The Burying Place

'I'm not saying that,' Serena told her. 'But we're going to ask him some hard questions, and we want him to take a polygraph.'

'I can't believe this.'

'Valerie, people hide things for all sorts of reasons. Don't leap to conclusions. If we can use a polygraph to prove that Marcus wasn't involved, we can shift our focus elsewhere. We can take a closer look at Regan and Micki, too.'

Valerie pushed past Serena on the bridge. 'I have to go.'

'Please, wait.'

'I'm sorry. I can't deal with this right now.'

Serena called after her, but Valerie kept walking, not looking back. She walked with her head down and her hands in her pockets. At the end of the bridge, she began to run, with her long blonde hair flowing messily behind her. She ran until she disappeared behind the pine trees lining the street, where Serena couldn't see her anymore.

Chapter Eighteen

At midnight on Sunday, Stride turned off the lights in the war room. Standing in the dark office, he glanced at the streets of Grand Rapids, which were empty under the glow of neon signs and stop lights. The flurries had lasted most of the day and left behind a dusting of snow on the grass. He shrugged on his leather jacket and locked the office door as he left. As he waited for the elevator, he ran both hands through his wavy hair, massaging his scalp. He had a fierce headache and wanted nothing more than a few hours of sleep.

The elevator doors opened, but before he could go inside, he collided with a short, skinny woman barreling through the doors.

'Oh!' Blair Rowe chirped. 'Lieutenant Stride! They told me you were still here.'

He shook his head. 'I'm not here, Blair. This is a recording. Leave a message, and check back with me in the morning.'

She giggled. 'That's funny. You're cute. No, I've got something for you. You have to see this.'

'How'd you get up here, Blair?' Stride asked. 'I left shoot-on-sight orders downstairs.'

'Funny again! But don't forget, I went to high school with half the cops in the building.' She held up a circular cookie tin. 'Plus, my mom made peanut butter blossoms. No man can say no to these babies. You want one?' 'No.'

'Oh, lighten up, Lieutenant!' Blair scolded him. 'I'm doing my part. I'm keeping you clued in. This is going to be on Headline News in the morning, but I thought you would want to see it first. See? I'm a team player.' She dug into the pocket of her navy blue trench coat and waved a DVD at him.

'What is it?'

'It's hot. You know how they say everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? Not this time. One of our reporters found a stripper who says she sleeps with Marcus Glenn on his trips to Sin City. She's got some juicy quotes.'

Stride didn't want to be surprised in the morning. 'Yeah, all right. Come with me. Let's put it on.'

They returned to the office halfway down the hall, where Stride turned on the lights and dropped his coat on the back of a chair. Blair tottered on her heels, and her eyes drifted to the stacks of paper littered around the room.

'No spying on anything in here,' he told her. 'Got it?'

'Yeah, OK. Did you see me on the air last night?'

'I did. You better be careful, Blair. You pretty much accused Marcus Glenn of murdering his daughter. You're going to get sued if you keep it up.'

Blair shrugged. 'Oh, I say 'alleged' and all those other weasel words. All I do is point out the facts.' She peeled the lid off the cookie tin and pulled out a round peanut butter cookie with a chocolate kiss pressed in the center. She popped the whole thing in her mouth and chewed. 'You sure you don't want one?'

'I'm sure.'

She.licked her fingers and studied him through her thick glasses. 'How do I look, by the way? The network paid for my hair and makeup. Pretty smokin', huh?'

Stride realized that Blair did look more polished now. Her hair, which had been dirty and stringy when he first met her, was now cut, swirled, and sprayed into place. Her once-blotchy skin was smooth and pink. 'You're looking good, Blair.'

'Good? That's the best you can do?'

He pointed at the DVD in her hand and then at the television stand in the corner. 'What's on the disk?'

Blair popped the disk into the DVD player on the shelf below the television. 'This is an interview that a Las Vegas reporter did with a black bombshell down there this afternoon. She strips at a club north of downtown. Her name's Lavender-something.'

'Lavender?'

'Yeah.'

Stride chuckled. 'How did this reporter find her?'

'She came to him. She saw the story about Callie on the news.'

As the video rolled, Lavender filled the screen. She had straightened black hair and full, pale pink lips, with white teeth that looked capped. She tapped a long fingernail against her cheek impatiently as the camera man took his time to get focused, scrolling up her long legs and lingering on the surgically enhanced breasts filling her T- shirt.

'How did you meet Marcus Glenn?' the reporter asked.

'He's a regular at the strip club where I work. He's in Vegas three, four times a year.'

'What's he like?'

Lavender's broad lips curled into a smile. 'He's a doctor, baby. Doctors have the whole God thing going on. When they screw you, it's like they're delivering the seed of the Savior, know what I mean?'

Blair laughed. 'I love that part.'

'So this was a sexual relationship you had with Marcus Glenn?'

'Oh, yeah:

'Did you know he was married?'

'Sure. I like it that way. No strings. They don't come around on one knee with a ring. It's expensive dinners, a few sweaty rides, and then they go home.'

'Was this a… paid relationship?'

Lavender's eyes flashed with anger. 'Nobody buys me.'

'Yeah, except for the lobster dinners and the bling,' Blair commented.

'Did Marcus Glenn tell you much about his personal life?'

'Not a lot. Men in Vegas are looking to forget what they've got back home, you understand? But I saw a photo he had of his wife. She was a looker. One time I asked him if his wife wasn't enough for him, if that's why he was with me.'

'What did he say?'

'He said you only use the good china on special occasions.' Lavender's laugh was deep and throaty.

Stride winced, imagining this video on the news, knowing it would drive a knife through Valerie Glenn's heart.