“You should have talked to the police.”

“And say what?” Tish demanded. “For God’s sake, I was eighteen. I was scared out of my mind. I thought whoever killed her might think I could identify him. I thought people would blame me. To be gay back then meant you were a deviant, a child molester. I had already lost Laura, and I couldn’t bring her back. I didn’t know who did this. I didn’t have any information that would help the police. I just wanted to escape.”

“Did you touch the bat?” Maggie asked. “Will we find your fingerprints on it?”

Tish’s eyes flashed with anger. “You see? Even now, you’re wondering if I did it.”

“You were the last person to see her alive,” Stride told her.

“I never touched the bat,” Tish said. “I don’t care what you think of me now, but I’m telling you the truth. Finn confessed. He must have followed Laura that night and seen us making love. He must have been crazy with jealousy. So when I went into the lake, he lost control. For all I know, he was stoned and had no idea what he was doing.”

“I’d like to tell you that this changes things, but it doesn’t,” Stride said. “Maybe you can put this in a book, but Finn is never going to see the inside of a courtroom.”

“Is this because I lied?” Tish asked.

Stride nodded. “I happen to believe you, but a jury could easily conclude that you and Laura had a fight. That Laura met you to say good-bye and you couldn’t deal with it. That’s what a defense attorney will say. Or maybe Peter woke up, took the bat, and followed the trail. He was stalking Laura, we know that. He had the bat all these years. Who knows what he was capable of? There’s also Dada. He fled the scene. His prints are on the murder weapon. Don’t you see? We may know what happened, but we’ll never prove what happened. You’re going to have to be satisfied with that.”

Tish stood up. She put the half-finished bottle of water on Stride’s desk and smoothed her clothes. Stiffly, she extended a hand for him to shake. Her grip was weak and unconvincing. “I’m sorry I lied to you,” she said.

She slipped out of the office and closed the door behind her.

Maggie looked at Stride. “What do you think?”

Stride frowned. “She’s still lying about something.”

38
___________

Clark Biggs sat in a bar on the main street in Gary, with his big fingers laced around a bottle of beer. Donna nursed a Diet Coke beside him, but they had hardly talked. When she put her hand tentatively on his shoulder, he couldn’t even turn his head to look at her. She laid her head against his arm, and he knew she was crying, but he didn’t feel anything. He couldn’t comfort her when he was numb all over. He wanted to cry, and he couldn’t. He wanted to get angry, and he couldn’t. It was like being in a dream where you wanted to run and your legs wouldn’t go.