The Burying Place

'He didn't report it?'

'We were watching Marcus, not Valerie. We haven't been following her. When Marcus called, I scrambled units all over town to look for her car. Nobody's spotted her yet.' She added, 'Come on, let's get Callie out of the cold.'

Denise carried the girl up the driveway. A police officer at the front door let them inside. They followed the hallway to the kitchen at the rear of the house, where they found Marcus sitting at the island with a mug of coffee. He wore a chocolate-brown silk bathrobe and slippers and had half-glasses pushed down his nose. He was reading an online medical journal on a laptop in front of him.

Marcus saw Callie in Denise's arms. He'd known for an hour that she was coming home, but it was one thing to know it and another to see her alive. Serena watched him and tried to decipher the changing emotions on his face. He stripped off his glasses. His mouth tightened, and he blinked faster. A smile flickered on his lips, like a flame that couldn't quite catch.

Denise made no effort to hand Callie to Marcus or to hide her hostility. She stared at her brother-in-law, her eyes fierce.

'May I hold her?' he asked finally.

Denise clung to Callie and didn't move. 'She's not yours, is she?'

'Do you think that matters right now? Do you think I care about that?'

'I think the only person you care about is yourself.'

'You're wrong. You've always been wrong about me.'

Serena murmured under her breath, 'Come on, Denise.'

With her jaw clenched, Denise took a step closer and eased the girl away from her shoulder. Marcus put his coffee down and climbed out of his chair. He reached out his arms, and Denise passed Callie to him with obvious reluctance. The girl stirred and made a noise but didn't wake up.

Marcus held Callie against his chest. She looked small in his big hands. He sat down again.

'Well?' he said to Denise.

'Well what?'

'Don't you have something to say to me?'

'You don't want to hear what I have to say, Marcus.'

'I was expecting an apology,' he told her.

'Excuse me?'

'An apology,' he repeated, his voice hushed, but his tone harsh and bitter. 'For the last week, I've seen my name trampled through the mud and rumors flung around town about me. People calling me a murderer. Friends not returning my calls. Patients dropping my services. My marriage in ruins, my private life put on display for the world. I know where it all started, Denise. It started with you. Well, guess what, the truth is exactly what I said it was all along. I had nothing to do with any of this. And I think the least you can do is have the decency to tell me you're sorry.'

'Sorry?' Denise put her hands on her hips. 'Sorry? You caused this, Marcus. You let it happen. You and your little psycho bedmate, Regan Conrad. Yeah, I'm sorry. Sorry Valerie ever laid eyes on you. Sorry you're such an arrogant bastard. Maybe instead of feeling pity for yourself you could thank God for the people who brought this little girl back home safely. And maybe you could shed a tear and pretend to show an ounce of concern as we try to find your wife.'

She stalked from the room with heavy footsteps. The noise made Callie stir, and her eyes blinked open before shutting again. Marcus scowled as his eyes followed Denise, but then he scrubbed the anger from his face and nodded at Serena.

'I am grateful for everything you did,' he told her. 'Don't misunderstand. I'm just furious at how I've been treated.'

'I do know how you feel,' Serena replied. 'Innocent people often wind up destroyed by these crimes. I won't pretend it's fair.' She added, 'Do you have Valerie's note? May I see it?'

He gestured at a three-by-five card on the kitchen counter. 'It was taped to the mirror in our bathroom. I saw it when I got up overnight.'

Serena read the note, which said: Now we're both free. She tried to reconstruct Valerie's fragile state of mind, and the implications scared her.

'Did anything happen between the two of you this evening?' she asked. 'A fight.'

'About Callie?'

'Yes.'

'Do you think she would harm herself?'

'I don't know,' Marcus said. 'She was poisoned by all the rumors against me. She was in despair of ever seeing Callie again. I think she was capable of anything.'

'If she turns on her phone, or turns on the radio, she'll know Callie is safe.'

'Yes, if it's not too late,' he said. He glanced down at the sleeping child and added, 'I should put Callie to bed now.'

'Did Denise tell you about the woman who took her?' Serena asked. 'Kasey Kennedy?'

'I hear she's still at large.'

'That's right, and we don't know what she's going to do. With your permission, we'll keep police officers around the house. I'd also like to have a policewoman stay inside in the nursery with Callie.'

'Fine, but you don't really think this woman is foolish enough to try this again, do you?'

'She's desperate and unstable. Until we find her, I think we need to take every precaution. It might be better for you to take Callie somewhere else for a few days, with police protection. Your house is an obvious target.'

He shook his head. 'I won't be driven out of my home.'

'I understand.'

They both looked up as Denise Sheridan reappeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Her face was stricken, and her voice caught in her throat.

'Someone spotted Valerie's car by the river near the radio station,' she said. 'It's empty.'

Valerie sat on the wet ground with her arms wrapped around her knees. In front of her, the dark water of the Mississippi was crusted with ice. It was the kind of brittle sheen that would crack like glass and open up a hole for her as she walked from the shore. She wondered if that was the easier way to do what she had to do. Walk on the ice. Let herself be swallowed up by the grip of the frigid water.

She was numb with cold. Tears had frozen into pearls on her face. She couldn't feel her fingers, and her feet tingled as if they had been stung by bees. She had been sitting here, alone with the chill and the water, for an hour, and still she couldn't bring herself to do it. She had taken the bottle of aspirin from her pocket a dozen times, and each time, she had put it back without opening it. She hoped if she simply sat here a little while longer, the cold would do its work for her, taking away her sensations until she felt nothing at all.

Nearby, she heard voices floating in the wind like the whispers of ghosts. People were above her, on the crest of the river bank at Canal Street. Shouting. Insistent. On the bridge of Highway 169 upriver, she saw the speeding lights of cars. She ignored them all.

She withdrew the bottle again. Her raw fingers felt clumsy as she handled it. She stared at the tablets and imagined washing them down her throat with melted snow. Last time, she had used a bottle that wasn't full. That had been her mistake. That was why she had awakened in the hospital. This time, the bottle brimmed with hundreds of pills. She could swallow them all before they dulled her system and lulled her to sleep.

She fingered the plastic wrapper around the neck of the bottle. With the edge of her nail, she tried to cut it away, but her hands felt thick. She put the cap in her mouth and scraped the wrapper with her teeth. A little piece of it tore. She tugged at the flap and finally pulled it free, unwinding it like a ribbon. That small success felt like a huge victory.

Valerie squinted to line up the arrows on the cap in the darkness. She tried to pry off the cap with her thumb, but her skin was damp, and her fingers slipped on the ridged plastic. Finally, attacking it with both thumbs, she popped the cap off the bottle, and it flipped like a coin into the air. She punched through the foil seal, and the bottle squirmed in her numb fingers. A dozen tablets spilled on to the ground around her legs. She didn't care about