Brian Freeman - Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7)

A revolver was on the carpet where she’d dropped it.

‘Step away from the gun, ma’am,’ Stride told her, but she didn’t move. She didn’t seem to hear him. She was in a daze as he came closer.

‘Who are you?’ he asked.

‘My name is Carol Marlowe,’ she replied.

Stride got close enough to see the rest of the bed, and he understood what had happened. Janine lay among the tangled sheets. Naked. Dead. The two of them — Janine and Howard — had both been shot in the head. Howard’s wife had killed them in the aftermath of their lovemaking.

‘That bitch ruined our lives,’ Carol murmured. ‘She took everything from me.’

There was nothing he could say. Stride kicked the gun on the floor away from her. Maggie came up behind Howard’s wife, who offered no resistance to the handcuffs that Maggie locked around her wrists. Carol was limp as Maggie led her away, but as they reached Howard’s body, she came to life and began to wail and cry. Maggie had to physically restrain her as she fought to get to her dead husband.

‘Howard! Oh, God, Howard! I’m sorry!’

The door closed. The screams continued in the hallway.

Stride and Serena were alone with the bodies. The suite smelled of gunpowder and sex. The patio door was partially open, letting in sweet lake air and the humid reminder of rain.

He checked Janine’s pulse for final confirmation, but she was gone. Her eyes were closed with a strange look of peace. Her nakedness still had beauty, and her skin was as warm as life. He felt an urge to cover her, but there was no modesty in death. She was guilty. She was innocent. She was a heroine. She was the devil. She was all of those things.

His anger at her bled away into regret. One thing Stride never did was get emotional at crime scenes, but he felt an unexpected sense of loss. As if the universe were saying there were no such things as new beginnings. He didn’t want to believe that. Maybe the lesson was simply that you couldn’t escape the sins of your past. Sooner or later, they caught up with you.

He couldn’t look away from the woman on the bed. The strange thing was that he couldn’t see Janine’s face without seeing Cindy in his mind, too. January 28. Almost a decade ago, when everything was different. He could see his wife in the shadows of their bedroom that night. The moonlight shined on the bare skin of her shoulder. He could smell the smoke of his own cigarette as he told her about Janine and Jay.

They were both so young then. They didn’t know what lay ahead. How everything was about to change.

That was then. This was now.

Stride sat on the green bench at the end of the Point. His legs were stretched out, and the rippled waters of Superior Bay lapped at his boots. Yellow wildflowers sprouted along the beach. The late-summer sun had fallen behind the western hills, leaving an orange glow in the clouds. He was alone, but if he stared deeply into the semi-darkness, he could almost imagine Cindy beside him, the way she’d been for so many years. Her legs pulled into a lotus position on the bench. Her hands on her knees, her chin tilted toward the sky. Her long black hair cascading to her hips.

Here I am, Jonny , she would say. Don’t you see me?

It wasn’t real, of course. It was simply another Thursday evening. Serena was out at a movie. Cat was in her room at the cottage, doing her puzzles. Life hadn’t changed at all.

And yet he could still close his eyes and make Cindy come alive. As if no time had passed. As if the real dream were all the years that had happened in between. Elsewhere in his life, she’d become a ghost who haunted him less and less, but here, by the water, she was always waiting for him. Here there was never a need to say goodbye.

Stride watched the bay, trying to memorize every wave. They’d been here together so many times. Lived so much of their lives in this place. Talked and cried and laughed. Remembered.

How old were we when we first came here?

Seventeen. Cat’s age.

You asked me to marry you here.

Yes, I did.

What did I say?

You said not yet.

I’d only known you a week.

That’s true.

He knew what love at first sight was. He’d asked Cindy again at the end of the summer, and that time she’d said yes, although they didn’t tell anyone they were engaged. Not her father. Not Stride’s mother. It was their secret for a while.

Good things have happened at this bench.

And bad things, too.

Yes, and bad things. That’s life.

He came here at turning points. Good, bad, up, down. In many ways, this was ground zero for who he was. Put a pin in a map, and this was where you would find the soul of Jonathan Stride. In Duluth. On the Point. By the water. Not staring out at the lake but inward at the calm harbor and the industry of ships and docks. Life in the northland.

He wondered what Cindy would have said about Janine, now that they knew the truth. Her friend was guilty after all; her friend had used and deceived her. And yet he knew the person Cindy was. She would still be sad. She would still cry that Janine was gone. He felt that same sadness himself, but it wasn’t really for Janine’s death. She’d simply been one last open door to another time in his life. A door that had finally closed.

Tell me you’re not still pining after me.

That was what Cindy would say. And the answer was no. Not anymore. For a long time, he’d refused to let go of her, but not anymore.

‘I need to tell you something,’ he said aloud, as if she could hear him.

But there was no need to say it. Wherever she was, she was at peace with herself and with him. She would understand what he wanted to do next. She would say he’d already waited too long. You’ve got someone in your life you’re scared of losing again. And that’s a good thing.

Yes, it was a good thing.

He wished he could touch Cindy again, or smile with her, or have her with him for a few more seconds — but when he stared at the empty bench, she was gone. She’d been gone for years. There was nothing around him but the bay and the sand. It was the story of their relationship. She was there, and she was there, and she was there, and then she was gone.

He was alone.

Except he wasn’t. Not anymore. Not if he didn’t want to be. Not if he believed in the future.

Serena found Maggie in the basement bar of Tycoon’s on Superior Street, across from the casino. Stride’s partner sat alone with a Starfire ale at a candlelit table near one of the rough sandstone columns. The pub was located inside Duluth’s old City Hall, and the downstairs bar with its low ceilings had once served as the town prison. You could still see century-old names scratched into the stone from people who’d lived here among the dripping water and the rats.

Maggie held up her pint glass in a toast. ‘Well, well, Serena Dial. Of all the gin joints in all the world. How did you find me?’

Serena sat down across from her. She didn’t drink, but the bartender knew her, and he brought her a tall Diet Coke with crushed ice. ‘You weren’t at your condo, so Tycoon’s seemed like a safe bet.’

‘I thought about Black Water, but I was more in the mood for a beer tonight than a martini.’

Serena didn’t think the Starfire in front of Maggie was her first. ‘Can I tell you something? Speaking as an alcoholic with experience in such things.’

‘Go for it.’

‘You drink too much.’

‘And you think I don’t know this?’ Maggie asked.

‘No, I’m sure you do, but if you’re like me, you don’t start paying attention until your friends mention it.’