The Cold Nowhere

26

Serena first came into his life at the Duluth airport as she walked off the plane from Las Vegas, dressed like a Bellagio model. Baby blue leather pants, honey sunglasses, a form-fitting white T-shirt and a black raincoat so long it almost swept the floor. She wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. His first wife, Cindy, had been small and fiery, a sprite who wore every emotion on her sleeve. Serena was as tall as Stride in her sky-high heels, and her attitude was cool and wary. She was as curvy as a showgirl, with a razor-sharp wit, but she wore a sign warning away strangers from trespassing.

Don’t come inside. Stay away.

He wore a sign like that himself. His own sign, with Cindy’s name on it, was about grief and loss. Serena’s was about a childhood wrecked by abuse. They were both damaged, both alike, for better or worse. Two half-souls.

In their first days together they worked a cold case from Duluth to Las Vegas, and along the way their attraction spilled over into sex. They fell in love. He was married then – a second marriage, a bad marriage. He and a teacher named Andrea had pretended to be in love, but when he met Serena, he realized that his marriage was a sham. When it fell apart, he moved to Las Vegas to be with Serena, but he was a fish out of water among the barren mountains and casinos. There was only one place Stride could live, and that was in Duluth, in the shadow of the lake, under the dark cover of the bitter winters.

He came home, and Serena came with him. Neither one of them really thought it would work. You couldn’t take a girl who grew up in the desert, like a saguaro, and expect her to thrive in the frozen north. They were both wrong. Serena had no roots here, but slowly, with each season, she came to feel at home in Minnesota. He’d always taken the idea of home for granted, because every street in Duluth was the sum of its memories for him. Not for Serena. To her, home meant tearing down the past and starting over.

That was what they tried to do on the Point. They ate breakfast on Sunday mornings at Amazing Grace. They made love in the middle of the night, breathlessly, invisibly. They listened to the waves of Superior on the other side of the dune. They were as close and connected as two people could be, but sometimes it was like they lived apart, behind the walls they’d built. He’d feel her pushing him away when she felt vulnerable. He would do the same thing.

Don’t come inside. Stay away.

For him, Michaela was one of those walls. He’d never mentioned her to Serena; he’d never even breathed her name. Michaela, who still haunted him. Michaela, who had been the only woman in his married life to make him wonder, even for a day, whether he could love someone other than Cindy. Michaela, whose death had made him feel every stab wound as if it had gone into his own body.

He stared at Serena in the doorway, and his first thought was: Why did I keep Michaela a secret from you?

*

‘You look great,’ he said, and she did.

She’d lost weight. Her stomach was flat and hard. Her arms looked strong. She wore a black turtleneck that hugged her skin and accentuated the swell of her full breasts. Her jeans made her legs look long and sleek. Standing atop sharp heels, she was eye to eye with him.

‘So do you,’ she said.

He invited her inside. It felt odd, because she didn’t need an invitation. She’d lived here for years. She would wander through the back door, kick off her heels, and drop grocery bags on the counter. She would join him in the living room from the shower, trailing steam, working a brush through her damp hair. The most natural thing in the world was for the two of them to be here together, but they both felt awkward.

‘I heard about Kim Dehne,’ she told him. ‘Did you talk to Bob?’

‘I finally reached him.’

‘They were a sweet couple. It’s an awful thing.’ She added, ‘The girl you found in the DECC – it wasn’t Cat Mateo, right?’

‘Cat’s fine,’ Stride said. ‘She’s on the porch out back.’

‘I got your message, and you were right. Margot knew her. I found an article she wrote, and it’s obviously about Catalina.’ Serena pulled a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to him.

As he read the article, Serena made a tour of the living room. Her eyes flitted to the walls and the furniture, and he knew she was noticing that he’d changed nothing since she left. Maggie had come and gone from the house without leaving fingerprints. Serena stopped near the attic stairs. Each wooden stair was narrower than the one above it, and at the top were two closed doors. They had talked about finishing the attic, but they had never made plans for how to use the space, so it was still a mess of spider webs and sharp nails jutting from the roof beams.

