Brian Freeman - In the Dark aka The Watcher

Two lines he would have preferred remain parallel, never touching, so that the past didn’t infect the present.

Finn drove a silver RAV.

There was no escape from the heat.

Even on the Point, which usually enjoyed a cool breeze off the lake, the evening air was stifling. Stride parked in the mud near his cottage. Heat radiated off the dirt, and the leaves drooped in the trees around him. Serena wasn’t home. He didn’t bother going inside but instead climbed the shallow dune in order to watch the dusk descend on the lake. He and Serena kept two chairs in the sand at the crest of the hill, where they often sat to drink coffee in the mornings.

One of the chairs was occupied. It was Tish.

She didn’t look at him as he took a seat next to her. Her eyes were locked in the distance, watching sailboats on the water. She had a plastic bag in her lap, which she protected with both hands, as if it were a child that might squirm away and fall. They didn’t say anything. The lake was still, like pale blue china, and the line where the sky and the water met was lost in a sticky haze.

“I went to the wrong house,” she said finally.

Stride didn’t reply.

“It was the house where you and Cindy used to live. The people there told me how to find you.”

“I haven’t lived there in a long time.”

“I know,” Tish said, turning to study his face. “Cindy showed me a photograph of your house once. I never forgot it. I recognized it as soon as I saw it. I guess I never really thought about all the time that had passed. Somehow I thought you’d still be there. Cindy, too. I suppose that sounds crazy.”

“No, it happens to me, too,” Stride said. “But Cindy’s gone. So is Laura. So are their parents. It’s almost as if the whole family never existed.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s just the way it is.”

“I understand how you feel,” Tish said. “I lost my mother. I lost Laura. In a strange way, when Cindy died, I felt orphaned again. Like she was the last link to my past and my family. But I’m not comparing my loss to yours.”

Stride said nothing.

“There’s something I need to tell you about my book,” Tish said. “I’ve written the early chapters in Cindy’s voice. I tell the story through her eyes.”

Stride’s face tensed with dismay. “Why did you do that?”

“She was there. She was the witness.”

“You don’t have a free pass into her life,” he snapped, his voice getting louder. “Or mine.”

Tish looked flustered. “I’m sorry. She’s part of the story. So are you.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to walk on her grave.”

“I’m not doing that at all. I swear.”

Stride shrugged. There was a weight on his chest.

“I didn’t realize this would make you so uncomfortable,” she said.

“It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?” she asked.

“Nothing. Forget it. This isn’t about you or your book.”

He wanted to say something more, but he didn’t. He wanted to tell her how angry he was that his grief came alive every time he saw her. He wanted to confess to someone that he felt guilty, because he had allowed Cindy to slip back into the daily beating of his heart, where Serena belonged now. Instead, he pushed away his emotions and changed the subject.

“After what happened to your car, I’d like to keep an officer outside your condo overnight,” he told her.

Tish blinked. He knew she could hear the sudden coolness in his voice. “So this time you don’t think it’s just kids.”

“I don’t know, but I’d rather not take any chances.”

“Okay, sure, whatever you want.”

Tish took the bag on her lap and passed it across to him silently. Stride looked inside and saw a white dress, neatly folded. “This is for you,” she said. “I’m not sure you’ll understand what I did. Or why I did it.”

He grew concerned. “What is this?”

“You’ll find a sample of Peter Stanhope’s DNA in a bloodstain on the dress,” Tish said.

Stride closed the bag and stared at the sky. “What the hell did you do?”

“What I had to.”

“Son of a bitch, Tish, are you out of your mind?”

“Look, Peter is guilty , and you told me flat out that there’s no way the courts can force him to give us a sample. So I took it. I hope I left a scar, too.”

“You just confessed to battery.”

“He started it when he tried to kiss me, the bastard. I know what you think, but I got us something we never had before. A way to confirm whether Peter was stalking Laura.”

Stride shook his head. “It’s not that simple. There’s a reason why a court wouldn’t compel a DNA sample. We don’t have any probable cause. Even if we run the test and find out that Stanhope was sending Laura those notes, that doesn’t change anything. It’s not like Pat Burns is going to put him in front of a jury. It’s not going to happen.”

“Are you saying you won’t run the sample?”

“Do you think I just snap my fingers and get these things done? There’s a backlog. There are other priorities. It’s one thing to compare DNA in a stalker note against a database to try to break a cold case open. It’s another to test one specific individual just because you’ve got it in your head that he’s guilty.”

“Don’t make it worthless, Jon. Tell me I didn’t do this for nothing.”

“I’ll talk to Pat Burns. That’s all I can do.”

“I can’t believe you’d ignore this,” Tish insisted. “I can’t believe you’d walk away from the one chance we have to find out what really happened. You heard Finn’s story. Peter assaulted Laura that night. He was in the field with the bat after Dada rescued her.”

“Finn has no credibility. If there’s one person whose DNA I’d like to run, it’s Finn.”

“What are you talking about? You think Finn killed Laura?”

“I think it’s a damn strong possibility. Finn is deranged, Tish. It’s not a big leap to think he was capable of murder.”

“You’re giving Peter Stanhope a free pass. Is it because of his money? Did you learn your lessons from Ray Wallace?” She stopped. Her eyes widened as she realized what she had said. “God, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“No one gets a free pass from me,” Stride said.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You’re the one who can’t see past Peter Stanhope,” Stride said. “There are plenty of other people who are hiding things about Laura. Including you.”

“Me?”

“Rikke said you were jealous of Laura’s relationship with Peter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It looks to me like you’re obsessed with him,” Stride said.

“This isn’t about Peter. No one else was standing up for Laura, so I decided it was up to me.”

“Why?”

“She was my best friend.”

“So why were the two of you fighting that spring?”

“We weren’t. We were past it.”

“What was the fight about?”

“I told you that I don’t remember. It was thirty years ago.”

“You’re lying, Tish. Don’t lie to a cop and think I won’t know. Were you fighting about Peter Stanhope? Is that why you’re so focused on Peter? It makes me wonder whether you had a motive to kill Laura.”

“That’s crazy. You don’t honestly think I would go through all this trouble if I had anything to do with her murder, do you?”

“Where were you that night?” Stride asked.

“I already told you. I was living in St. Paul.”

“No, what specifically were you doing that night? Where were you? Who were you with?”

Tish shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“That’s strange. I’d think you’d remember what you were doing the night your best friend was brutally murdered.”