He gave her a minute of silence. He knew she was tempted to get up and leave. Whatever was bothering her, it made her feel vulnerable, and she was obviously a woman who didn't enjoy that feeling.

'I didn't miss the ferry,' she admitted. 'I decided not to go home tonight.'

'I see.'

Her face was haunted, which only made it prettier. He disliked women who wanted you to take care of them, and that wasn't Hilary Bradley at all. She looked as if she could barely get the words out to admit what was in her head.

'Be honest with me,' she said. 'Do you really have a witness who saw Mark kissing Glory Fischer on the beach?'

Cab understood. The foundation on which she'd built her life suddenly felt weak. Normally, he wouldn't have said a thing about the evidence in the case, but he found himself unable to say nothing. He hedged his words.

'I haven't talked to the witness myself,' he said. 'I'm going to do that tomorrow. I can't tell you exactly what he saw or didn't see.'

'It was dark on the beach. It could still be a case of misidentification.'

'I can't say yes or no.'

'Things aren't always what they seem,' she said forcefully, and he thought she was talking to herself as much as she was talking to him.

'I realize that. For what it's worth, Mrs Bradley, I hope your husband is innocent. I'd like to think there are a few strong relationships left in this world.'

'I thought you only believed in betrayal, Detective.' Her voice was cold again.

'I do, but I'd like to be wrong now and then.'

Hilary got off the bench and squared her shoulders. 'You're wrong now.'

'Maybe so.'

'Here's what I believe,' Hilary told him. 'Your witness didn't see what he thinks he saw. Either it wasn't Mark, or he misinterpreted what was happening between them.'

'Forgive me, Mrs Bradley, but if you really believe that, why did you miss your ferry?'

'f.u.c.k you,' she snapped, surprising him with her venom. She spun on her heel, then stopped in the middle of the clearing. 'I'm sorry. Mark would never kill anyone. That's not the kind of man he is.'

'He may not be, but that doesn't mean anything.'

'Would you kill an innocent girl?' she asked. 'Could you ever do something like that?'

I already did.

'An innocent girl? Of course not.'

'Then why do you think Mark could?'

She didn't wait for an answer, and he wasn't going to give her one. She retreated to her car and drove away toward downtown Fish Creek with an angry roar of her motor. He was alone again with the encroaching night and the violent water of Green Bay below him. He didn't like it, no matter how beautiful it was. It felt deadly. Catch-a- Cab Bolton was ready to be anywhere else but here.

Chapter Twenty-Nine.

Gary Jensen lived at a hilltop intersection where five roads came together at the end of the developed area of the city. Across from his corner house, the land gave way to gra.s.s fields and farmland. Amy pulled into Gary's driveway after dark under the thick cover of giant oaks and sugar maples crowding the house. She switched off the engine. The radio, which had been playing a moody song by Adele called 'Hometown Glory', went silent on the final notes.

She sat in her car and texted Katie. I'm here. I'm here.

Amy got out of the car. Lights glowed on both stories of the brick house, but the curtains were tightly drawn. Tree branches dangled close enough to sc.r.a.pe the gla.s.s on most of the windows. She hiked along the gra.s.sy shoulder to the front of the house. A street light threw her shadow down the hill behind her on the road that led to the distant bay. Ahead of her, no more than half a mile away, she heard the whine of car motors on Highway 57, speeding to and from downtown Green Bay. She saw a patch of trees diagonally across from the house, marking Wequiock Falls County Park. She'd hiked there to see the waterfall in each of the seasons, not knowing that Gary lived within shouting distance of the trail.

Her phone jangled with music. Katie had texted back. Don't do anything stupid. Don't do anything stupid.

Amy wondered if she already had, just by being here. She threaded through the maze of fat tree trunks to the front door. When she rang the bell, Gary answered immediately. He'd been waiting for her.

'Amy,' he said with a grin. 'Come on in.'

The house had a shut-in smell of dust and age, like an old person's house. It smelled the way her grandmother's house always did. The wallpaper was ornate, and it was worn down to the wall in places. The carpet was a dense, plush chocolate brown. Gary led her into a square living room, where the overhead light from an antique bra.s.s fixture was dimmed. She saw a piano pushed against one wall, a paisley sofa, and a claw-foot armchair. The room looked out toward the street, but the heavy drapes had been swept closed.

'It's ghastly, isn't it?' Gary said. 'I think the Addams Family lived here.'

Amy shrugged, it's just old-fashioned.'

'It belonged to an eighty-year-old woman. She lived alone. Probably one of those lifelong virgins who had eighteen cats. The dust was incredible. We bought it cheap because the family was anxious to unload it after she died. My wife figured we'd tear everything out, but we never got the chance.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Sometimes I think about burning the whole house down,' Gary said, 'and starting over.'

He looked at her as if expecting a reaction. She gave him an uneasy smile. 'Guess the insurance company wouldn't like that.'

'I guess" not.' He gestured at the sofa. 'Sit down, make yourself comfortable. I'm really glad you came by.'

Amy sat on the edge of the sofa with her hands in her lap. She thought she looked like a woman at a tea party, with a yardstick up the back of her dress. Relax, Relax, she told herself. she told herself.

Gary sat down in the armchair and crossed his legs. He wore a burgundy b.u.t.ton-down shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes. The skin on his mostly bald scalp was suntanned. On his left hand, she noticed the glint of silver where he still wore a wedding ring. He never took his eyes off her. She crossed her arms over her chest when she noticed his gaze drifting to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. It made no difference. She may as well have been stark naked.

