The Cold Nowhere

28

Brooke Hahne sat in the basement café known as Amazing Grace. It was a college hang-out, but Brooke came here several times a week. Sometimes she kept an eye open for kids who needed help. Sometimes she hid in a corner and nursed a chai latte as she wrote grant proposals for The Praying Hands. Sometimes, like tonight, she came for the band.

Steve Garske’s band was called Doc of the Bay. That was cute.

Steve was no Brad Paisley on the guitar, but he could lay down a good riff on songs like ‘One More Last Chance’. He had a mellow voice that made for a good cover of Vince Gill, who was one of Brooke’s favorites. She liked the old-style, twangy country music. Prison songs. Raspy, bourbon-soaked voices. Lots of steel. She was probably the only George Jones fan who had just turned thirty.

On stage, Steve’s fingers flew like a pro. She saw a sheen of sweat on his brow under the hot lights. As he wrapped up his solo, the crammed café erupted in applause, and he bowed with a shy grin, pushing back his blond hair. Brooke toasted him with her latte. Steve winked at her.

She examined the crowd squeezed around the handful of weathered wooden tables. Most of them were under twenty-five, except for a handful of aging ex-hippies in hemp sweaters. She had a tiny circular table to herself, but a dozen people stood over her. When the music stopped, a college kid squatted next to her. He couldn’t have been more than nineteen. He was cute and gangly, with a shaggy haircut that went out with the Monkees, and he didn’t even look old enough to shave. College boys had no sense of a woman’s age.

‘Hey, you alone?’ he asked.

‘I’m waiting for someone,’ Brooke said.

‘Well, how about I wait with you?’

Brooke rolled her eyes. Tall, skinny, fit blonds drew boys like mosquitoes. Usually, they wilted away with a simple brush-off that dented their egos. Others, the cocky ones, needed a firmer rejection.

‘I’m involved,’ she said.

‘Yeah? With who?’

She gestured at Steve Garske, who gulped bottled water on stage as they geared up for the second set. ‘Him. The singer.’

The boy’s hair almost dangled in Brooke’s drink. ‘He’s like a million years old.’

‘What can I say? I’m a groupie.’

‘What’s he got that I ain’t got?’

Brooke cupped her hands by his ear. The kid’s face scrunched up with disbelief. ‘No way,’ he said.

Brooke took her index fingers and slowly spread them apart.

‘Holy shit,’ the kid said. He left her alone and she saw him talking frantically to three of his buddies.

Brooke smiled to herself. The truth was that she was dating no one, but an imaginary boyfriend spared her an evening of come-ons. Poor Steve. She couldn’t remember him dating a soul in the years she’d known him. He always claimed to be too busy for sex, between his medical practice and his band. After tonight, he’d probably wonder why women were clamoring for his attention.

She liked Steve. The fact that he was as asexual as she was made her feel comfortable around him. He’d never made a salacious comment of any kind about her, and that was rare. Most men, married or unmarried, didn’t wait five minutes to comment on her looks. Donors to the shelter were the worst. With other men, she simply shot them down, but with donors, she had to play the game, as dirty as it made her feel.

Brooke hadn’t slept with a man in five years. Her last relationship, with an intellectual property attorney from Minneapolis, had ended after their first night together. She didn’t blame him. She was frozen in bed, not even mustering a pretense of excitement. To her, sex was a chore. Since then, she’d routinely turned down dates, because she was tired of faking interest. She wasn’t gay, but she loathed men. Rich or poor, young or old, handsome or ugly, they were all the same. Abusers. Manipulators. Predators.

Her cell phone vibrated on the table. She picked it up and read the incoming text.

I’m outside.

Brooke drained the last drops of her coffee drink and stood up. Her table was immediately swarmed. She climbed onto the stage and marched in her black heels up to Steve, who was draped over a wooden chair that was too small for him. His face was flushed, and he laughed as he chatted with his bandmates. She bent down and practically had to shout.

‘I have to go. I’m meeting someone.’

Steve wiped his forehead with his sleeve. ‘You’re going to miss “House of Gold” if you bug out.’

‘My favorite.’

‘I know.’

‘Rain check for the next gig,’ Brooke said. She didn’t think she could hear the song tonight anyway. It always made her cry.

When she turned away, Steve tugged on the sleeve of her blouse. He eyed the front row of women in the crowd, who were giggling to each other and sneaking glances at him. ‘Hey, is it just me, or are the gals looking at me funny?’

Brooke smiled. ‘It’s just you.’

She left the stage and pushed through the mass of bodies in the café. When she reached the door, she broke out into the cool air and climbed the steps to the street. She had a jacket over her arm, and she slipped into it. The lake wind cut through her tapered black slacks. She reached behind her head and bundled her long hair and expertly tied it into a ponytail.