‘Steve says I need to dust,’ he told her.

‘Yeah, it could use a wipe-down, Jonny. I suppose you’re not home a lot.’

‘You know how it goes.’

‘I do.’

He finished the article and knew that Serena was right. Margot was writing about Cat. She’d done a beautiful job of capturing the girl’s broken life and of making her human rather than a shadowy other who hangs out in doorways. See this girl? She could be your daughter.

He also noticed that Margot made no reference to Cat taking a limo ride up the north shore to service a wealthy man at a vacation resort. He’d read Margot’s writings before, and she loved that kind of savage detail, particularly if it exposed the intersection of heartlessness and power. A sixteen-year-old girl with a rich lawyer or banker? The only way Margot would have skipped that anecdote was if she omitted it deliberately in order to investigate further. She was a reporter, and reporters knew the smell of scandal.

He looked up. Serena was staring at him.

‘So do you want to bring me up to date?’ she said.

She kept their reunion on safe ground. Talk about work. Talk about the case. Don’t talk about each other. He gave her a summary of the events of the weekend. Cat’s story, his suspicions about Vincent Roslak and William Green, the clue from Brandy that led to Margot, the vicious murders overnight. He also mentioned Steve’s speculation about hookers with wealthy clients.

‘Did you find any hints in your investigation that Margot could have been looking into upscale prostitution?’ he asked.

‘I can’t be sure, but it’s definitely possible. Based on her phone records and credit card info, she met with a lot of one-percenters around the northland in the weeks before she disappeared. Nobody volunteered anything about escorts, but it’s not like they would. I can get a list of names and photos of the people Margot saw. Maybe Cat will recognize one of them.’

‘Margot may have been thinking the same thing,’ Stride suggested. ‘That would explain why she was trying to find Cat again.’

‘And why someone would be desperate to get rid of both of them,’ Serena said. ‘I want to find out exactly who Margot talked to that last weekend. We know she was in Duluth trying to find Cat, but nobody breathed a word about it to the police after she disappeared. That sounds like somebody didn’t want us to connect the dots.’

‘I know where I would have started if I were Margot,’ Stride said. ‘Cat’s guardians. William and Sophie Green.’

‘Yeah, me too.’

They both turned toward the kitchen as a young voice shouted from the porch.

‘I finished the puzzle!’ Cat announced.

She slid into the great space in her socks with a girlish excitement that made her seem younger than she was. ‘That was a really easy one—’ she began, but she skidded to a stop as she saw Serena standing by the stairs to the attic. ‘Oh!’

‘Hi, Cat,’ Serena said.

Cat’s eyes flicked between the two of them. ‘Who are you?’

‘My name’s Serena.’

Cat studied her with curious interest, as if she were a model on a runway. ‘Wow, you’re like really gorgeous.’

Serena laughed. He’d missed her laughter. ‘I was about to tell you the same thing.’

Cat blushed in embarrassment, but Stride could tell she was pleased by the compliment.

‘You used to live here, right?’ Cat said. ‘Mr. Stride let me wear one of your shirts.’

‘Mr. Stride,’ Serena said, with amused eyes. ‘I bet he’d be okay if you called him Stride. Most people do. And yes, you’re right, I used to live here.’

‘But you don’t anymore?’ Cat asked.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Serena works for the sheriff’s department in Itasca County,’ Stride interjected quickly. ‘She’s investigating the disappearance of that reporter you met. Margot Huizenfelt.’

‘Oh, okay.’ Cat’s mouth twitched with concern. ‘Is she dead?’

‘I hope not,’ Serena said.

‘Do you know why she was looking for me?’

‘No, but Jonny and I are going to find out.’

