The sun grew brighter and hotter. The wind picked up. The edges of the woman's body became indistinct and blurry, as though she were fading away before Diana's eyes. But she wasn't disappearing, Diana realized. She was decaying. Her skin shriveled, pulling in tighter against the skull. Her eyes disappeared and shrunk back into her head. Her hair coa.r.s.ened and turned brittle, some of it snapping off and flying away in the increasing wind. Diana watched as maggots squirmed and crawled just beneath the surface of the woman's skin, and then her horror increased as the maggots slipped and slithered through her nostrils and into her now vacant eye sockets. Diana couldn't look away. It was as though her neck were locked into place, forcing her to witness the spectacle of her sister's decaying and disintegrating body.

Like watching a time-lapse movie, it took a matter of seconds for the woman to be stripped of her flesh and clothes and be reduced to a crumbling pile of bones. Soon the bones became dust, scattering in the wind, but even then Diana heard the voice of her sister, only now it delivered a different message.

"You let me down," it said. "You should have kept coming for me."

Diana knew she was spending too much time alone, so despite her frayed nerves and difficulty sleeping-or, more accurately, because of them-she vowed to get out of the house more and mingle with the world. She hoped that doing so would make a change in her life, the kind of change she had been waiting years for. Like a fever breaking or the tide receding, she wished for something new to come along and replace what already existed.

She tried her best to turn the page.

She found a job as a hostess at a restaurant on the town square. It was an Italian place that catered to lawyers and business people during the day, then fed the well-to-do of New Cambridge at night, especially on weekends as they all went out to attend movies or concerts or plays. It didn't pay enough, but it was mindless, and she could stand at the door and offer people some version of a fake smile and take them to a table and hand them a menu and then not worry about anything else that happened to them. Let it be somebody else's problem. The managers normally hired college students, so when Diana was able to show up for all of her shifts and perform competently, they treated her as though she were the second coming of Einstein. She knew someday she needed to find another job, one that would lead to a career, but this one gave her some breathing room for the time being.

She still checked in on the Foley case, but news came out in a trickle that eventually slowed to nothing. And when she noticed the news reports rarely mentioning her, as though she had never existed at all, some part of her wanted to call the Foley family and tell them that it would get better someday, that their pain would ease and the disappearance of their daughter would begin to make some kind of sense. But she knew if she made such a call and said such words, she'd be lying. What she really needed to tell them was if they thought the first few weeks were difficult, wait until they experienced the first few months and then the first few years. If they thought the first days were dark, then they hadn't seen anything yet.

It made sense for Diana not to be a cop anymore. She wouldn't trust herself to keep her mouth shut.

So she lived her life independent of others, never mind that she found herself, at least once a week, driving slowly past the sorority house where Jacqueline Foley once lived. On the front porch, her sorority sisters kept a candle burning to light Jackie's way home, and they had vowed to keep it burning, year in and year out, regardless of the weather or if school were in session or not, until they had an answer about their sister and friend. Diana wanted to knock on the door and tell them that one candle wouldn't cut it in a world as dark as ours, and sometimes she wanted to just stop her car, walk up to the porch and blow the thing out herself. Instead, she found herself choking up a little whenever she drove by and wishing she had the staying power and determination of a bunch of college girls who she wished she could dismiss contemptuously. She couldn't dismiss them, so she kept driving by. And she knew deep down that if she ever went by there and saw that the candle was out, she'd hop out of the car and light it herself, and probably sit there all night just to protect it.

Unlike Jackie Foley and her sorority sisters, Diana didn't have anyone watching out for her. She hadn't visited her mother since the hospital had told her to keep her distance. She hadn't spoken to Kay Todd or lifted a finger on behalf of her missing daughter. Jason had called a few times, trying to work his way back into her life, but Diana simply avoided his calls, giving him the internationally recognized signs of a blow off. He eventually took the hint and stopped calling, giving Diana exactly what she had hoped for-a life lived only for herself and by herself, free of bothersome entanglements with others.

So why, she wondered, if I finally have what I want, do I still feel so unhappy?

Diana was home, a night off work, when someone knocked on her door. The sound sent a small twist of fear through her midsection. She worried that it was another message, another delivery from whoever had been sending the notes relating to the Margie Todd case. She a.s.sumed Kay was behind them, but how could she know? It was a sign of how isolated she had become that she was willing to set aside her fear and look through the peephole, not knowing whether the person on the other side meant her good or ill. And after seeing who it was, she still couldn't decide if she should open the door. After a moment's pause and another knock, she undid the locks and pulled the door open.

"Dan?"

"Hi, Diana."

He looked nervous and out of place on her landing, as though he feared someone might see him, and Diana supposed that was a legitimate concern for a married man who for some reason had shown up at his ex-mistress's apartment.

"What's going on?" she said.

"I was hoping I could come in for a minute."

