Clark’s small house was west of the highway and almost directly across the street from the town’s elementary school. The development butted up against a densely wooded area of parkland. Maggie drove past the development in order to scout the crime scene and found herself in a trailer park on the opposite side of the woods. The forest encroached on the mobile home community from all sides, and it wouldn’t be hard to park a car unnoticed and then duck into the trees and disappear.

She did a U-turn and returned to the development where Clark Biggs lived. The streets were wide, and the lots were large and flat, occupied by one- and two-story matchbox houses with detached garages. Tall, bushy oaks offered plenty of shade. It was the kind of neighborhood where cars and trucks didn’t get traded in; they simply sat on the lawn, rusting. Many of the houses had fenced yards to keep out the deer, but not the Biggs house, which was open and all on one level. It was painted white, with a block of five concrete steps leading up to the front door. The roof was missing a few of its red shingles. The large yard featured soaring pine trees and a weeping willow, and directly behind it, the yard spilled into the forest. The grass was long.

For a peeping tom, it was a prime choice. A quiet area. First-floor windows. An easy sprint back to the woods. This was a neighborhood where the biggest worry was Dad losing his foundry job or brother Jim getting cut in a bar fight after midnight. No one thought about pulling the shades and curtains. There was no one around to watch.

Maggie parked on the street, and Guppo met her outside. He was in his fifties and not much taller than Maggie, but the stretch dress pants needed to accommodate his girth could have doubled as a parachute. A few strands of greased black hair labored to stretch across his skull.

Guppo filled her in quickly.

“What about these footprints that Biggs found?” Maggie asked.

“There’s not much we can do with them,” Guppo said. “The rain mushed the prints by the time we got here.”

“Did the peeper head right into the woods?”

Guppo nodded. “We followed the trail to the trees, and we lost it there.”

“There’s a trailer park on the other side of the woods,” Maggie said. “We need to talk to the people there. Kids, too.”

“You don’t want me to wake people up over a peeping tom, do you?”

“No, tomorrow is soon enough. I want to know if anyone saw strangers, cars, anything unusual. Find out how many people knew this girl, too. I want to know how this guy finds them. She’s another blonde, isn’t she?”

“Yes.”

“Pretty?”

“Well, yeah, but not in an adult way. She’s like a child.”

“Okay.”

Maggie hiked up the steps. Her big heels made a clip-clop noise. The screen door was unlocked, and she rapped on it with her knuckles and let herself inside. The house smelled like McDonald’s food. The carpet in the living room was worn and gray. The furnishings showed their age with nicks and scratches.