The name slipped easily from her lips. Jonny. She’d always called him that. Just like Cindy did. Cat didn’t miss the familiarity in her voice or the fact that they stood on opposite sides of the room, like nervous boxers. For a young girl, she didn’t miss much.

‘People are dying, and it’s my fault,’ Cat said.

‘It’s not,’ Stride told her.

‘He’s right, Cat,’ Serena added. ‘Don’t blame yourself.’

‘I ran away. If I’d stayed home with the Greens, none of this would have happened.’

Serena sat down on the attic steps. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. ‘We don’t know if that’s true, and from what Jonny tells me, you didn’t have much of a choice about running away. You were being hurt, right? It’s okay to say so.’

‘Yeah, Mr. Green would hit me sometimes. A lot of times, I guess. I probably deserved it.’

‘You didn’t. No child deserves it.’

‘I could have done something. I could have said something.’

‘That’s not always how it works,’ Serena said. ‘It’s nice if you can, but sometimes you can’t. I get it.’

Cat shrugged. ‘You’re strong. Someone like you would have just kicked him in the balls.’

Stride watched Serena and saw the hardness in her face come and go. The memory. The pain. He wondered what she would say, if she would say anything at all. Back then, she would have kept her past hidden; she would never have shared it with a stranger.

‘I wish I had,’ Serena told Cat softly, ‘but I ran away, too.’

Cat’s head cocked in confusion. ‘What do you mean?’

Serena said nothing, but she held Cat’s stare across the room, girl to girl, woman to woman. Eventually, Cat understood. ‘You?’ she asked.

‘Me,’ Serena said. ‘Not just physical abuse. There was more. Bad stuff.’

‘How old?’

‘Your age. Sixteen.’

Cat’s brown eyes welled with tears. She stuck a finger in her mouth and chewed a nail.

‘I don’t talk about it a lot,’ Serena went on, ‘but I live with it now. You will, too.’

Cat swallowed hard. Her hair fell across her face. She danced on her feet, and without saying a word, she turned and ran through the kitchen. Serena winced, as if she’d breathed on a house of cards and made it fall. He heard her swear at herself under her breath.

Stride followed Cat and found her on the musty sofa on the rear porch. He sat down next to her. The young girl stared at the completed puzzle of the lift bridge, its pieces knitted together. She continued to chew a nail. One tear made a glossy line on her cheek.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

Cat shrugged her shoulders.

‘You don’t have to deal with any of this alone,’ he said. ‘Serena knows what it’s like. She can help. So can I.’

Cat still said nothing. Her stare was blank. He felt her pushing him away.

‘Serena and I have to go out for a while,’ he told her. ‘I have a police officer coming to stay with you while we’re gone. We won’t leave until he gets here.’

Stride stood up, and Cat turned and threw her arms around his waist. He didn’t move. She clung to him silently, and when she finally let go, she wiped her face and ducked her chin into her neck. He reached out and stroked her hair.

‘Hey, Stride?’ Cat murmured, as he turned to leave.

He stared down at her. ‘What is it?’

‘I like her.’





27

They drove in Stride’s Expedition. Neither one of them spoke.

As he came out of the S-curve on the Point near the canal, he spotted an ore boat in the harbor heading toward the lake. The lift bridge was already closed. Five cars waited in line, and he pulled in behind them and shut off the engine. The radio, which had been playing a Patty Loveless bluegrass song, went quiet.

He opened the driver’s door and cold air blew inside. There was no rain, but the streets and sidewalks were wet.

‘I’m not sure what to say to you,’ he admitted.

‘You don’t have to say anything, Jonny.’

Across the short space of the truck, he could smell her perfume. Her fragrance hadn’t changed. She wore the emerald earrings he’d given her.

‘That was sweet of Valerie and Callie to send me that jigsaw puzzle for Christmas,’ he said. ‘Are you still living with them?’

‘I am.’

‘I’m glad you stayed close by.’

Serena looked out the window. ‘I went back to Las Vegas for a week in January. I wanted to see if there was anything still there for me.’

