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Holly caught a whiff of nicotine-laced smoke and resisted the craving for a long-familiar buzz. Instead, she pulled a stick of gum from her purse and folded it into her mouth, letting the minty flavor distract her from the urge.
“How long will it take?”
“The polygraph? Depends. If he’s telling the truth, probably not more than an hour.”
A surge of energy coursed through her veins.What if it’s him?
Andy looked her over, seeming to register the gleam of hope in her eyes.
He gestured toward her, the cigarette smoking between his index and middle fingers. “Do not release any of this yet to the public, understand? He’s cooperating, and we need to keep it that way. Plus, he might be innocent. But we’ll know more after he takes the polygraph.”
“What’s his name? Does he go by Bobby, Lou, or Denny?”
Andy shook his head. “Holly…you know I can’t give you that yet.”
She sighed. It was worth a shot. “How long ago was he here?” Looking toward the interview room on the other side of the hall, she shivered at the possibility of the Green River Killer—and Meg’s killer—being so close to where she was sitting right now.
Andy stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on his desk, leaving behind a faint spiral of smoke.
“Will you ask him about Meg?”
Andy cocked his head, giving her a look that saidwe’ve talked about this before. “Your sister is not a presumed Green River Killer victim. She wasn’t a prostitute, and she was murdered nearly two years before his first victims were found in the Green River.”
Meg was his first,Holly wanted to scream.“But what if Meg’s deathisrelated?”
A soft knock sounded on the opened door to Andy’s office. Holly turned to see Colleen in the doorway.
“Sorry to interrupt, Detective. But the polygraph examiner is here, and he wants to know where you want him to set up.”
Andy stood. “I’ll show him.”
Holly followed him out of his office. “Will you call me after it’s done?”
He turned when he reached the hall. “I’ll try, depending on how it goes.”
Holly made her way to the elevator, her body on autopilot, mind whirling with the possibility of Meg’s killer being captured later that day. She wished Andy had given her his name. The elevator doors opened on the first floor as her thoughts went wild trying to envision what he looked like.
Holly stepped off, remembering the boy who’d made her think of her nephew, the one she’d bumped into on her way up. Andy said the suspect had been with his son. Picturing the boy’s face, Holly recalled the witness who’d seen Sally Hickman get into a blue car with a boy in the backseat. She closed her eyes,replaying the voice of the boy’s father, wishing she’d turned around to look at him.
The skin on her arms prickled as the people moving through the busy courthouse lobby seemed to fall away. Holly froze, unaware of the elevator doors closing behind her. The lobby, full of subtle noises and movement, now felt unnaturally still, like a paused photograph.
In this very spot, she had been standing only a few feet from the man who could be the most prolific serial killer in American history. The man who might have killed her sister.
Chapter 9
JOHN
Rain pattered against the windshield as his dad drove them home from the Major Crimes Unit. John pictured Sally sitting in front of him as she had on Christmas Day, then turning around and flashing him her red-lipsticked smile. The image haunted him, like an eerie rerun that never stopped playing, every time he rode in his dad’s car.
John looked away and stared out his rain-streaked side window, watching the cars pass in a hazy blur. His dad hadn’t said a word since they’d left the courthouse, making John worry that he’d be in trouble when they got home.
Fear pounded in his chest.
“Dad,” John said, breaking the silence. He took a deep breath, deciding to ask the thing that had been gnawing at him for months. “What you did to Sally, would you ever…you know…do that to me?” His last word came out a croak.
“Of course not.” After stopping for a red light, his dad twisted in his seat to face him. “You’re my son. You’repartof me.” The sharpness in his dad’s eyes softened, replaced by something warmer. “I love you, John.”
The tension that had been building in John’s shoulders eased as he looked into his father’s eyes.