With his hands shoved in his pockets, Stride strolled among the graves. He read the names on the headstones and brass markers built into the turf: Tolan, Niemi, Sorenson, Davis. Halfway up the slope, he found twin gray monuments for Edward and Lavinia Glenn, parents of Marcus Glenn, who had died two years apart more than a decade earlier. He had a difficult time imagining Marcus Glenn, who was so particular about the finer things in life, growing up in these remote, lower-class farmlands.

  'You're the cop, aren't you?'

  Stride looked up and saw a girl about nineteen years old standing near the edge of the cemetery land, where the dormant grass ended at the trees. She held a rake in her hand and stood next to a hillock of dried leaves.

  'Are you Migdalia Vega?' he asked.

  'Call me Micki,' she said, scraping the ground and gathering leaves into the pile. 'You find Callie yet?'

  'No.'

  'I hope you find her soon. She's a beautiful girl.'

  Stride approached her. Micki Vega looked like a girl who hadn't outgrown her baby fat. Her wide hips were packed solidly into beige corduroys. She had a round face, with a tiny mole above her upper lip, and golden skin. Her black hair was tied into a ponytail. She wore a red sweatshirt, which didn't hide the pooch that bulged over the belt of her pants.

  'Are you the caretaker for the cemetery?' he asked.

  Micki shrugged. 'I cut the lawn, rake the leaves, throw out the flowers when they die. That sort of thing.'

  'Do you live around here?'

  She gestured over her right shoulder, where he saw a cluster of mobile homes and a few dated pickup trucks hidden behind the trees. 'Me and my mama, we live there.'

  'You work for the Glenns too, is that right?'

  'Yeah, they call me when they need someone to look after Callie for a few hours. They're busy people. I work a lot of jobs, because Mama has lung disease, and she has to stay home.'

  'I'm sorry.'

  'Yeah, well, that's how it is. My dad skipped out a couple years ago. Mama has her lung thing from smoking. Somebody's got to make the dough.'

  'How did you meet Marcus Glenn?' Stride asked.

  Micki pointed down the slope. 'You saw the stones. Dr Glenn visits his family every month. I met him here a couple years ago, and he knew I did babysitting and stuff. I really needed the money, so when Callie was born, he said I could help. That was real nice. If it was up to his wife, she wouldn't have let me in the house.' 'Oh?'

  'Oh yeah, I heard her talking. She didn't want me around her baby.'

  'Why not?'

  'I'm Hispanic, and I live in a trailer. You think a woman like her is going to trust a girl like me? But she saw how good I was with Callie. We didn't have any problems after that. She still looks down her pretty little nose at me, but she knows Callie likes me. That's all that matters to Mrs Glenn. That baby is everything to her.'

  'What about Dr Glenn? Does he feel the same way?'

  Micki's eyes narrowed with suspicion. 'I know what you want me to say. You want me to say that Dr Glenn did something to Callie. Well, that's bullshit. The TV people, they have it all wrong. Dr Glenn does more to help people around here than just about anybody else in the world. If you knew him like I did, you'd know he would never do anything to hurt another person, let alone his baby girl.'

  Stride realized that Migdalia Vega was the first person he had met who had bothered to defend Marcus Glenn. 'You like him, don't you?'

  'Damn right I do. This thing with his daughter, it's terrible, but he had nothing to do with it.'

  'So do you have any idea what happened to Callie?'

  Micki shook her head. 'Somebody took her. Probably somebody trying to shake down Dr Glenn. When you have money, everybody wants a piece of you.'

  'But you have no idea who it could be?'

  'If I did, don't you think I'd tell you? It could be anybody.'

  'We're trying to figure out how somebody got into the house,' Stride told her. He added, 'You have a key, don't you?'

  'Sure I do.' She folded her arms over her chest in anger. 'What, you think I had something to do with this? Is that what Mrs Glenn said? Because I would never do anything to hurt Callie. Never.'

  'I didn't say you would. I was just wondering if anyone could have stolen your key.'

