"Katrina, you were raped."
"I know."
"Tell me what this is about. If it's something illegal-"
She shook her head. "It's not illegal. At least, I don't think it is. Immoral, maybe. I was part of a sex club in town. I was the alpha girl for the night."
Stride thought about his brief time in Las Vegas, which was a city that made a living on sex. Your basest desires were advertised on taxicab posters and hawked on the sidewalks. The only difference between Las Vegas and anywhere else was that Vegas didn't hide its lust. The city didn't invent sin; it imported it. All the people, all the desires, came to the desert from somewhere else. From places like Duluth.
"How did you get involved with this club?"
"Sonia recruited me."
Stride wasn't surprised that Sonia Bezac's name popped up in the middle of this. "She's a member?"
"She and Delmar started the club. It takes place at their house. There's a downstairs room she calls the temple."
"How many people are involved?"
"I'm not sure. There were a dozen or more people there when I was the alpha girl. Maybe seven or eight men and a few women, too."
"What's an alpha girl?"
Katrina squirmed on the sofa. "Look, I wasn't ashamed of it. I did it because I'm a wild chick, and I like to experiment. I'm not hung up about sex. But it's different when you have to start telling people about it."
"I'm not judging you."
"Yeah, well, we'll see about that. There's a different alpha girl each time. We're basically there to have sex with anyone who wants us. Sometimes it's men who like to do it in front of other people. Sometimes it's wives whose husbands like to see them with other women. Sometimes it's the husband and wife together at the same time. There are also couples who simply like to see public sex and make out or masturbate while they watch us."
"That all sounds like an invitation to STDs."
"Condoms are the rule. Nobody goes bareback. Even the husbands and wives who have sex with each other have to use condoms while they're there."
"I'm having trouble understanding why you would want to do this to yourself," he said, choosing his words carefully.
"But you're not judging me, right? Ha. Hey, we're swingers, so what. I told you that most people wouldn't get it. That's why it's a secret. That's why I don't advertise it, and neither does anyone else."
"It feels dehumanizing to me, not erotic."
"Well, that's you. Me, I loved it. I was never more turned on in my life than I was that night. You have no idea how a big girl like me struggles with body image. But that night, every man wanted me. A bunch of women, too. I've never felt more desirable."
Stride wanted to get the facts and get out. "When was this?"
"Last month. December."
"How often does the club meet?"
"I'm not sure. Once a month, maybe."
"Do you think the rapist knew about the club?"
"Hell, he came after me the day after the party. It's not like that could be a coincidence, right?"
"Could it have been someone who was at the sex party with you?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I doubt it."
"Who else was there?"
"I don't know."
"You mean you didn't recognize them?"
"I mean, everyone wears masks. It's part of the game. The anonymity."
"So when you go, you don't know who else is going to be there?"
"No. Other than Sonia and Delmar, of course." She twitched and pressed her lips together. Her eyes darted to the floor.
"What is it?"
"I did know someone else who was there," she admitted.
"Who?"
"Maggie's husband. Eric. He was easy to spot. Him and his long blond hair."
Stride thought about Maggie. Do you think I don't have secrets?
"Did Maggie know about Eric and the club?" he asked, but he already knew what Katrina was going to say.
"Oh, yeah. She knew."
"You're sure?"
"We talked about it before I did it."
Stride shook his head. He couldn't believe any of this.
"What did she tell you?"
"She said I should do whatever I wanted, but we haven't talked since then. I called her after Eric was killed, but she never called me back. I guess I don't blame her."
"Are you telling me that Maggie was in the club?" Stride asked, and he could taste horror like sour wine in his mouth.
"Fasten your seat belt, Lieutenant. Maggie was the alpha girl the month before me."
29
Serena hated driving through the winter nights in Minnesota.
It was nearly eleven o'clock, and the northern highway was a long stretch of nothingness. She was an hour from Duluth, in the empty stretch where miles went by between towns. On either side of the road, the evergreens pressed in like dark towers, and the wilderness behind them was a black mass. She was afraid of deer springing out from the woods. There were carcasses on the shoulder every few miles, and when her headlights lit up the median, she could see hoof tracks cutting through the snow. The beasts were out there, tracking her.
She found a country radio station, but the signal came and went. She heard bits and pieces of songs by Miranda Lambert, Alan Jackson, and LeAnn Rimes, and she found herself singing along, making her feel less alone in the car. Country music was one of the things that she and Jonny had in common. You either got it or you didn't. Most people groaned when they heard her playing Terri Clark on the stereo, or when she told them about driving six hours to go to a Sara Evans concert in Des Moines. She didn't bother explaining. If you didn't get tears in your eyes listening to "No Place That Far," you wouldn't understand.
Her cell phone rang on the seat next to her.
"Oh, man, what are you listening to this time?" Maggie asked.
Serena laughed and switched off the radio. Maggie was like Tony Wells, a fan of hard rock and heavy metal.
"That's Garth, you heathen. Say one word against him, and I'll be forced to shave your head."
"Jeez, one innocent remark, and you country music fans go all shotguns and hound dogs on me." She added, "Where are you?"
"I'm heading north on Thirty-five. I'm just about to Finlayson."
"Watch out for deer."
"I'm trying to."
"Have you talked to Stride?"
"Not tonight. I tried earlier, but I got his voice mail."
"He wants the three of us to get together tomorrow," Maggie told her. "He thinks he knows how some of the pieces connect."
"Do you know what he's got?"
Maggie's voice was flat. "Yeah, I did something stupid. I should have told him about it myself. I didn't think there was any connection to what happened to me, but I guess I was kidding myself."
Serena let the silent air drag on, waiting for Maggie to continue. She didn't. "You want to tell me about it?"
"I'll let him do it. I feel like enough of an idiot already."
"Whatever you want, kiddo. You want to hear what I found at the Ordway?"
"Sure."
Serena filled her in about Eric's visit to the theater and the sudden decision by Helen Danning to skip town the day after Eric's murder. "I checked the restaurant where you said Eric had dinner. The waiter recognized Helen Danning. He saw the two of them together."
"Did he hear what they were talking about?"
"Whatever it was, Helen wasn't happy. She left halfway through the meal."
"And now she's gone."
"Seriously gone," Serena said. "No forwarding address. I sweet-talked the building manager, and he let me take a look at her apartment. She left behind her furniture, but she took everything else she could cram into her car. I swiped a coffee mug from her counter so we could run it for prints."
"You did what?"
"I swiped a coffee mug. Why?"
Maggie was silent.
"You there?" Serena asked.
"Yeah. Yeah. Something didn't feel right for a second there, like I had forgotten something important. I almost had my finger on it, but it's gone now. What was this stuff about a blog?"
"Eric apparently found Helen through some blog she was running. Lady something. Does that ring a bell?"