‘Was there?’

‘My old partner, Cordy, he said they wanted me back on Metro. All I had to do was say yes.’

‘What did you tell him?’

Serena didn’t answer. She turned and stared at him. It had been a long time since he watched her green eyes. ‘I stayed with Claire while I was there,’ she added.

‘Okay.’

Stride remembered Claire. In the short time he’d spent with Serena in Las Vegas, they had become enmeshed in a case involving a serial killer and an old-line mob family. Claire, whose father ran one of the city’s largest casinos, became a target, and Serena had been the cop assigned to protect her. Along the way, Claire fell in love with her. The relationship had awakened confused sexual feelings in Serena, and Stride had thought he might lose her.

‘Claire asked me to take a job as head of security at her new casino,’ Serena said. She gave a little ironic smile. ‘And live with her, of course. She has a mansion in Lake Las Vegas. Really nice.’

‘So what did you decide?’

‘I told them both no,’ she said.

‘Why?’

Serena shook her head without explaining. ‘Your turn, Jonny. Tell me about you.’

The superstructure of the ore boat glided like a graceful giant under the span of the lift bridge. ‘I’m sure you heard that my relationship with Maggie went nowhere,’ he said.

‘I did.’

‘She said she was tired of living with a ghost, and she didn’t mean Cindy. She knew I still loved you.’

‘I guess I should say I’m sorry.’

‘That’s the last thing you should say. I’m the one who’s sorry.’

Serena brushed a strand of black hair from her eyes. ‘You said you were sorry months ago. I said I forgave you. I nearly fell in love with Claire a few years ago, and you forgave me. We’re not perfect. I don’t expect us to be. As angry as I was, I never doubted that you were still in love with me.’

‘But?’

‘But it’s not about that anymore.’

‘Then what is it about?’

‘I won’t be in love with a stranger, Jonny.’

‘I’m not sure that’s fair,’ he said.

Serena took a breath before she went on, as if she wanted to get each word exactly right. ‘Maybe not, but it felt that way last fall. You were a million miles away from me, and I couldn’t reach you. I know we were both at fault. I know I closed myself off, too, but that’s over. I’m done running from my past. No shame. No apologies. This is me.’ Her voice rose, and it quivered as she talked louder. ‘I came back from Las Vegas for one reason. Not for a job. Not for a home. I came back because I still love you. But that’s not enough, not when I don’t know if you’ll shut me out again the next time things get bad. If you still want me, if you really want me, then you’re going to have to come get me, and you better be prepared to let me inside. All the way. No more secrets.’

He’d never seen this side of her. She’d always been tough, but toughness meant stringing up barbed wire around her soul. This was different. Now she was holding out a hand for him to join her, and he didn’t know how to take the first step.

Someone hit the horn behind them.

He looked up and saw that the bridge was back down, and the traffic in front of him had cleared. He drove into Duluth.

*

Twenty miles south of the city, near the exit to the Black Bear Casino, traffic stalled as orange pylons blocked the right lane. Stride put an emergency light on the hood of his truck and steered onto the gravel shoulder. He drove a half-mile and stopped near a paving truck where a band of highway workers jackhammered the asphalt. One of the men, fat and round, with a ponytail dangling from his hard hat, was William Green.

Drizzle spattered the windshield. Stride removed his gun from the holster inside his jacket and locked it inside his glove compartment.

‘What are you doing?’ Serena asked.

‘I’d prefer not to shoot him,’ he said.

‘Good thinking.’

They got out of the truck. Six feet away, on the other side of the ribbon of cones, traffic whipped by with a surge of air pressure. The noise was deafening, and the ground shook under their feet.

Green saw them, and Stride crooked his finger, beckoning the man closer. The highway worker made a slashing motion across his throat to the other men, and the jackhammer went silent. He marched closer, only inches from the speeding cars. When he reached Stride, he took off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow.