On the other side of the park, near the ship canal, she saw the foggy blur of the lighthouse towers. She crossed Buchanan Street into the crowded parking lot, where the neon sign for Grandma’s Restaurant glowed behind the cars. Her Kia was parked in the first row.

She saw someone sitting on her bumper.

‘Dory,’ Brooke said. ‘What are you doing here?’

Dory Mateo scrambled to her feet. She was smoking a cigarette. Under the streetlight, her skin looked white enough to see veins. ‘Brooke. Hey, how are you?’

‘I’m okay. How about you?’

‘How do I look?’ Dory asked.

‘Not too good, sweetheart.’

Dory’s mouth carved out a faint smile. ‘Yeah.’

‘Can I do anything?’

‘No, I just need to talk.’

Brooke opened the car doors, and Dory crushed her cigarette on the wet ground. They got inside. Dory carried a smell of smoke with her, and Brooke cracked both windows to let in the lake air. Before the dome light went off, she saw the sunken half-moons under Dory’s eyes. Dory’s fingers shook.

‘I’m going to drive you to the hospital,’ Brooke said.

‘No! No doctors.’

‘Dory, you need help.’

‘I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.’

Brooke had seen Dory at the bottom of some black holes in her life, but she’d never seen her like this. The two of them went back for years. She’d met Dory in her freshman year at UMD, where they quickly became inseparable. They moved into a crappy studio apartment together, and they shared sob stories about money, men, sex and families. They vowed to help each other make it in the big bad world, but it didn’t work out that way. Dory lasted only one year at UMD before dropping out. She burnt through thousands of dollars on drugs. Watching Dory spiral out of control, Brooke became cynical about what it took to survive in the world.

‘How’s Cat?’ Brooke asked. ‘Is she okay?’

‘She’s with the cops. She’s safe for now.’

Dory fidgeted as they heard a burble of voices from the restaurant behind them. A gang of teenagers rode skateboards back and forth in front of Amazing Grace, and she squinted at them as the rolling wheels shunted and banged.

‘Across the street,’ Dory said. ‘Is that a man in the alley?’

Brooke studied the shadows. ‘I don’t see anyone. Dory, what’s wrong?’

‘Margot Huizenfelt disappeared,’ Dory said. ‘I think I’m next.’

‘Next? What are you talking about? What does Margot have to do with you?’

‘Margot was trying to find Cat when someone grabbed her. The police think there’s a connection.’

‘What kind of connection? What is this about?’

‘I don’t know, but two people are dead, and Cat barely got away alive. He’s going to come after me, too. I know he is. I’m being punished.’

‘Punished? Come on, that’s crazy. Why do you think that?’

Dory turned, and in the strange shadows of the car Brooke felt as if she could see through Dory’s skin to her skull. ‘I did a terrible thing back then,’ her friend said. ‘We both know that. It’s like a curse. I can’t escape it.’

Brooke felt a chill. Dory looked like the devil, staring at her. Her eyes were almost red. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘You know what I did. Remember?’

Brooke closed her eyes in frustration. ‘Dory, that was ten years ago. We were kids. We all made mistakes. If I could go back and start over, don’t you think I’d change my life, too?’

‘It’s not the same.’

‘Yes, it is. You can’t keep torturing yourself. Whatever’s going on now, it has nothing to do with you. Let it go. Please. Just get yourself some help, sweetheart, before it’s too late.’

‘I can’t keep the secret anymore. It’s like this weight on my chest.’ Dory leaned forward, clutching the dashboard. ‘There’s a man in that alley. I see him.’

‘It’s your imagination,’ Brooke told her. ‘There’s no one there.’

‘No, he’s watching us. I know it. He’s coming for me.’

‘Dory, listen to me. You’re in bad shape. We both know it. If you want to make up for what you did, turn your life around and get healthy. It won’t change anything to start living in the past. You and I are the only people who know what happened back then. Leave it at that.’

Dory shook her head. ‘Someone else knows.’

‘You said you never told anyone.’

‘I needed to get it off my chest. I thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.’

‘Dory, you didn’t tell Cat, did you?’ Brooke asked.

‘Cat? No, it would kill her to know. I never wanted her to find out.’

‘Then who?’

Dory pushed open the car door. Her eyes were fixated on the alley. She was ready to run.

‘Margot,’ Dory said. ‘I told Margot what I did. Don’t you see? It can’t be a coincidence. This is my fault. Right after I told her, she disappeared.’





29

‘Nice place,’ Serena said, as Stride turned on the light in his office. She eyed the half-dozen moving boxes scattered on the floor. ‘One of these days maybe you’ll unpack and stay a while.’

‘Someday.’ He reached for a folder on his desk and flinched in pain.

