The pages of the visitor’s log were divided into columns. I worked from the back of the most recent book, looking for Mary’s name under Who Are You Here to See?

For two years’ worth of entries, there was nothing at all. It was obvious how alone Mary Constantine had been in this place.

Then, suddenly, a rash of names cropped up on the log. Here was the flurry of interest that Dr. Shapiro mentioned. It lasted over the course of about a month and a half.

I slowed down and perused the visitors’ names. Most were unfamiliar to me.

One of them, I recognized.

Chapter 115

Chapter 115

MY CELL PHONE and Vermont seemed to hate each other. Apparently, this was the Land of No Signal.

I found a pay phone instead, called Agent Page in Los Angeles, and had him patch in LAPD. A minute later we had Maddux Fielding’s office on the line, but no Fielding. What a surprise.

“You know what?” I said to the nameless lieutenant on the line. “Screw it. Transfer us over to Detective Jeanne Galletta.”

“What’s going on?” Page asked me again, while we were on hold with LAPD.

Then I heard another voice on the line. “Jeanne Galletta. Is this Alex?”

“Jeanne, it’s Alex all right. Karl Page from the L.A. Bureau office is on the line, too. I’m in Vermont. I think I have important news on the Mary Smith case.”

“I think I may have another connection for you—a murder in Vancouver,” Jeanne said. “What are you doing all the way up in Vermont?”

“Hold that thought about Vancouver. Please find Fielding. Or do whatever you have to do, but someone needs to pick up Michael Bell for questioning. Michael Bell. Marti Lowenstein-Bell’s husband.”

“What?” Jeanne sounded incredulous. Then Page swore, obviously muffling the receiver.

I gave them a very quick rundown of my last two days up here, then finally the names on the visitor log at the state hospital.

“He knows Mary Constantine. He’s visited her here in Vermont before. Several times, actually.”

“And what? He’s been setting her up? How would he even know she was in L.A.?”

“I don’t know everything yet. Maybe she looked him up when she got there; maybe they corresponded. If he wanted her story, it would have been worth something. I think he did want it, just not for a movie.”

“You think it was a cover, maybe to kill his own wife? That’s a big-ass coverup, Alex.”

“Sure is. It’s an incredible story, too. Page, are you getting this?”

“Got it. And I like it. Finally, something makes some sense to me.”