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.“Blair Rowe was on CNN half an hour ago speculating about a link between the murder here and Callie’s disappearance.”Serena shrugged.“Blair Rowe knows everyone in the Grand Rapids police.Someone leaked.”“What do you think? Is there a link between the two cases?”“I think Marcus is lying about why he was here,” Serena said.“I’d like to know what he was really looking for in those files.”“Yeah.”“What does Guppo say about the crime scene?” Serena asked.“Is it the farmlands killer?”“The MO is similar,” Maggie said.“The right locale, the missing body.I’m not sure about the shotgun, though.This guy likes to use his hands.”“Maybe Regan surprised him, and he grabbed the gun.”“Maybe, but that’s not how it looks.Guppo thinks he had the gun the whole time.There was no struggle.That’s not how this guy operates.”“Except there’s the message on the wall,” Serena said.Maggie nodded.“Yeah.The message feels authentic.This guy is playing with Kasey.But I still don’t buy the coincidence that he went after Regan Conrad just for the hell of it.There’s a connection to Callie in all of this.”“Have you told Kasey about the message on the wall?”“Not yet.I asked her to come over here.She’s not far away.”“I talked to Stride,” Serena said.“He’s going to talk to Micki Vega.She’s the one link we know about between Marcus and Regan.”“Yeah, I talked to him, too.”Serena shook her head and laughed bitterly.“Of course you did.What was I thinking?”“Look, Serena,” Maggie said.Serena held up a hand, stopping her.“I don’t think we should do this now.Do you? We’re professionals.That’s all.”Maggie heard the message loud and clear.We’re professionals.Not friends.Not anymore.“I know it doesn’t mean shit, but I’m sorry,” she said.Serena stripped off her sunglasses in a fierce gesture.Her eyes were red and angry.“You want to talk about this now? Fine.Don’t bullshit me or give me fake stories about being sorry.This was no accident.You knew that Jonny and I were having problems, because I was stupid enough to tell you.You sabotaged our relationship to get what you’ve always wanted.Well, bravo.I never thought you were that ruthless.I was naive enough to think you were my friend.So now I pay the price for trusting you.”Her words hit Maggie like a frigid breeze stinging her face.In the aftermath, she heard Serena breathing loudly.“You can believe it or not, but it was not like that,” Maggie told her softly.“Stride had an attack.I found him like that.Serena, he needed someone.It just happened.”Serena rolled her eyes.“It just happened? Is that the best you can do? Sure, you didn’t plan anything.Oh, and by the way, nice hair, Maggie.”She knew her excuse was lame.“I just wanted something different.”“Well, you got it.Now get the fuck out of my car.”Maggie climbed out and closed the passenger door behind her.She leaned back in the window.“I never meant to come between the two of you,” she said.“I still don’t.I’m out.It was one time.It was an accident.He loves you, and I’m not going to mess that up.”Serena put on her sunglasses again.“Too late.”Maggie opened her mouth to say something more, but she had nothing to say.She took a step backward and then walked away in quick, angry steps toward Regan’s house.She could see strands of her red hair dangling in front of her eyes, and suddenly she hated herself and her damn strawberry hair and what she had done to Stride.Serena was right.She could tell herself that she had never meant for anything to happen, that she had never meant to stumble into the middle of their relationship, but on some level, she knew she was lying.Consciously or not, she had known all along what she was doing.She had gone into Stride’s house with her eyes wide open.37It was already night by the time Stride arrived at the base of the sloping hillside of the Sago Cemetery.He got out of his truck and felt the craving for a cigarette.There was something about cold, sweet air that made him want to smoke.He leaned against his truck and studied the tall pine trees standing guard around the perimeter of the graveyard, protecting the dead.As the wind blew, they shrugged their tufted black shoulders at him.He hiked up the slope through the thin coating of snow, navigating around the dark outlines of the marble stones.The metal flagpole banged incessantly, like a child demanding attention.At the top of the hill, he crept along the ragged edge of the woods, looking for the path that led to the trailer where Micki Vega lived.When he found it, he plunged into darkness between the columns of tree trunks.He took careful steps, avoiding noise, as if he were intruding on something sacred.He remembered what Micki had told him: This was a place where people buried things they didn’t want found.Ahead of him, fifty yards away, he saw the squares of light from a mobile home in the clearing.It was an isolated place to live, hidden from view.As he got closer, he heard the canned noise of a television, sounding odd and artificial in the forest.When he knocked, he heard a female voice speaking loud, rapid Spanish, and then the television went silent.Micki Vega opened the door.She scowled when she saw him.“You again.What do you want?”“Can I come in?”“What if I say no? You going to bust down my door?”“No.”Micki shrugged.“Yeah, what do I care, come in.See how I’m taking bread out of the mouths of American workers.”He climbed three steps into the trailer, which sagged under his weight.It felt claustrophobic with its low metal ceiling and narrow walls.The furniture smelled musty, like a wet dog, and the tiny space was messy, with magazines on the floor and dead plants on the window ledges and empty beer cans stacked on card tables.The room was uncomfortably warm, and Stride began to sweat
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