Stride shook his head. “Someone masturbated near Laura’s body. We still have the semen that was collected. If Finn was there, we’ll be able to prove it.”

“I’m not letting you take a DNA sample from him.”

“We don’t need one. Finn provided a large sample of his blood on the floor of the bathroom in the Detective Bureau.”

“You took his blood off the floor?” Rikke asked. “What kind of barbarian are you? A man is dying, and all you can think about is your investigation?”

“My concern is with the victims,” Stride said. “I’m going to test his DNA. We’re going to find out that Finn was at the murder scene that night.”

“I’ll talk to my lawyer. He’ll put a stop to this rape of Finn’s body. You’re disgusting, do you know that? You’re an animal. You don’t understand what Finn has been through in his life.”

Stride squatted in front of her. “Finn took the car that night, didn’t he? When he came home, he was covered in blood. I think you did exactly what you did a few days ago. You covered up for him. You protected him.”

“I think you should go,” Rikke announced. “I have nothing more to say.”

“Finn was in love with Laura. He was obsessed with her. That’s how this all started.”

“You don’t know anything,” Rikke told him. “You should just leave it alone. Believe me, Finn’s problems began long before Laura.”

Serena rang the doorbell and waited. The Honda Civic that Tish drove was parked in the driveway of the lakefront condominium. Masking tape surrounded the edge of the windshield where the glass had been replaced. Across the street, Serena saw a Duluth police officer watching her from an unmarked police vehicle. She waved. He knew her.

It was after ten o’clock, but there were lights on inside the apartment. When there was no answer, she rang the bell again. This time, she saw Tish through the window as she came to the door. She wore a men’s white shirt that draped to the middle of her thighs. Her legs were bare. Tish opened the door, and tobacco wafted from her breath and clothes into the hot night air. The smell of smoke was mixed with the tart aroma of gin. Tish leaned against the doorway and picked at strands of her blond hair.

“Serena Dial,” she said. “What can I do for you?”

“I was hoping we could talk.”

Tish gave a casual shrug of her shoulders. “Okay.”

She turned away and wandered toward the rear of her condo. Serena came inside, closing the door behind her. The condo was sparsely decorated, without artwork on the white walls or curtains on the windows. The cream carpet under her feet was deep and lush, but the rental furniture was utilitarian. Serena saw a glass dining room table that doubled as a desk, where Tish kept her laptop and research notes. The kitchen counter was clean except for an empty box from a Lean Cuisine TV dinner and two drained bottles of Schweppes tonic.