'You did really well in Naples,' Gary told her. 'You bring a real athleticism to your routines. It's a pleasure to watch you perform. I mean, let's face it, there's a sensual quality to dance, and the best dancers know how to exploit it.'

'I don't really think about that,' Amy said.

'No, of course not, it comes naturally. I can see it in the grace with which you move your body.'

Amy played with her curls and felt uncomfortable. 'Thanks.'

Gary stood up again. 'I was about to open a bottle of wine. Would you like a gla.s.s? Our little secret.'

'Um, sure, I suppose. Not much, though, I still have to drive.'

'I'll be right back,' he told her. 'The TV is inside the big cabinet there. I've got the DVD of the team performances in the machine. Check it out.'

'Yeah, OK.'

Gary retreated from the living room, and she heard his shoes on the hardwood floor of the foyer. She hurried to the doorway. She heard Gary in the kitchen on the other end of the hallway, behind a swinging door. On her left was a wide winding staircase with a wrought-iron banister leading to the second floor. She noticed a roll-top desk in the foyer with envelopes sticking out of cubbyholes, and she pulled out several of the envelopes to see what they were. Most were bills and bank statements. She wanted something, anything, to connect Gary to Glory Fischer, but she didn't know where to look. Quickly, she yanked his Verizon bill out of the open envelope, but before she could review the dialed numbers, she heard the clink of crystal in the kitchen. She stuffed the bill and envelope back into the slot and ran back into the living room. She could feel a flush on her face, and she was breathing heavily.

Gary strolled into the room with two gla.s.ses of wine in his hands. 'You didn't turn on the TV?' he asked.

'I couldn't find the remote,' Amy said.

'It's right on top of the cabinet,' he said, smiling.

'Oh, duh. Sure.'

'You OK?' he asked, noticing her jittery demeanor.

'Yeah, I'm fine.'

He opened the walnut doors of the cabinet, revealing a wide-screen television inside. He clicked on the power and pushed the play b.u.t.ton on the DVD machine. Amy saw the arena at the Naples hotel and heard the chatter of the crowd in the bleachers. On screen, girls from her Green Bay team were rehearsing before their first event. She recognized herself, doing stretches on the mat, her legs spread apart. Gary's camera seemed to focus on her body.

Gary handed her a gla.s.s of wine. 'Here you go.'

'Thanks.'

He clinked her gla.s.s. 'To you, Amy.'

She drank a sip. The wine was cold and dry. 'This is great.'

'I'm glad you like it.'

'That was quite the week in Florida,' Amy said.

'I love Naples. Someday I'd love to get a condo down there.'

'Yeah, that would be great.' She drank more wine in a nervous gulp. 'Did you hear about what happened on Sat.u.r.day night? A Wisconsin girl got killed. Pretty scary.'

Gary sat down in the old armchair again and swirled the wine in his gla.s.s. 'I did hear about it. Terrible.'

'She was from Door County. That's not far away.'

'No, it's not.'

'I saw her picture in the paper. I think I saw the girl in the hotel.'

'Really? You saw her?'

'Yeah, what about you? Do you remember her?'

Gary shook his head. 'No.'

'I suppose when you're around a couple hundred teenage girls, they all start to look alike.'

'If she was on one of the other teams, I'm sure I would have noticed her.'

'Yeah, probably. It makes you think, huh? Sounds like she was killed on the beach on Sat.u.r.day night. I was too keyed up to sleep, so I was just lying in bed. If only I'd been looking out the window, you know? Maybe I would have seen something.'

'Well, you can hardly blame yourself, Amy,' Gary told her.

'Oh, yeah, I know.' She added, 'I never sleep well at the end of a compet.i.tion. What about you?'

'I'm the same way. I toss and turn.'

'Yeah, my room was next to yours. I thought I heard you coming in late. I figured you couldn't sleep either.'

Gary got an odd little smile on his face. 'You must have heard somebody else. I was in my room all night.'

'Really? I was sure I heard your door open and close.'

'I left to get ice at one point. I forgot about that. That's probably what you heard.'

'Sure.'

Gary's eyes were steady; he stared back at her without blinking. His voice was calm, not speeding up, not getting louder. He didn't show any outward signs of guilt or suspicion. Even so, Amy was convinced he wasn't telling her the truth. His explanations came too quickly and too easily. It was almost as if he'd been antic.i.p.ating her questions and had been practicing all the right answers to deflect her concerns.

With each sip of wine, she found herself getting a headache. She didn't drink much, and she put the gla.s.s down, not wanting to make it worse.

'It was a beautiful hotel,' she continued.

'Gorgeous. Very elegant.'

'I was in the pool so much I thought I was going to grow gills,' she said, giggling. That was a lame joke. Why did she say that?

'Yes, I remember seeing you there. You look pretty d.a.m.n good in a swimsuit.' He smiled at her. His eyes glittered.

'That was my power bikini,' she said, laughing too loudly. 'Didn't I see you talking to a girl by the pool on Sat.u.r.day night?'

'I don't recall.'

'It wasn't one of the Green Bay girls, so that's why I noticed.'

'If you say so, Amy,' he told her, still smiling.

'You were wearing your white Phoenix T-shirt.'

'Well, lots of men wear white T-shirts down there.'

'Yeah, I guess.'

Gary's phone began ringing. He glanced at the caller ID. 'I'm sorry, I need to take this call. It could take me a couple minutes, do you mind? Make yourself comfortable.'