“I know this has been terrible for both of you,” Maggie said.

“Clark disappeared from the bar, Ms. Bei. He left, and he didn’t tell me where he was going. He was drinking heavily. I went to his house to find him, and I’ve been here for several hours now. I was hoping he’d come home, but he hasn’t. I’ve tried his cell phone, but he must have it turned off.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Maggie asked.

“Nothing. I went to the restroom, and when I came back, he was gone.”

“Have you called 911?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you first. I’m not sure what I should do.”

“I’ll put out an alert for Clark and his truck,” Maggie told her. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him.”

“I’m afraid of what he might do,” Donna added.

Maggie thought about Clark’s face when she had come upon him in the woods where Mary died. “Does Clark own a gun?” she asked softly.

“He owns hunting rifles, but they’re all still here at the house. I checked. He doesn’t own a handgun.”

“That’s good news,” Maggie told her. She waited a beat and then added, “I know that Clark has been depressed, but has he talked at all about harming himself? Are you afraid he might commit suicide?”

“No, that’s not it,” Donna said. “I’m not worried about Clark killing himself. I’m worried that he might kill someone else.”

“Someone else? Like who?”

“They talked about that man on the news tonight. The one you’ve been investigating. Clark knows his name now. He knows where he lives.”

“You mean Finn Mathisen?”

“Yes. I think Clark might try to do what you can’t. Get justice for Mary.”

Maggie swore under her breath. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

“Ms. Bei, you have to find him. You can’t let Clark do this.”

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t. I don’t care about this other man. He deserves whatever happens to him. But I don’t want Clark throwing away his life. He can’t. Not now.”

Maggie heard the pleading in Donna’s voice. “What are you saying?”

“Clark doesn’t know,” Donna told her. “He doesn’t know I’m pregnant.”

40
___________

Midnight in the rural neighborhoods of Superior was quiet. The media trucks that had surrounded Finn’s house for the ten o’clock news were gone. The house was dark and silent. Even so, Clark knew that Finn was hiding there, sitting in some room with the lights off. The silver RAV sat like a ghost truck in the driveway. He hoped that the man who had killed his daughter couldn’t sleep.

He thought about breaking in. Kick down the door or smash a window. He told himself that all he wanted to do was confront Finn and look for the guilt in his face, and tell him that he had robbed two lives when he set his sights on Mary. But that was a lie. Clark had darker things in his heart.

He squirmed in his seat because he needed to piss. He opened the door of his pickup and climbed down to the dirt. Overhead, there were no stars, only angry clouds growing blacker and more threatening as he stared at them. Wind drummed on his back. He stood between the steel rails of the tracks and unzipped and drained a clear stream of urine into the crushed rock. When he was done, he went back to the truck and reached across the seat to grab the baseball bat he had stolen. It was heavy and satisfying in his hand, like an instrument of justice.