Stride steered right at the fork. The farther he drove, the more the road narrowed, until it was barely wider than the SUV.
“Are you sure this is the place?”
“I’m sure. It was a bitch getting my truck down here.”
They reached a junction where there was a wide trail leading into the trees. It was generous to call it a road, because it was overgrown with weeds and grass, and he spotted a couple of fallen tree trunks blocking the access. But there were tire tracks, so someone had been driving here.
“That’s the spot,” Rex said.
“Here?” Maggie said.
“Yeah. This Webster guy, his car was in that clearing.”
All three of them climbed out of Stride’s truck. The rain was heavy and loud in the trees, and the wind had begun to kick up, turning the air cold. This was a particularly deserted stretch of woodland. They hadn’t passed a house in at least half a mile, and they were still another half a mile from the lakeshore. The area was dead quiet, missing the distant rumble of traffic that was usually in the background. Stride wandered down the grassy trail until it curved away into the trees.
Maggie came up beside him. “What was Gavin doing out here?”
“Good question.”
They walked back to the dirt road and joined Rex by the truck.
“So what was wrong with Gavin’s car?” Stride asked.
“I told you. Flat tire. Rear driver’s side.”
“When was this?”
“A week ago Sunday.”
“Morning? Afternoon?”
“Morning. Pretty early. Normally I’d go to church, but a job’s a job.”
“Did you see anybody else out here?” Maggie asked. “Any other cars or people?”
“Nope. Nobody.”
“Was Gavin alone? Or was anyone else in the car with him?”
“It was just him.”
“How was he dressed?”
“Oh, hell, I don’t remember.”
“Was he clean or dirty?”
Rex thought about it. “Dirty. Looked like he’d been out in the woods.”
“Did he say what he was doing out here?”
“No, and I didn’t ask. I don’t stick my nose into other people’s business. They don’t bother me, I don’t bother them.”
“Did he have any equipment with him?” Stride asked. “Did you see anything in the car?”
“Like what?”
“Rope. Zip ties. Any kind of weapon.”
“Not that I saw. Shit, if he had a gun, I’d think twice about stopping. But it’s not like this guy looked like some punk who was planning to jack me, you know? He looked legit.”
“Did he give you his name?” Stride asked.
“No. No name. He called, told me where he was. That’s all.”
“Did you write down the license plate of the car? Or did you ask to see his driver’s license?”
“Why would I do that? I changed the tire, and I was done.”
“So you can’t verify that it was him?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah, but I’m telling you, I recognize his face. It was this Webster guy.”
“How did he pay?” Stride asked. “Did he use a credit card?”
Rex shook his head. “Cash. That was pretty nice, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Service plus the tire came to a little over four hundred bucks. Guy didn’t have change and didn’t want any. He peeled off five hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them over and told me to keep the rest.”
Stride exchanged a look with Maggie.
“He gave you hundred-dollar bills?” Maggie asked.
“Yeah.”
“And this was last Sunday morning?”
“I already told you that,” Rex complained.
Stride took Maggie’s elbow, and the two of them retreated down the grassy trail again. He studied the road leading into the woods, and he felt the hammer of rain, not caring that he was getting soaked. Next to him, water dripped like a slow leak from Maggie’s bangs. Over their heads, lightning split the dark clouds. A few seconds later, thunder beat loud enough that he could feel it inside his chest.
“Gavin had hundreds in his wallet before the kidnapping,” Stride said. “Before the ransom demand.”
“That doesn’t prove anything,” Maggie pointed out.
“No, but it’s an interesting coincidence.” He stared into the woods, which were thick and dark and stretched for miles. They were the perfect hiding place. A body left somewhere in those woods was unlikely ever to be found. It would just slowly disappear into the ground.
“Did anyone actually see Chelsey on Sunday or Monday?” Stride asked. “Or talk to her?”
“Not that I know of, but we weren’t checking her whereabouts that early. Gavin says the abduction took place on Tuesday night.”
“Right, but we only have his word for that. We also only have his word that he got proof of life from the kidnappers.”
“You think he killed Chelsey and hid the body before he went to see his parents in Rice Lake?” Maggie asked.
“Maybe. Then he used Hink Miller to help him stage the ransom drop, and when he didn’t need him anymore, he got rid of Hink.”
Maggie frowned. “But there was evidence that Chelsey was transported in Hink’s trunk.”
“Gavin could have planted that evidence,” Stride said. “It’s part of the narrative. Make us think the kidnapping was real.”
Maggie shook her head. “You see, this is why I hate lawyers.”
Stride took a few steps into the woods. He inhaled the rain-tinged air. He looked for footsteps. Broken branches. Torn clothes. A path that would lead to a burying place. But there was nothing. Gavin wouldn’t have made the truth that easy to find.
As he stood in the downpour, though, Stride felt something else, something that had been missing from his life for fourteen long months. A sense of belonging. A sense of purpose. The gears of his life were fitting together again. Serena. His marriage. And his job.
He finally had his answer. He was back.
“We better get the dogs out here,” Stride said. “It’s time to search.”
26
In the morning, Serena took Cat back to UMD. They didn’t say much, but Cat wore a sly smile on her face the whole time, which likely meant that Serena and Stride had been loud enough in their lovemaking for the girl to overhear. Serena didn’t confirm what had happened, but she didn’t feel any embarrassment, either. Instead, she felt exhilaration, as if she’d finally turned a page with Jonny. And with herself.
After she dropped Cat on campus, she headed south through the rain to the outlying town of Proctor. That was where Zach Larsen’s parents lived. It was where Nikki and Delaney had lived, too. She visited Nikki’s old house first. It had been sold since her death, but Serena felt no need to see the interior again. The house was located on the corner of a country road on the north side of town, in the shadow of a rusted white water tower. A swampy wetland festered near the street. The lot was large, but the house itself was a small rambler, dwarfed by tall birch trees surrounding it. An unpaved driveway led to a detached two-car garage. When she’d arrived at the house that Sunday in May two years earlier, she’d found Delaney sitting on the front porch, oblivious to the flashing lights and multiple police cars parked around her. Paul Vavra had been waiting inside with the body of his daughter.
His first words to her had been, “Nikki wouldn’t have done this.”
Serena sat in her Mustang on the quiet, rainy street and revisited the events of Nikki’s last weekend. The medical examiner estimated that the body had been lying in the bed since sometime Friday night. According to Paul and Delaney, Nikki had been alive on Friday afternoon. The UPS package with the figurine and deer whistles had been delivered on Saturday and never claimed from the porch.