  'No way.' Micki dug in the tight pocket of her pants and pulled out a bulging set of keys. 'The houses where I babysit, the keys are all right here. I always have them with me. I never set them down anywhere except when I go to sleep at night.'

  'I have to look at all the possibilities, Micki. I'm not saying you would intentionally do something wrong, but it's easy to make a mistake. Maybe you told somebody what a nice house the Glenns have or how much money Marcus Glenn makes. Maybe a girlfriend said something to a boyfriend. Things happen.'

  'I already said no,' Micki insisted. 'You think I have time to hang out in bars and drink margaritas and tell stories? You think I can park my pussy in somebody's bed when I'm working every day of the week? I already learned my lesson about boyfriends. They're happy to stick it between your legs, but they don't want to be there to watch you brush your teeth in the morning. So I'm doing this for me and my mama, and that's it.'

  'OK,' Stride told her. 'I understand. If you remember talking to someone, even if it was totally innocent, I want you to call me. It's very important. This is about getting Callie back home safely.'

  'I know that, but I can't tell you what happened. I didn't hear anything, OK?'

  Micki's eyes darted to her feet. She knew what she'd said. So did Stride. The truth hung between them like laundry on a clothes line.

  'When was the last time you babysat for Callie?' he asked.

  'Last weekend, I think.'

  'You think?'

  'Yeah, Saturday, I guess. Dr Glenn and his wife were in Duluth for some kind of charity thing.'

  'That was the last time?' Stride repeated. His voice was hard.

  'I guess.'

  Micki attacked the wet leaves on the grass again. Some of the leaves stuck to her tennis shoes.

  'Does Dr Glenn call you to look after Callie when his wife isn't around?'

  'Sometimes.'

  'Mrs Glenn was in Minneapolis yesterday, right?' he asked her.

  'Yeah, I heard that.'

  'So did he call you yesterday?'

  Micki shook her head. 'No.'

  'You weren't there?' 'No.'

  'So where were you last night?'

  'Here,' she said. 'I was home.'

  'Alone?'

  'Just me and my mama. You can ask her.'

  Stride waited. Micki still didn't look at him.

  'What kind of car do you drive, Micki?' he asked.

  'A white Ford pickup.'

  'One of the neighbors saw your truck at the Glenns' yesterday,' he lied.

  'They must have had the wrong day. I wasn't there.'

  I didn't hear anything, OK?

  'I think you were,' Stride told her. 'You were in the house last night when Callie disappeared. I think you better tell me what the hell happened.'

  Chapter Seven

  'All right,' Micki admitted. 'I was there. Big fucking deal. I don't know what happened.'

  'Marcus Glenn lied to us,' Stride snapped. 'He said he was alone in the house.'

  'It's not what you think. This isn't about Callie, and it wasn't Dr Glenn's idea. I begged him not to get me involved. The last thing I needed was cops all over me, OK?'

  'Why?'

  Micki's round face flushed with anger. 'Why the hell do you think? I'm illegal. So's my mama. I knew what would happen if I stuck around. Cops asking me questions. Reporters taking my picture. You don't think someone would hook on to the fact that I don't belong here? You don't think that would make the papers? Next thing you know we'd be on a plane to Mexico.'

  'I don't care about your immigration status,' Stride told her.

  'Yeah, until you don't need me any more.' Micki threw down the rake.

  'Why did Marcus Glenn lie for you?'

  'Because he's a good man! He's not like the papers say. He's helped me ever since I met him.'

  'Are you sleeping with him?' Stride asked. 'Were you with him in his bedroom last night?'

  Micki stormed toward the pile of leaves and kicked her way through it, scattering them across the grass. Her chest swelled with fast, angry breaths. She jabbed a finger at Stride. 'That's what you think, huh?

  He helps me because I fuck him? Well, fuck you, cop, you can go to hell.'

  'Micki, we can do this right here, or we can do this in a cell in Grand Rapids,' Stride told her. 'Got it? Now answer my question.'

  'The answer is no! You think a man like Marcus Glenn needs a girl like me? If he said the word, you can bet I'd straddle him and give him the ride of his life, because I owe him. But he'd never do that.'

