In the Dark by Brian Freeman Page B
Authors: Brian Freeman
Tags: Fiction, detective, Suspense, Psychological, Thrillers, American Mystery & Suspense Fiction, Mystery, Mystery Fiction, Fiction - Mystery, Mystery & Detective - General, Murder, Duluth (Minn.)
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him by figuring out how he picks his victims.
Bullshit, Clark snapped.
Maggie arched her head in surprise. Excuse me?
I mean, hes done this to Mary before. Whats to say he wont come back again?
Youre saying this isnt the first time Mary saw this man?
Clark shook his head. I think it happened last week, too.
Why didnt you tell me this before? Why didnt you report it?
I didnt think there was anything to report, Clark said. I thought Mary had a bad dream. I thought she imagined it. But now that I think about it, the way she was shouting, Him! Him! I think it was because the guy came back.
The guy came back.
That was a first, as far as Maggie knew. None of the other victims had suggested that the man might have been watching them before. Of course, maybe he got lucky. Maybe they didnt notice.
Maggie didnt think so, though. This was new behavior. New and frightening.
She didnt like it.
10
___________
Serena drove west along the Point on Wednesday morning. After several days of rain, the clouds had blown out across the lake, leaving the city sunny and warm. In the calm harbor on her left, she spotted the rust-colored superstructure of an ore tanker shouldering through the deep water toward the lift bridge. She swore. She was running late already for her meeting with Peter Stanhope, and she knew that she would have to spend ten minutes now waiting for the boat to clear the canal and make its way to the open water.
As she expected, the bridge was up. Hers was the fourth car in line. She parked, rolled down her window to let in a humid breeze, and picked up a paperback by Louise Penny. When you lived on the Point, you were always prepared for delays at the bridge. Serena read several more pages of Still Life, until she saw the giant ship gliding under the bridge span. The boats always seemed to clear the bridge with only inches to spare, and they were an impressive sight, vast and silent. When the ship and the bridge exchanged farewell blasts of their signal horns, Serena turned her Mustang back on, and a couple of minutes later, she headed through Canal Park toward the city center.
Peter Stanhopes law firm occupied the top two floors of the Lonsdale Building, in the commercial sector of Superior Street, among the banks, brokers, lawyers, and government workers that made the city tick. The facade was made of elegantly carved, copper-colored brick, with a roof line that resembled a Doric column. The building was smaller than the other high-rises around it and dated back to 1894. Peter could have chosen taller and more modern surroundings in the glass tower of the bank building one block east, but he had explained to Serena that he wanted his office to have a link to a more glamorous past, when the city, like his father, was rich and prosperous.
Serena found a parking meter and hurried across Superior Street between cars. She wore black pinstriped dress pants that emphasized her long legs, pointed-toe heels, and an untucked turquoise silk shirt. Her black hair was loose and fell around her shoulders. She carried a slim burgundy briefcase and felt as if she were dressed to be a ladder-climbing corporate executive. It was a strange feeling. When she was a Vegas cop, she had worn tight jeans and sleeveless T-shirts and hung her shield from her belt.
She took the elevator to the top floor at ten minutes after ten oclock. She was panicked about being late, but she relaxed when the receptionist told her that Peter was tied up in another meeting and was running at least twenty minutes behind schedule. She took a seat on the sofa, then got up again and paced restlessly in the waiting area.
The lobby furniture was antique and expensive. Black-and-white photographs adorned the wall, showing Peters father and
Bullshit, Clark snapped.
Maggie arched her head in surprise. Excuse me?
I mean, hes done this to Mary before. Whats to say he wont come back again?
Youre saying this isnt the first time Mary saw this man?
Clark shook his head. I think it happened last week, too.
Why didnt you tell me this before? Why didnt you report it?
I didnt think there was anything to report, Clark said. I thought Mary had a bad dream. I thought she imagined it. But now that I think about it, the way she was shouting, Him! Him! I think it was because the guy came back.
The guy came back.
That was a first, as far as Maggie knew. None of the other victims had suggested that the man might have been watching them before. Of course, maybe he got lucky. Maybe they didnt notice.
Maggie didnt think so, though. This was new behavior. New and frightening.
She didnt like it.
10
___________
Serena drove west along the Point on Wednesday morning. After several days of rain, the clouds had blown out across the lake, leaving the city sunny and warm. In the calm harbor on her left, she spotted the rust-colored superstructure of an ore tanker shouldering through the deep water toward the lift bridge. She swore. She was running late already for her meeting with Peter Stanhope, and she knew that she would have to spend ten minutes now waiting for the boat to clear the canal and make its way to the open water.
As she expected, the bridge was up. Hers was the fourth car in line. She parked, rolled down her window to let in a humid breeze, and picked up a paperback by Louise Penny. When you lived on the Point, you were always prepared for delays at the bridge. Serena read several more pages of Still Life, until she saw the giant ship gliding under the bridge span. The boats always seemed to clear the bridge with only inches to spare, and they were an impressive sight, vast and silent. When the ship and the bridge exchanged farewell blasts of their signal horns, Serena turned her Mustang back on, and a couple of minutes later, she headed through Canal Park toward the city center.
Peter Stanhopes law firm occupied the top two floors of the Lonsdale Building, in the commercial sector of Superior Street, among the banks, brokers, lawyers, and government workers that made the city tick. The facade was made of elegantly carved, copper-colored brick, with a roof line that resembled a Doric column. The building was smaller than the other high-rises around it and dated back to 1894. Peter could have chosen taller and more modern surroundings in the glass tower of the bank building one block east, but he had explained to Serena that he wanted his office to have a link to a more glamorous past, when the city, like his father, was rich and prosperous.
Serena found a parking meter and hurried across Superior Street between cars. She wore black pinstriped dress pants that emphasized her long legs, pointed-toe heels, and an untucked turquoise silk shirt. Her black hair was loose and fell around her shoulders. She carried a slim burgundy briefcase and felt as if she were dressed to be a ladder-climbing corporate executive. It was a strange feeling. When she was a Vegas cop, she had worn tight jeans and sleeveless T-shirts and hung her shield from her belt.
She took the elevator to the top floor at ten minutes after ten oclock. She was panicked about being late, but she relaxed when the receptionist told her that Peter was tied up in another meeting and was running at least twenty minutes behind schedule. She took a seat on the sofa, then got up again and paced restlessly in the waiting area.
The lobby furniture was antique and expensive. Black-and-white photographs adorned the wall, showing Peters father and
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