‘Does your shoulder hurt?’ she asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Next time, duck,’ she said, smiling.

‘Thanks.’

Serena picked up the photo of Cindy on his credenza. The picture was the only personal item she saw in his office. She studied Cindy’s face, noticing the flirty confidence in her eyes and smile. Stride’s first wife was cute, but not anyone’s idea of beautiful. She had straight dark hair, parted in the middle, and a sharp little V-nose. It was her attitude that made her attractive. Always teasing. Always full of life.

Serena had never met Cindy. She’d been dead for years when Serena first arrived in Duluth. Had they met, she thought that she would have liked Cindy, so it was strange how jealous she felt of her. She’d always imagined that she was competing with Cindy for Stride’s heart.

She noticed him watching her. He didn’t say anything.

‘I’m going to the ladies room,’ she told him.

‘Okay. I have what I need. We can go back to the Point.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You want to hang around before you head home? I could use a drink.’

‘Maybe I will.’

Serena went into the dark hallway of the police headquarters. She saw a sign for the restroom, and she went inside and stood in front of the wide mirror. Her face was dirty from the rain and road spray at the highway site so she ran hot water and washed her skin, removing her makeup at the same time. Her natural face stared back at her. She ran a long nail over the age lines that had crept beside her mouth.

As she stood by the mirror, the bathroom door opened. In the reflection, she saw Maggie Bei.

The small Chinese cop stopped in awkward surprise as she spotted Serena. She reached for the door to leave, but then she shrugged and let it swing shut behind her. She came up to the mirror, standing in front of the twin sink. She washed her hands without looking up at the glass.

‘Hi,’ Maggie said.

‘Hi,’ Serena replied.

Maggie turned off the water and flicked her hands into the bowl. She took a paper towel and dried them. ‘I figured you’d be coming to town. You working with Stride?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Good.’ Maggie worked her mouth as if she were chewing gum. She gestured with her thumb at the bathroom door. ‘So do I need my gun?’

‘If I were going to kill you, I’d use my bare hands,’ Serena said.

‘Nice. Okay.’

‘If you have things to do in here, don’t let me stop you.’

‘Actually, things just sort of squeezed shut on me. Weird.’

‘Yeah, weird,’ Serena said.

They stood next to each other in silence. One of them had to leave, but neither one did. Maggie played with her bangs. Serena bent forward toward the mirror and smoothed her eyebrows.

‘Black hair again, I see,’ Serena said.

‘Uh huh.’

‘I didn’t tell you, but the red was awful.’

‘Thanks.’

‘So you and Jonny went nowhere. Gee, that’s too bad.’

‘I guess sticking the pins in the Maggie doll worked.’

‘I guess.’

‘Do you want to slap me or something?’ Maggie asked. ‘Would that make you feel better?’

‘If it would, I’d have already done it.’

‘Right. Sure. Mind if I tell you something?’

‘Go ahead.’

‘F*ck off, Serena.’

Serena straightened up. ‘Well, that’s mature.’

‘Hey, if you want to torture me, go ahead. I don’t care. I already told you that I never meant for anything to happen with Stride, but it happened. I can’t change that. I get it that you can forgive him, not me. I don’t expect us to be best friends again.’

‘Good.’

‘Just don’t expect me to walk away. I’m his friend. I’m his partner. I’ve known him longer than you have. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Yeah, I always know where I can find you, Maggie. Right next to Jonny.’

‘If you think I’d let anything happen between us again, you’re crazy.’

‘Said the spider to the fly.’

‘I mean it.’

‘I know you do, and if you think I believe you, you’re crazy.’

Maggie grabbed the door and opened it halfway. ‘This is getting us nowhere. You know what’s too bad? I still like you, Serena. I hope someday we’ll be able to get past this.’

Serena said nothing.

‘One thing,’ Maggie went on. ‘If you’re working with Stride, do me a favor. Watch his back.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘I don’t trust Cat Mateo. She’s obsessed with knives, and I think she’s becoming obsessed with Stride. I don’t like it.’

‘Jonny can take care of himself.’

‘Yeah? For all we know, Cat murdered Vincent Roslak. Hell, maybe Margot figured it out and Cat killed her, too. Did you think about that?’

‘Come on. This girl’s not a serial killer.’

‘I forgot, you’re biased, too,’ Maggie said. ‘Stride feels guilty because of Michaela. You feel guilty because of your childhood. What a cute little co-dependent trio you guys make.’

‘I’ve never worn rose-colored glasses about anyone. Except maybe you.’

‘Fair enough. I deserve that, but I’m not kidding around. I got a call from a friend of mine on the Minneapolis police. Ken McCarty. He did some digging on the Roslak case and he found something about Cat in Roslak’s files. A video. He says it’s pretty scary stuff.’

