The Burying Place

have felt about her slipping into Stride's bed six months after she died, only to be rejected by a man who didn't want to hurt her.

Maggie picked up the next picture, which was of Stride and Serena in Las Vegas, then just as quickly put it down, rather than stare at the two of them. The last picture on the bureau was of herself. She was on the beach behind Stride's cottage, her sunglasses pushed to the end of her bottle-cap nose, her bowl haircut windblown by the lake, her grin lopsided and sarcastic. She thought it was a terrible picture, but Stride had refused to let her replace it. He had taken it himself.

She sat down and propped her heels on the desk. Guppo had prepared his typically thorough report of the crime scene forensics near the Lester River, and she reread it, looking for details she had previously missed. Some connection among the victims. Some strange motive in the man's actions that night. She read it twice without finding anything, and the words blurred on the page.

'Knock knock,' someone said, startling her.

Maggie looked up. The husky frame of Troy Grange filled her doorway.

'Oh, hi, Troy,' she said.

'Is this a bad time?'

'No, come on in.'

The rest of the Detective Bureau was dark behind him. Troy, like Maggie, was an early riser. He sat in the chair in front of her desk, and the overhead light bounced off his bald head like a sunbeam.

'What's going on?' she asked.

'Well, first, I wanted to thank you for coming to the house on Saturday. You and Kasey both. I really appreciate it.'

'I just wish I had better news for you. I'm sorry.'

'I know. I'm due back at work today, but I'm still in a fog.'

'Take more time,' Maggie suggested. 'The director of the port will understand. I can have the chief call him.'

'It will probably do me good to work again,' he said.

'How's Debbie?' Maggie asked. 'Poor kid, this must be hitting her hard.'

'It's hard now, but it'll be worse later. I hate the idea of her growing up without her mother. I'm a guy. What the hell do I know about raising girls?'

'You'll do fine, Troy,' Maggie told him, smiling. 'But I know it's not what you planned.'

'No, I never signed up to be a single parent, that's for sure.'

'Was there something else you needed?' Maggie asked.

'Yes, but this isn't about Trisha,' Troy said. 'It may be nothing.'

'What is it?'

'I got a call late last night from a secretary in my office. She was pretty upset.'

'What happened?' Maggie asked.

'Well, she's dating a guy named Nick Garaldo. I know him. He's a young kid, twenty-something, a wiry little squirt. He works on one of the tugboats in the harbor. Solid and reliable, from everything I've heard about him.' 'OK.'

'He's missing,' Troy said.

'Oh? For how long?'

'That's the thing. It's just a day. This gal who called me, she talked to him on Saturday morning. They were supposed to meet for coffee at Amazing Grace on Sunday. He never turned up. He doesn’t answer his cell phone, and he doesn’t answer his landline. She went to his apartment, but nobody answers the door. He also had a five a.m. shift in the harbor this morning, and he's a no-show.'

Maggie frowned. 'It's too early to declare him a missing person.'

'Yeah, I know. I told her I'd report it and see what you can do. She swears this is not like him at all, and his boss says the same thing. He's never missed a shift without calling.'

'Where does he live?'

'He's got an apartment in the Central Hillside area downtown.'

'People pick up and move sometimes,' Maggie said. 'Especially from that area.'

'Sure they do. There's probably nothing to worry about, and he'll turn up tomorrow with a hangover. Or he'll call from South Padre Island or something. But his girlfriend was pretty upset.'

'Of course. What's his address?'

Troy recited the location of Nick's apartment on Fourth Street and Lake. It was one of the tough areas of downtown, a haven for drug dealers.

'I'll have someone check it out,' Maggie told him.

'I appreciate it.'

'In the meantime, if you need anything, just call me.'

'I will.'

Troy squeezed out of the chair, and they shook hands. She listened to his heavy footsteps walking away, and she heard the outer door of the Detective Bureau open and close. She was alone again.

Alone with a dead woman near the Lester River and three other women missing and presumed dead.

Alone with the photographs on Stride's bureau.

Chapter Twenty

In the morning, they pretended as if nothing had happened between them.

They got up, showered, made coffee, shared their notes on the case, and acted as if the elephant in the room was invisible. On some level, Stride knew it was the worst thing they could possibly do, but that was who they were. They each retreated to their corners and nursed their wounds.

They drove slowly into Grand Rapids because of the snow. The driveway at the Glenn house was white and pristine, and behind the house, the lake was deep blue under the sunshine. Valerie Glenn answered the door. He didn't need to ask if she'd seen the morning news and the Vegas interview with Lavender. Her blue eyes were furious. She led them into the warm sunroom at the back of the house, and she sat in a wicker chair near the windows and stared at the snow-covered lawn leading down to the water.

'It might be better if you weren't here for this,' Serena told her. 'There may be things that Marcus won't tell us with you in the room.'

Valerie laughed humorlessly. 'Do you really think he'll spare my feelings? We're a little late for that.'

Stride had spent less time with Valerie than Serena had, but even no, he could see the change in her. She was a woman who didn't need make-up to be beautiful, but this morning she hadn't bothered to attend to her face. She wore a loose sweatshirt from the local country club, old jeans, and white athletic socks. He wondered if it was a silent message to her husband: I'm not your trophy today.

Stride saw Marcus Glenn in the doorway of the sunroom. There was no eye contact between him and Valerie as the surgeon sat down on the sofa on the other side of the room. His long legs jutted out like stilts over the end of the cushions.

'Good morning, detectives,' he said. 'I hope this won't take long. I've already had to cancel two surgeries today in order to be here.'

'We have some things we'd like to go over with you,' Stride said.

'Do I need a lawyer?'

'I don't know. Have you done anything that would make you need a lawyer?'

Glenn glanced at his wife. 'A divorce lawyer, perhaps.' He added, 'That's a joke, Valerie.'

Valerie didn't acknowledge him.

'Dr Glenn, there was an interview on television this morning with a woman in Las Vegas who claims to have