Diana studied his face and noticed the tiredness in his eyes, the gravity that seemed to be weighing down the skin under his jaw line.

"What's wrong?" she said. "Did something happen?"

He didn't answer but moved past her into the apartment. He still wore his uniform, and once inside, stood awkwardly in the center of the room as though waiting for an invitation.

"I'd offer you something, but I don't want to mess around with that bulls.h.i.t. Just tell me what's going on? Did you find the Foley girl?"

Dan looked surprised to hear Diana mention that case. "No, not that. Have you seen or heard from Jason today?"

"No. Why?"

"He was supposed to work a twelve to eight shift, and he didn't show. No answer on the phone, no sign of him at his place. I thought since you two have been spending time together..." He swallowed, and Diana watched his Adam's apple bob. He was jealous, and somehow that display of weakness softened Diana toward him.

"I haven't seen him in a few weeks," she said.

"Oh."

"I've been lying low."

Dan nodded. "It doesn't make sense for him to blow off a shift. Do you have any guesses? Everybody's out looking for him, but we're trying to keep it off the radio for now in case it's something personal. No sense stirring up the whole pot if he's just blowing off steam."

"This is Jason McMichael you're talking about," she said. "He doesn't miss work."

"I know. I'm sort of hoping he's doing something totally out of character, like going on a three-day bender, and I know that's wishful thinking. He'd never do anything like that. But the alternative, it scares me. I don't want to think something more is wrong."

Diana sat on the couch, and she pointed at the armchair across the room. Dan took it, using the armrests to ease himself down. The impact of Dan's words settled over Diana. She felt cold and wrapped her arms tighter around herself, as though huddling against a great chill. She knew something was wrong with Jason if he missed work. He would never. Never. And the last time she had seen him, he came to her, looking for help or advice. She could sit there and imagine every forking path, every possible outcome if she had taken the time to talk him down or talk him out of it. Or she could have gone with him, and then...

"He was talking about something the last time I saw him," Diana said. "That night he came by your house."

"The Foley girl," Dan said. "Right?"

Diana nodded. The chill had seeped into her bones, like she'd spent the day in a damp rain.

"How he thought we were looking in the wrong place." Dan shook his head. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit. Do you think he went off on some wild goose chase of his own, freelancing like he's Sam Spade or something?"

"He had a good point. The bike could have been a plant."

"Of course the thing could have been a plant. Does he think I'm f.u.c.king stupid?" Dan's voice had raised, and Diana had never heard him drop an f-bomb before. "I'm sorry. But I know that, and you know that. But you guys never understand what it's like to be the front man for all of this stuff. I have to deal with the Foley girl's parents. And I'm the one who gets skewered in the papers if we screw up. What if we ignore the bike, and it turns out the girl or her killer are out that way somewhere? What happens then?"

"They roast you."

"On a spit. I've got no choice but to follow that, but McMichael has to get on his white horse and gallop around like he's Lancelot or something. You know there are jurisdictional matters to consider here. That's Union Township out there. We're cooperating for now, since we don't really know where the crime occurred, but we can't just go stepping on toes. They could make it tough on us. The county boys, too."

"You said the Foley girl's killer. Killer." The word felt over-inflated and awkward coming out of her mouth, as though giving voice to it might make it true. "Is that what you think?"

"What do you think? She's been gone nearly a month. You think he took her to Club Med? We've also been looking west of town. I only have so many men at my disposal, and the feds aren't any d.a.m.n help. We've been doing both, looking everywhere. Just not fast enough to please everybody, I guess. Right?"

"I'm sorry, Dan. I know you're in a tough spot."

He looked over, surprised. "You do? I figured you'd be the first one in line with the skewer. You're still p.i.s.sed about a case I responded to when I was a rookie."

"I know it's not easy."

"You're right, it's not. It wasn't then, and it isn't now."

"Then?"

"That Todd girl," he said.

"What about her? Are you saying you still think about her?"

He looked at Diana with something close to disgust. "Why would that surprise you?" he said, his voice flat. "Two of these girls disappear, and then one of my men. What the h.e.l.l's going on around here? And it's all happening on my watch. I think about Jason...he was at my house that night, that night you were there. Who knows what he thought, but maybe that sent him off on this chase, trying to do something to make everything right."

"You can't blame yourself for that. If anyone's to blame, it's me."

"No, it's me. I'm the guy at the top." He pushed himself out of the chair. "If you don't know anything else, I guess I don't need to be here flapping my gums. We'll go public tomorrow if he doesn't turn up. Just what I need right now, another media s.h.i.tstorm."

"It might get people thinking about the Foley girl again," Diana said.

"That's one way to look at it." He rubbed his mustache. "Did Jason tell you where he wanted to look?"

"He said out in the area where the girl liked to ride her bike. County Road 600, I guess."

"That narrows it down. That road runs from one end of the county to the next."

"But the Foley girl didn't ride the whole thing." She tapped her fingers on the armrest. "Anybody out there who might be a suspect?"

