It’s barely twilight and I’m trying to follow the same path Garrett and I took through the park last night. I don’t see any hikers, but I freeze every time I hear skittering in the underbrush. I duck down behind a tree and watch for moving shadows. I hear it again. Too light to be human. Probably a squirrel, right?

This is no place for a girl from Bed-Stuy.

When I get to the big memorial rock, I orient myself and plunge through the thicket into the small clearing. I’m wearing my work gloves, but I didn’t bring a shovel. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. All I brought was an ice scraper from the trunk of the Subaru.

I kneel down and brush a section of leaves aside, then use the ice scraper to dig down through the soft dirt. Six inches… twelve inches… I cannot believe I’m doing this. Two feet now. My forearms are covered in dirt. At three feet down, I lean back, breathing hard. Enough. I sit there for a moment looking around, listening for sounds, watching for shapes.

I pull the plastic bag out of my pocket and take out the tennis bracelet. I drop it into the hole I just dug.

Suzanne, I hope this helps bring you home.

CHAPTER
62

Transcript of 911 call

DISPATCHER: Seabrook Police Department. What’s your emergency?

UNIDENTIFIED CALLER: I need to talk to an investigator with the state police.

DISPATCHER: What is your emergency, please?

UNIDENTIFIED CALLER: I have information concerning a homicide.

DISPATCHER: Ma’am, what is your location?

UNIDENTIFIED CALLER: Look, I know this call is being recorded. Connect me with a state police investigator right now, or I’ll hang up and you can explain to your supervisor why you didn’t help a citizen report a murder.

DISPATCHER: Hold, please.

[Pause in audio]

GAGNON: New Hampshire State Police, Detective Sergeant Gagnon. Can I have your name, please?

UNIDENTIFIED CALLER: My name doesn’t matter. Just listen. Suzanne Bonanno was buried in the woods in Seabrook, forty feet west of the Reverend Bonus Weare memorial rock.

GAGNON: Ma’am, can I get—

UNIDENTIFIED CALLER: No, you can’t.

[Call ends abruptly]

CHAPTER
63

Litchfield, Connecticut

I smash the burner phone and toss the parts into a drainage pond—and accidentally drop my own phone in with it.

“Shit!” I fish my phone out and power it down, knowing I won’t be able to dry it out until I get home.

At the farmhouse, I sit in the living room with the lights off and drapes pulled shut. If I had a gun, it would definitely be loaded and on my lap right now. I’m wishing I’d bought one in New Hampshire. Every few minutes, I get up to peek through the drapes, hoping to see the headlights of Garrett’s rental car.

Hoping I don’t see anybody else.