"His alibi. The kid falling down the stairs. It checks?"
"The kid definitely fell down the stairs. We have no doubt about that. We saw the records. We interviewed the doctors."
"But?"
Dan didn't respond. He just kept his eyes on Diana, waiting for her to make the connection.
"It wasn't an accident? Is that what you're saying?"
"His daughter died as a teenager. Natural causes it looked like. But the medical examiner found some suspicious bruises on the girl, so they investigated. Bolton pitched a fit, threatened to sue. He said his girl led a vigorous life and was involved in a lot of sports. The medical examiner eventually backed off and closed the case, claiming that there was no evidence of abuse. Draw your own conclusions."
"That doesn't make any sense."
"What doesn't?"
"You know Bolton was at the hospital that night, the night Margie Todd disappeared?"
"Yes."
"So maybe he shoved his kid down the stairs to create an alibi."
"You need to go home."
"What?"
"You need to go home," he said. "You can't be around here, and you can't get yourself churned up in this investigation anymore." Dan took a deep breath and appeared to be thinking about the consequences of what he would say next. "We're going searching today, out there where the Foley girl disappeared. The State Police are pitching in. Theoretically, we're trying to find McMichael, but we hope we can turn something up about her, too. We're going to hit the woods and the back roads, knock on doors and talk to people."
"Do you know more than you're telling me?"
"No. And even if I did, I couldn't share it with you. If I learn anything, I'll call you."
Diana knew she was getting a professional rather than a personal brush-off. Something went together in her head, puzzle pieces locking into place. She snapped her fingers.
"Bolton didn't do it. He had someone else do it, right? That's why he knew he needed cover the night Margie Todd disappeared. He knew she was going to disappear, and he wanted to make certain he couldn't get caught. So he shoved his kid down the stairs at the right time and spent the evening in the emergency room."
"I can't talk about this with you, Diana. It's official business."
"Let me tag along, while you search."
"No." His voice didn't sound harsh, but she knew he meant it. "You can't go if you're no longer on the force. I said I'd call you when I knew something, and I will." He looked her up and down. "You should go home and sleep. You look worn out."
"I was going to say the same to you. You'll call right away?"
Dan rolled his eyes. "Good-bye, Diana." And he walked inside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Nate Ludwig sometimes felt as though his life were dedicated to patient waiting. As a scholar, his work progressed with the pace of a glacier. Information appeared in dribbles and leaks, and it often took years or decades for new ideas to gain a foothold in the academic community. In his darker moments, he saw his own life, his personal life, in the same light. He imagined that other people—his peers, his colleagues—were rushing headlong through their days, and their lives were marked by a series of highlights that the world recognized and applauded. Successful marriages, the births of children and grandchildren, publications, awards, retirement homes. So many people had it all. His own life, by comparison, felt like a series of stops and starts, missteps and wrong turns, both professional and personal. It seemed as though he'd been waiting for his life to begin since he drew his first breath.