  'I don't believe you. You were there in his bedroom, weren't you? You're trying to protect him.'

  'I was not with him! I was in the apartment over the garage watching television. I fell asleep. That's it. I didn't see him until he came into my room and told me about Callie.' Micki's eyes widened, and she stomped toward Stride. 'You son of a bitch, that's what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted to know if Dr Glenn was alone. I'm telling you, he didn't do anything!'

  'Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.'

  'You see? Never trust a cop. I'm not saying a fucking thing.'

  'You're not helping yourself, Micki,' Stride said. 'When did you go over to the Glenn house?'

  Micki shrugged. 'Yesterday afternoon.'

  'Did Dr Glenn call you?'

  'Yeah, he said his wife had to go to the Cities and could I come over and watch Callie. So I said yes.'

  'When was this?'

  'About two o'clock. I stayed with Callie all afternoon, gave her dinner, and I put her to bed around seven. Dr Glenn had work to do, so he asked if I'd stick around through the evening and check on Callie again before I left.'

  'Where did you spend the evening?'

  'They have a pool table in the basement. I played pool and listened to music on the stereo.'

  'Did you see or hear anything during the evening? Did anyone come or go in the house? Were there any phone calls?'

  'No, there was nobody but me and Dr Glenn as far as I know. The phone rang a couple times, but he must have picked up the calls in his office.'

  'Then what?'

  'Around ten o'clock, Dr Glenn came downstairs and said his wife was stuck in the Cities because of the fog. He asked me if I'd spend the night in the garage apartment in case Callie needed anything. I do that every now and then. It's no big deal. I wasn't too crazy about being on the roads, so I stayed.'

  'How did Dr Glenn seem?'

  Micki shook her head. 'He was fine. Nothing was wrong. Callie was sleeping.'

  'What time did you go into the garage apartment?'

  'I don't know, about ten fifteen, I guess.'

  'That apartment overlooks the front of the house, right?' Stride asked.

  'Yeah, there are a couple windows toward the street. I didn't see anything. Not headlights, nothing. I didn't hear anything, either.'

  'Did you leave the room at all?'

  'No. The apartment has its own bathroom. I got in there, took a shower, climbed into bed, watched TV. I fell asleep with the TV on.'

  'What time did you fall asleep?'

  'I started watching The Simpsons at ten thirty. I didn't see the end of it. Next thing I knew, it was one in the morning, and Dr Glenn was knocking on the bedroom door.'

  'What did he want?'

  'He wanted to see if Callie was with me, but she wasn't.'

  'Exactly what did he tell you?' Stride asked.

  'He said Callie was gone, and he was going to call the police. That's when I started freaking out.'

  'How did Dr Glenn look?'

  'I don't know. He was upset. I mean, he wasn't crying or shouting, but that's not how he is. He's calm, he's in control. It doesn’t mean he wasn't scared. He was trying to figure out what could have happened, and me, I was going crazy. That's when he told me to leave. I told him I didn't know anything, so it's not like I could help anybody.'

  'Did you hear or see anything at all between ten thirty and one in the morning?'

  'Nothing,' Micki insisted. 'I was out cold.'

  Stride shook his head in frustration. He knew that somewhere in that two-and-a-half hour span, one of two things had happened. Either someone came into the house and took Callie, or Marcus Glenn made his daughter disappear. But even with another witness in the house as the crime was taking place, they were right back where they had started. Without answers.

  He left Micki and returned down the slope of the cemetery, past the collection of headstones. He stopped at the graves of Marcus Glenn's mother and father and thought about the surgeon making a pilgrimage here to the cemetery, returning to his roots. There were several other stones nearby carved with the name Glenn. The heart of the family was buried here through multiple generations — cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents. He wondered if Marcus planned to be buried here too, or whether he would choose higher ground.

  Stride thought he knew the answer. You don't go backward, even to join the dead. Marcus Glenn already lived a world away on the shore of Pokegama Lake. Beautiful wife. Beautiful house. Beautiful daughter.

