"Signed, sealed, and delivered," Maggie said. "Count on it, boss."
Stride didn't need to ring the doorbell. As he climbed the steps, Graeme Stoner swung the door open. Stride could see icy fury in the man's eyes.
"Hello, Lieutenant," Graeme said. "I see you've brought a few of your friends with you."
"Mr. Stoner, we have a valid warrant to search these premises for any evidence related to the disappearance and possible murder of Rachel Deese."
"So I gathered. And is it ordinary police practice to engage in character assassination before you have any evidence? My phone is already starting to ring, thanks to Bird Finch's little report a few minutes ago. I called Kyle personally to complain."
Stride shrugged. Graeme's contacts at city hall weren't going to help him now. "I'll stay with you while my officers conduct the search."
Graeme turned on his heel and retreated through the living room without looking behind him. Stride followed him, and Maggie gathered the officers in the foyer, issuing instructions. Guppo would lead the team in the basement, she would handle the rooms upstairs, and they would do the first floor and the exterior and vehicles last.
"By the book," she told them, reiterating Stride's warning. "Stay in pairs at all times. Find it, photograph it, bag it, label it. You got all that?"
The sturdy police officers, all of them a foot and a half taller than the tiny Asian detective, nodded meekly and set about the search. Their footsteps sounded like thunder as they took different paths up and down the steps.
On the porch, Stride felt the chill in the room, emanating from the two people he found there. Emily Stoner sat where she had been when he first met her, in a recliner by the fireplace. She looked frail, her skin drained of color. Her body had shrunk, and her skin seemed to hang loosely on her frame. Her hair fell limply across her face. She was years older than she had been just a few weeks ago.
Emily didn't move and didn't say anything, but her eyes followed Graeme as he sat down in the recliner opposite her. Stride had always sensed tension between them, but this was different. Emily had heard the news along with everyone else. Stride knew what she was thinking-that the man sitting calmly a few inches away, who had shared her bed for five years, might be a monster.
It was Graeme's demeanor that surprised him.
Stride had dealt with criminals many times in the first moments after the truth came out. Most made angry protestations of innocence, denying the obvious. Others crumbled and confessed, releasing the burden of guilt that had been weighing on their souls. But he had never seen anyone look as calm and confident as Graeme Stoner. The man was furious but utterly controlled, and he still had a look of detached amusement, as if this whole process were nothing but a sideshow attraction.
Stride didn't know how to read him. He usually believed he could tell a man's guilt or innocence by watching for the truth written in his eyes and face. Graeme was a mask.
"You realize you've destroyed my reputation in this town," Graeme told him with a determined stare. "I hope the city can afford to pay the damages when I sue you."
Stride ignored him. He turned to Emily. "Please accept my apologies, Mrs. Stoner. If there had been any way of making this easier for you, I would have done it. I know what you've been through."
Emily nodded but said nothing. She kept staring at her husband, doing what Stride was trying to do-see the truth. Graeme's face revealed nothing.
"Mr. Stoner, I have to read you your rights," Stride said.
Graeme raised an eyebrow. "Are you arresting me?"
"No, but you are a suspect in this investigation. I want to make sure you understand your rights before we go any further." Stride rattled off the Miranda warnings, watching Graeme frown in disgust as he did so.
"Knowing that you don't have to say anything, are you willing to answer some questions, even though Mr. Gale is not present?"
Another shrug. "I have nothing to hide," Graeme said.
Stride was surprised-rich suspects never talked-but he wasn't about to question his good fortune.
"The leak regarding this situation was regrettable, Mr. Stoner. I apologize for that. I don't know how it happened." Stride didn't want to leap into the tough questions and have Graeme realize he was better off staying quiet. He wanted to worm his way slowly toward the ugly details.
"I suggest you find out how it happened, Lieutenant." Something in the man's eyes made Stride believe that Graeme was perfectly aware of the detective's strategy.
Stride nodded. "You can understand, however, that some of the details we have uncovered raise a lot of questions for us. We'd like to get your side of the story. That's why I'm here."
"I'm sure."
"Were you sleeping with Rachel?" Stride asked.
There was a heavy silence in the room. Emily seemed to hold her breath, waiting for Graeme's answer. Stride watched the man set his jaw and saw anger creep into his face. There was no hint of guilt in his expression, only contempt. His conviction made Stride wonder if they were making a mistake. Or was the man simply a consummate actor?
"What an offensive question. But the answer is no. Never. I would never have slept with my stepdaughter, Lieutenant. It did not happen."
"Rachel said it did," Stride said.
"I can't believe that," Graeme retorted. "The girl may not have had the best relations with either of us, but I cannot believe she would make up such an outrageous lie."
"She told a school counselor, Nancy Carver, that you started having sex with her shortly after you married Emily."
Stride heard Emily wince and suck in her breath. Graeme glanced at his wife, then back at Stride.
"Carver? No wonder. That interfering little bitch. Do you know she actually called and interrogated me? But she never came out and made any accusations like that. I think she's the one you should be investigating, Stride. It's obvious the woman is a lesbian. As I recall, I even called the school to complain."
Stride jotted a reminder in his notes. He wanted to check if there had really been a complaint lodged against Nancy Carver.
"Why would Rachel make up such a story?"
"I can't believe she did. Carver probably made up the whole thing."
"Rachel told someone else, too," Stride lied.
This time he caught a glimmer of hesitation in Graeme's eyes, but the moment quickly vanished. "I find that hard to believe. But if Rachel did that, all I can think is that she was having problems. Maybe the girl was having fantasies about me. Or maybe she was trying to drive a wedge between me and Emily. Who knows?"
"But you never slept with her?"
"I told you, no."
"You never touched her or had any kind of sexual contact with her?"
"Of course not," Graeme snapped.
"And she never touched you."
"I'm not Bill Clinton, Lieutenant. No sex means no sex."
Stride nodded. A definitive denial would help them in prosecution, if they could find any evidence to back up a relationship between Rachel and Graeme, but he knew that was a big if.
He doubted Stoner would be so adamant in his denial if there were any way of proving the two had been involved.
Or he was telling the truth.
"Do you know a friend of Rachel's named Sally Lindner?" Stride asked.
Graeme furrowed his brow. "I think so. She goes out with that boy Kevin, as I recall. Why?"
"Have you ever given her a ride in your van?"
"I really don't remember," Graeme said. "Maybe."
"Maybe?"
Graeme scratched his chin. "I may have given her a ride to her car one day. Her bike was broken. This was several months ago, and honestly, I can't even remember if it was her."
"Where did you pick her up?"
"Oh, somewhere north of town, as I recall. I had been visiting one of our branches."
"And where did you take her?" Stride asked.
"Like I said, back to her car."
"Did you stop anywhere?"