‘What do you want?’ he said. ‘I’m busy. Frost heaves blew out the lane overnight. We need to patch it up.’

‘This won’t take long,’ Stride said.

He introduced Serena, and Green checked out her body with a quick glance. So did the other workers behind him. He thought they would have wolf-whistled if she hadn’t been a cop.

‘Where were you last night, Mr. Green?’ Stride said.

‘Home.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Watching the Wolves and the Heat. Drinking beer. Why?’

‘Was your wife with you?’

‘No, we had a fight after you left. She stayed at her sister’s in Cloquet.’

‘Did you talk to anyone? See anyone?’

‘Just LeBron.’

An SUV passed, close enough to clip one of the traffic cones and send it spiraling into the air. It flew close to Green’s head, but the man didn’t flinch. He gestured at one of the workers to retrieve it, and he shoved his hands into his baggy pockets. Behind them, other cars braked as the cone rolled into the lane.

‘You ought to give that son of a bitch a ticket,’ he told Stride. ‘Do something useful instead of leaning on me.’

‘I’m just getting started.’

‘What does that mean?’ Green asked. ‘What is this about?’

‘It means we talked to Cat about you.’

‘Yeah? So?’

‘She says you liked to beat her up.’

Green wiped rain from his nose, leaving a smear of dirt on his face. ‘Whatever she told you, it’s not true. I never laid a hand on her.’

Stride tried to calm himself, but the thumping vibration and rush of air with each speeding car fed his adrenaline. ‘Remember what I told you yesterday, Mr. Green? I made you a promise.’

‘Yeah, I remember.’

‘I’ll be watching you,’ Stride told him.

‘I bet you will.’

Serena physically stepped between the two men. ‘I have some questions for you, Mr. Green. It’s about Margot Huizenfelt.’

‘Who?’

‘She’s a reporter. She’s missing.’

‘Huizenfelt. Yeah. Okay, sure, I saw it on TV. What about her?’

‘The day before she disappeared, she was looking for Cat. Did she talk to you?’

Green didn’t answer immediately. The dust of crushed rock blew in their faces. ‘I don’t remember.’

Serena and Stride exchanged a glance. She rubbed dust off her skin. The passing cars felt huge and dangerous.

‘Maybe your neighbors remember her, Mr. Green,’ she said. ‘We could talk to all of them. We could ask them about you and Cat, too. Or how about your co-workers over there? Most of them are parents. I wonder what they’d think if they knew you liked to take out your anger on a teenage girl.’

Green glanced nervously over his shoulder. ‘Shit, all right,’ he hissed. ‘It’s no big deal. This reporter came to the house on a Saturday afternoon. She asked me how she could find Cat. I didn’t know where the hell she was, and that’s what I told her.’

‘Margot wrote an article about Cat a few months ago. Did she talk to you back then?’

‘She tried. I told her to get lost.’

‘What time did she show up at your house on that Saturday?’

Green shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Four, five, something like that. Sophie was going to be back any minute, and I wanted that bitch out of there before she got home. I told her if she wanted to find Cat, she should try the usual places. The shelter. The graffiti graveyard. Lake Place Park. Wherever the runaways hang out.’

‘Did she say why she wanted to find her?’

‘No.’

‘She must have said something,’ Serena insisted.

‘She wanted to know about Cat and her parents. What did I know about Michaela and Marty. Shit like that.’

‘What did you tell her?’

‘I told her Marty was a son of a bitch! What the hell else would I say? Whenever he was drunk, he beat the shit out of whoever was closest to him. Usually, that was me.’ Green pointed at a two-inch white scar high on his forehead. ‘He gave me that one in December that last winter. I’ve got more.’

‘Anything else?’ Serena asked. ‘Did Margot want to know about anyone else?’

‘Yeah, she asked about Dory,’ Green replied. ‘She wasn’t just looking for Cat. She was trying to find Dory, too.’