  The perfect family. Minus one.

  'Where are you, Callie?' Stride asked aloud.

  He listened for an answer, but all he heard was the ringing music of the flagpole rope.

  Chapter Eight

  He wondered again: did they do the right thing?

  Now that it was over, he'd hoped that his doubts would leave him. He stared at the child's bed and told himself: the only way to right a wrong is to take matters into your own hands. They'd done what needed to be done. It was the only thing that could be done. They were on the side of the angels.

  All he wanted to do was forget. Put away the memory. Forgive the mistake. It seemed like a small thing to ask after the horrors of the past year. But no. He couldn't escape. When he tried to sleep, he cried in the darkness instead. When he finally closed his eyes, he was back in the woods.

  He chose the burying place among the sheltering arms of the evergreens.

  Cold wind roared in his ears. He tramped through low, woody brush, his footsteps crackling on the litter of fallen limbs and dried pine cones, until he reached a gap in the forest where he could dig. From where he stood, he stared through a web of spiny trunks and across the dirt road to the silhouettes of gravestones on the far slope. The trees quivered and whispered, as if they were afraid of him.

  He stopped and waited to make sure he was alone. Night enveloped the cemetery like a blanket pulled over a child's head. There were no stars, no view of heaven above the crowns of trees and the angry clouds. Nothing dwelt in this place except animals and the dead souls.

  He didn't even believe that God was here with him tonight. God had spent the past year traveling elsewhere.

  The animals stayed hidden in the darkness, but he felt their eyes watching him. His flashlight lit up their black droppings on the forest floor. He was afraid of marauders that could smell decaying flesh buried in the ground and scavenge on it. The thought appalled him. That was why he needed to dig deep.

  His spade cut through the soft bed of pine needles into the spongy earth. He levered the handle down with a heavy breath and turned over a shovelful of coffee-black soil. Then another and another, making a tinny noise of metal scraping against loose rock with each thrust. He worked quickly, wanting to be done with this gruesome task. The mouth he opened up in the ground grew deeper and wider. Loose grains of dirt spilled down the pyramid of ripped turf and back into the hole, which was almost ready to swallow up the linen-wrapped bundle at his feet. Swallow it down and consume it.

  He continued to carve out the grave. When he was done, he dropped the shovel and sat down with his back against a thick tree trunk. His sweat made him cold. His nose ran, partly because of the night air and partly because of the grief breaking inside him. He was at the point of no return, and he wondered if he could really do it. Lay the child in the ground, cover it up, and leave it behind.

  At least he had brought the child here, where the family ghosts could commune. Surely the dead souls would welcome a baby into their midst. Maybe, finally, God would come back and do what He had failed to do for so long. Watch over. Protect.

  He couldn't put it off any longer. Even at this late hour, on a lonely road, someone might drive by and wonder about his car parked on the shoulder. Take down a license plate. Call the police. A teenager from one of the nearby farms might see his light and decide to explore. There was no reason for anyone to search here after he was gone, as long as he came and went undetected.

  He picked up the child wrapped in clean cloth. It was practically weightless. He got down on his knees, balanced his elbows on the wet edge of the hole, and leaned down to lay the bundle carefully on the floor of the grave. Then he pushed himself up and wiped his face. He retrieved the shovel, took a wad of earth, and tipped it back into the pit. When the dirt hit the fresh white linen, his mouth twitched with dismay. He shoveled faster, covering up the body until only a postage stamp of white sheet remained, barely visible in the darkness. With the next scattering of soil, that was gone, too. His breathing came easier. He scraped all of the uncovered turf back into place, and then he began gathering handfuls of yellowed pine needles and scattering them over the circle of disturbed ground.

  When he shone his light down, the forest floor again looked pristine, as if no one had been there. There was no evidence of a grave. It was as if the child had never existed at all. He should have left it like that, but he knew there had to be some marking. Some memorial. He dug into his pocket and found a crumpled paper toy and decided he would leave it behind. With the solemnity of a father placing flowers at a headstone, he laid it down among the twigs and dirt.

 

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