"Josh Dillon, sir. Junior. Communications major. I sit kind of in the back—"
"That's great, Mr. Dillon. I'll remember. Hell, I'll give you extra credit for this if you'd like."
"Oh, no. That's not necessary. Not really anyway. I just wanted to—"
"Thanks for coming by. Next week on the papers, okay?"
As politely as he could, Ludwig shoved the student out of the office and closed the door behind him.
*
The minutes to the top of the hour ticked away like a slow death. Ludwig stared at the radio, silently urging the broadcast onward, cursing the classical music that began to sound like a fork scraped across a blackboard.
He looked around for something to distract his attention from the minutes crawling by, but finding nothing, sat back in his chair and waited. Finally, the news came on, and he leaned forward and turned the volume up as high as it would go.
This is it, he thought.
The broadcaster started speaking.
"New Cambridge Police and officers from several jurisdictions, acting on a tip today, executed a search warrant at a private residence in rural Union Township. The authorities believed that evidence relating to the Jacqueline Foley disappearance might be found in the home. But after an extensive search of the grounds and questioning of the home's residents, the police determined that no evidence relating to the investigation into the missing Fields' student was found there. While disappointed at the dead end, Captain Dan Berding expressed optimism that the case would be resolved and soon.
"And sources inside the police department are reporting a vehicle that may belong to a missing New Cambridge police officer has been found on a rural road..."
"No, no," Ludwig said. "No. Didn't you find the grave? Didn't you stupid, fucking idiots find the grave in the woods?"
He yanked the plug from the wall and picked up the radio. He was about to throw it against the wall when he regained control of himself.
"Gah!"
He put the radio back down and took several deep breaths. He remembered his own father's temper, and the way the old man went face down into his mashed potatoes one night, dead of a heart attack at age fifty. Ludwig was a scholar, an educated man. He could solve his problems in a better way.
He straightened his tie and grabbed his coat. He had to go talk to that captain again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
You have to go. It has to be you.
Diana drove home, exhausted. She hadn't slept.
Her mom's words rang in her ears. The words of a sick, crazy woman, living in an institution. Diana hadn't listened to her mother in years, hadn't given her thoughts or words credence since childhood.
So why start to listen now, as her mother slipped deeper into the darkness of Alzheimer's?
Simple. At last, Diana believed her mother's words were true.
*
Back in her apartment, Diana found the phone book and looked up the address of the Donahue house. She didn't expect it to be listed, and if it wasn't listed, she didn't know how she'd find it. But the number was there in the directory. A Roger Donahue in Union Township. She committed the address to memory and decided that the fates must be on her side.
Or were they working against her, pushing her toward some twisted goal, one with an unpleasant end for Diana? She told herself she didn't care. Better to have an end to all of it, pleasant or not. In fact, the notion that it might be pleasant seemed laughable. How could anyone imagine anything good coming of this trip to the woods?
With that in mind, Diana went to her closet and brought down a shoebox. When she left the force, she purchased her service weapon, a Glock 22. She hadn't taken it out of the box since. No time like the present, she thought, and slipped it and its holster onto her belt. She also brought out a canister of pepper spray for good measure, and even as she did, she wondered what good these weapons would be against the visions that were haunting her. If it were that simple, she would have taken the box down several months ago. But where would she have aimed it? At her own head? Into her own mind?
Diana pushed the disturbing thought out and considered the possibilities before her. She could go to the Donahue property now, in the wake of the police search, and possibly encounter the agitated and harassed landowner, someone who might be a killer, or short of that, someone who might be pissed off enough at the invasion of their privacy to call the police on her, which would bring an end to any hope of finding anything on that land.
Or she could go later, when the sun was going down, making it easy to slip into the property undetected.
Diana shivered at the idea, and for a brief moment, considered letting it all go. But she couldn't. She knew she just couldn't, so she paced the floor, waiting for nightfall.
*