie covering up the rest of the story the way a mother covers a baby. She was protecting a secret. 'You're holding out on me, Valerie,' she said.

Valerie stood up and smoothed her skirt. 'There wasn't anything else. She didn't know what happened to Callie.'

'I can't find your daughter if you keep things from me. Even the things you don't want to face.'

'I'm sorry. I don't have anything more to tell you.'

Valerie walked away. Serena watched her leave the hotel with the elegant march of a woman who was at ease in high heels. Two of the women from the prayer group waited by the door, but Valerie didn't acknowledge them. When Serena went outside herself, she saw Valerie climbing into her Mercedes in the parking lot. Their eyes met. In that instant, Serena saw through Valerie's shell and felt the other woman reaching out to her for help, as if she were apologizing for having a secret that was too awful to share. Then the moment passed, and Valerie drove off on to Pokegama Road.

Serena wondered what sin Valerie thought she was being punished for. How could any sin be worth the life of a child?

Valerie didn't go home. She didn't want to see Marcus or run the gauntlet of police and media. Instead, she drove to her sister's house by the river and parked outside. Denise was gone; she always left early. Tom's car was in the driveway. The kids were already in school, except for the youngest, and Valerie knew that Tom dropped Maureen at day care on his way to work.

She sat in the car with the engine running and reached over and opened the glove compartment. The envelope that Regan Conrad had given her was inside. She took it out and turned it over gently in her hands, feeling the slight bulge of the paper sealed under the flap. All she had to do was rip the envelope open.

I don't have to tell you why, do I?

Valerie shook her head. She wouldn't let her mind be poisoned by Regan Conrad, and she wouldn't let Serena be poisoned either. Whatever it was, she didn't want to know. She slid the envelope back into the glove compartment and closed it.

'Valerie.'

She looked up at a knock on the window and the muffled sound of a voice. Tom Sheridan stood outside the car with Maureen in his arms. He wore a heavy coat over a brown business suit.

'Hi,' she said, unlocking the door.

Tom climbed inside. He warmed a hand at the hot air vent and didn't say anything. Maureen was bundled up in a fleece blanket, with a pink cap on her head. Valerie reached out and ran a finger along the girl's soft cheek and was rewarded with a giggle.