“Do you work here?”
The man pushed himself up until he was standing again, and Lisa could hear an audible pop in one of his knees and saw a twinge of discomfort cross the man’s face. “No, I’m just a volunteer.”
“My name is Lisa Power,” she said, but her name drew no recognition from him.
“Tom Manno. Father Manno, actually.”
“You’re a priest?”
“Recently retired. I still do the occasional funeral service for parishioners I’ve known for a long time. Plus, I help the city keep the cemetery here in good order. People like to leave things behind when they visit. Flowers, trinkets, little memorials for their loved ones. Usually the city comes through before winter and gathers them up and throws them away. I’ve never liked that. So I get out here before the cemetery workers arrive and save what I can. I keep it all in storage at the church. No one has ever come back to get anything, but that doesn’t matter to me. These objects have meaning to someone, so I want them treated with respect.”
“That’s very nice,” Lisa told him.
Father Manno put down the box at his feet. He stared into the wind at the gravestones surrounding them. “Well, to be perfectly honest, these visits are selfish, too. I like spending time here by myself. I have a chance to catch up with old friends. I can reflect on what’s ahead for me, too. Not that I’m looking to rush it, but I’ve seen enough people unprepared that I’d rather get my head around it. People always assume that priests are just fine with death, as if going to a better world means you don’t regret leaving the one you know. How silly.”
“Well, I don’t mean to intrude,” Lisa told him.
“Not at all. Is there something you need?”
“I have a question, actually.” She pointed to the corner of the cemetery near the trees. “There’s a freshly dug grave back there. I assume someone was buried very recently. I was just wondering if you happened to know who it was, or know anything about it.”
Father Manno followed the direction of her finger and shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I’m not involved in every burial here, unless the deceased had a connection to my church.”
“Of course. I understand.”
“I did do a funeral here a few days ago, but the grave was nowhere near where you’re pointing. Besides, I’m sure you know about that one.”
Lisa cocked her head in confusion. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed you lived in town.”
“I live an hour north,” Lisa said. “Plus, I haven’t felt like reading the papers in a while.”
“Well, the funeral was for a young woman. Her name was Fiona Farrell. It seemed like half the town was here to pay their respects. I suppose that was partly because of how she died and partly because of who her father is.”
“Her father,” Lisa murmured.
“Yes, Denis Farrell. The county attorney.”
Lisa found herself shivering as the wind sprayed snow across her face. “You just buried Denis Farrell’s daughter?”
“That’s right.”
“How did she die?”
“Oh, it was a terrible thing,” Father Manno told her. “The family is absolutely devastated. She was stabbed to death. Brutally murdered.”
The hospital administrator sat across the desk from Denis Farrell in the county attorney’s home office. Wilson Hoke was an annoying little man, one of those sycophants Denis never trusted because they would constantly dance around what they really wanted to say. Denis had no time for pussyfooters. Physically, Hoke was something of a Bill Gates lookalike, always in a wrinkled pin-striped suit, with a meek voice, messy brown hair, black glasses, and a thin little smile.
“I just wanted to say again, Mr. Farrell, how very sorry I am for your loss,” Hoke told him. “It’s so shocking. It’s so tragic.”
Denis didn’t need any more condolences, especially not from this man. “Yes, it is. Thank you.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult this time is for you and your wife.”
“To be very honest, we’ve barely had time to think about the reality of it. Grief will come later.”
“Oh, I understand,” Hoke replied, nodding his head repeatedly.
Denis found himself tapping his finger on the desk in time with Hoke’s head. He looked around his office and felt claustrophobic, because everything in here was a reminder. “This is a busy time for me, Hoke. I’m sorry to rush you along, but what do you want?”
“Oh. Well. I just wanted to follow up about the... well, the incident. I wanted to assure you that appropriate security measures will be taken.”
Denis shook his head. As expected, Hoke was covering his ass. Trying to make sure that none of the consequences fell on his head. “It’s a little late for appropriate measures,” he snapped at the man.
“Yes, I realize that. I’m sorry.”
“Have you contained the situation at the hospital?” Denis asked.
“As best we can. However, Thief River Falls is still a small town. We all know rumors have a way of getting around.”
“Then it’s your job to stop them before they start,” Denis insisted. “I assume we’re both clear on the mess that follows if people find out about this. Neither of us wants that, do we?”
“Of course not.” Hoke fiddled with the knot on his tie. As usual, he wasn’t saying what he wanted to say, which drove Denis mad. “I was wondering, not wanting to pry or anything, whether there had been any new developments.”
“No.”
“So we haven’t... located... the boy?”
“No.”
Hoke nodded uncomfortably. “Dr. March tells me that you think that Harlan is... with... Lisa Power?”
“We think so, yes.”
“And do you know where they are?”
Denis got up from his desk, not hiding his impatience. He ignored his cane and limped to the bookshelves on the wall. He knew exactly which book he wanted.
Thief River Falls.
He took it down and held it in his hands, and then he flipped forward to the dedication, ripping at each page.
For Danny.
And then to the prologue.
Down, down, down...
Denis slammed the book shut. The noise was as loud as the crack of a bullet. “No, we don’t know where they are, but Lisa came back to Thief River Falls yesterday evening. She’s like a moth to a flame, that one. I have people watching the roads, so she can’t leave town. Sooner or later, we’ll find her. We’ll find both of them.”
27
Denis Farrell.
When Lisa heard his name, she knew that he was at the center of whatever was going on. She wasn’t surprised at all. He was a ruthless, arrogant son of a bitch who treated the town of Thief River Falls like his personal empire. She’d already seen once before how he reacted to loss in his family. If his life had now been touched by the murder of his daughter, he would be the blackest kind of avenging angel.
She and Denis had been antagonists for more than twenty years. He hated her, and she knew it. To this day, he refused to be in the same room with her. Yes, she’d shamed him into taking action against the man who’d assaulted Shyla Dunn when Lisa was only a young nurse, but the bad blood between them went back much further than that. It really had very little to do with Lisa and everything to do with Denis’s son.
The golden boy. The inheritor of the legacy. The young man who was going to expand Denis’s reach beyond the flatlands in their little corner of the state to the capitol building in Saint Paul. And maybe beyond, to Washington, DC.
Daniel Farrell.
Danny.
Lisa could still remember the first time she’d met Danny’s father. She was fifteen years old, and she and Danny had only been dating for a few weeks when the county attorney’s assistant called to invite her to dinner. Not the two of them. Just Lisa. Danny had sarcastically told her that his father was a force to be reckoned with, but even that warning hadn’t prepared her for what was ahead. She remembered standing in front of Denis’s desk in that dark, baroque office of his and trembling as he lectured her in a booming voice about everything that was not going to happen.