Dan shrugged. "Pig farmers and rednecks. Anyone of them could be a suspect. We can't just run them all in." He made it all the way to the door before he stopped. He had his hand on the k.n.o.b, but let it fall back to his side.

"What is it?"

He spoke without turning around. "Are you okay? I mean, with all of this, with Jason being missing and all. I know you were...spending time together. Are you okay?"

Diana wanted to ask for help, but knew she was no longer in a position to do so. Not from Dan anyway.

"I'll do my best," she said.

"Should you call someone? A friend or something."

"Maybe I should buy a dog."

"You know I can't really be here."

"I know."

He reached for the door again and pulled it open. He took two steps outside then turned around and came back in. He pulled the door closed but not all the way shut. He looked like he wanted to say something else.

"What?" she said.

"You mentioned that newspaper article about the Todd girl. And how I said back then that it was a kidnapping. Remember? It was a kidnapping, Diana, as sure as I'm standing here. When we pursued that angle, we were told to drop it. By higher-ups in the department, people who were probably being told to do so by others. I won't say their names, and it doesn't matter anyway since they're all probably dead. But what I said back then is what I really thought and still do. That Todd woman is right, even if she is a loon. Somebody took her daughter. Somebody who lived right around here."

He left without saying anything else.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE.

If Diana were normal, if she were like everyone else on the planet Earth, Dan's parting words at her apartment door would have brought unbridled relief, an a.s.surance that the fight was worth carrying on. After all, she had wanted that more than anything else, a sense that she wasn't alone, chasing after a lost cause like a lonely crusader, and, of course, she had wanted Dan's validation and a.s.surance more than perhaps anyone else's.

But Dan's admission that there was more to the Margie Todd story than met the eye set Diana back on her heels. Faced with encouragement and a push to continue, she instead withdrew. The prospect of finding answers suddenly felt overwhelming, and when she contemplated the end of the road, the place where everything concerning Margie Todd was revealed to her and the world, a cold panic gripped her, as though knowing everything was somehow worse than knowing nothing at all.

Diana woke up cold.

It was dark, darker than usual. At night, her bedroom caught diffuse light from the street, and she preferred to sleep with her curtains open so she didn't find herself in total blackness. Lately, she had been sleeping with the lights on anyway, so to find herself in almost total darkness accelerated her heart rate.

Something wasn't right.

She couldn't understand why she felt so cold. It was as though she were exposed, wearing less clothing than normal. But that didn't make sense. The nights had turned chilly, and her landlord, in an unusual fit of generosity, had turned the boiler on in the building, which meant that the nights were sweltering and Diana could sleep with just a sheet and a light blanket covering her.

Had the boiler broken? Had the bedclothes fallen off to the side?

Consciousness coalesced slowly. Like swirling particles in s.p.a.ce that took eons to gather into moons and planets, her brain took its time sifting through the scattered fragments of sensation that trickled in. She calculated the cold, the dark, and then she moved on to the rest.

She wasn't in bed. That quickly became apparent.

She was standing up, and her feet were cold and bare, touching not carpet or hardwood but something less forgiving. Concrete?

She started to understand. The dislocation, the removal from familiar surroundings. She had wandered somewhere. A vision had overtaken her, and she had walked out of the apartment.

Am I in the bas.e.m.e.nt? she wondered, and even hoped for something as familiar as that. If she were in the bas.e.m.e.nt, it wouldn't be so bad. She could just climb the stairs back to her apartment, and no one would know the difference. Safe enough and reasonable to outside eyes. She could have business in the laundry room, even in the middle of the night.

But she felt pebbles and gravel jabbing into the soft soles of her feet. The ground was rough, like a street or a parking lot. Her panic accelerated. She was outside the building, and she didn't know where.

Instinctively, she looked at her hands. They were filthy. Not with dirt or mud, but with grime. Grease and foodstuffs. Sticky juices stained her skin, and a piece of lettuce clung to her forearm. She wiped it away and looked around. Brick walls and garbage cans. She was in an alley behind a restaurant, which meant she was more than likely near the square, a couple of blocks from her apartment.

She looked down. Her legs and feet were bare, her skin full of goose b.u.mps. She wore only a long T-shirt and underwear.

"Oh, G.o.d," she said. "s.h.i.t."

She had had a vision and wandered for blocks, then made matters worse by digging in the trash. She had to slip home. She had no idea what time it was, but she hoped it was late enough that the streets were dark and empty.

Her hopes were almost immediately dashed.

Voices reached her from the end of the alley.

"Jesus."

"Look at her."

"She's f.u.c.ked up. G.o.dd.a.m.n."

Diana looked in the direction of the voices. The light from the street silhouetted the figures, rendering them indistinct and faceless outlines, but she could guess. College kids. Guys back from a night of drinking. And here she was, the crazy lady digging in the garbage, wearing close to nothing.