‘Ken McCarty,’ Serena said. ‘Is he the latest friend you’re sleeping with?’

‘Where the hell did you hear that?’ Maggie demanded. ‘Did Stride tell you?’

‘Guppo knows. You can’t keep things from Guppo.’

‘Fine. I’m sleeping with Ken. So what?’

‘Well, you can see why I don’t exactly swoon when you cross your heart and swear that you and Jonny are just friends. You seem to make a habit of f*cking your friends.’

Maggie’s fists clenched. ‘All I’m saying is, you need to be careful about Cat.’

‘Understood. Is that all you want to say?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Maggie dug in her pocket and pulled out a ring of keys. She flipped the keys until she found the one she wanted, and then she pried it off the chain. She held it in front of Serena’s face. ‘See this? It’s Stride’s key. I’ve had it for years. Back when Cindy was alive? I had the key. When you two were shacking up? I had the key.’

Maggie slapped the key on the bathroom sink in front of Serena.

‘Now I don’t have it anymore.’

*

Stride and Serena sat on the screened porch at the back of his cottage, with their feet propped on an old plastic cooler. He had a bottle of Miller Lite in his hand. Serena, who didn’t drink, sipped mineral water. He felt as if time had gone backwards; this was like old times. It was dark and cold, and the lake growled beyond the dunes. In the main part of the house, they heard the buzz of the television. Cat had fallen asleep on the leather sofa in the living room, and they’d left her there.

‘Do you think Maggie could be right?’ Serena asked, after a long stretch of silence filled with nothing but the rush of the waves.

‘About Cat? No, I don’t.’

‘She says Ken McCarty found a video of Cat and Roslak. It’s not good.’

‘I wouldn’t trust anything involving Roslak.’

He shook his head to stay awake. He found his eyes drifting shut.

‘What about the murders? There’s still no sign of the stolen Charger?’ Serena asked.

‘None.’

‘Maybe the killer knows there’s evidence inside. Blood, DNA.’

‘Or maybe he knows that if we tie the car to Kim’s death, Cat’s off the hook.’

He heard Serena sit up straighter in the darkness. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, why stab Kim Dehne with a knife? There are cleaner, faster, easier ways to kill someone.’

‘Roslak was killed the same way. This guy could be a psychopath. What’s your point?’

‘My point is, what if Cat hadn’t gotten away?’

‘He’d have stabbed her, too.’

‘I wonder.’

‘You don’t think so?’

‘I think we never would have seen Cat again,’ Stride said. ‘If we found Kim Dehne stabbed to death, and Cat was nowhere to be found, what would we be thinking right now?’

‘We’d be thinking Cat killed her,’ Serena concluded.

‘Exactly. Maybe Roslak and Margot, too.’

‘But why try to frame Cat? Why not just kill her? He’s been after her for weeks. What’s changed?’

‘Cat came to me,’ Stride said. ‘I started listening to her.’

Serena took another drink of mineral water, and the plastic bottle crackled. ‘There’s something I don’t understand, Jonny. Bill Green said Margot was asking about Cat’s parents. Why? What was she looking for?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Was there anything unusual about their deaths?’

‘No, it was a straightforward murder-suicide.’

‘So what did Margot want?’

‘Maybe she wanted to get inside Cat’s head.’

Serena was quiet. ‘You know, you never told me the truth about you and Michaela,’ she said finally. ‘I know she was important to you.’

She’d opened the door for him, and all he had to do was walk through it. All he had to do was open up. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to do what she’d done for him and lay himself bare. He wanted to let Michaela into his soul again and share her with Serena, but instead he sat frozen. He didn’t say a word, which was the worst thing he could do.

Next to him, Serena stood up, and her demeanor was suddenly like a cool breeze blowing on the porch. He knew she was angry at his silence. ‘I have to go.’

‘It’s too late to drive back to Grand Rapids. Use one of the other bedrooms.’

‘I don’t mind the drive. Good night, Jonny.’

‘Serena, wait.’

He stood up and took hold of her shoulders and turned her around. He remembered the feel of her body. He could barely see the contours of her face, but he’d memorized them years ago. She was close, but she was distant from him. He’d pushed her away again.

‘There are things you don’t know,’ he said. ‘I have secrets I’ve never told anyone.’

‘I know more than you think. You feel guilty. You promised to protect Michaela, and you failed. She was probably half in love with you. Maybe more than half. It’s okay. I just wish you’d told me.’

‘It’s not just that. There’s something else.’

‘What is it?’

She waited for him, and he thought: Tell her. He could hear Cindy’s voice in his head, and she said the same thing. Tell her. It was the right time to free himself. It was the right time to admit it. Instead, like a stranger, he said nothing at all.

The moment slipped away from them.