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She imagined Jared’s face, which then morphed into the shadowy face of the elusive Green River Killer.
Jared, the Green River Killer?A thousand questions swirled in her mind. Even though it seemed an outrageous thought, it had crossed her mind before. There had long been speculation that the Green River Killer was a cop: someone with authority who women trusted wouldn’t hurt them, someone calculated and knowledgeable enough to know how to avoid detection. Had Jared joined the task force to manipulate the evidence? Maybe that was why he lost it in Andy’s office that day.
After Jared went to prison for assaulting Holly, the presumed Green River killings became infrequent, so much so that Holly wondered if the handful of murders attributed to him since Jared went to prison could’ve been done by a copycat, or simply unrelated. But she’d chalked her suspicions up to having too many true crime stories floating around in her head.
Now, with Jared out of prison, her suspicions didn’t feel foolish. Had he killed Meg? Had she been engaged to her sister’s murderer?
The floor rocked from the float plane’s wake, but Holly hardly noticed. She positioned her hands on the keyboard and turned back to the screen.
Stop letting Jared get to you. That’s in the past. Right now, you need to focus.
Behind her, a kitchen cupboard smacked against its frame, making her jump. She spun in her seat, half-expecting Jared to be standing in the kitchen, wearing the same evil grin as the last time she’d seen him.
But her kitchen was empty. Her heart thudded against her chest. She chided herself for being so jumpy. Her cupboards had shifted from the wake of the float plane. It happened all the time.
She turned back around to face the computer.Jared doesn’t know where I live.She kept her phone number and address unlisted from the White Pages.But could Jared have a connection on the force who he could convince to give him her address?
Her fingertips rested atopthe keyboard as she exhaled out her mouth.She’d typed three words when she suddenly remembered.The article.How could she have forgotten?
She snatched the cordless phone off the desk and punched in the number she knew by heart.
“Hello?”
“Laurie. It’s me.”
“I was just about to call you. I’ve got great news. I just got off the phone with—”
“We need to cancel that article inPeoplemagazine. They can’t run it.”
“Cancel?” Laurie scoffed into the phone. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“No.”
“Are you drinking?”
“No.” Holly’s gaze fell to the glass of wine on the desk. “Well, yes, but not like that.”
“Why on earth would you want to cancel? This is the kind of publicity most authors would kill for. Aside from Stephen King, you’re the only author I know of to get a feature article like this.”
“They can’t run it. What if Jared reads it and sees where I live?” Holly stood, pacing the small space between the desk and the kitchen. She should never have let Laurie talk her into allowingPeopleto take her photo inside her houseboat for the feature article. At the time, they both thought Jared would remain behind bars for another three years, but she should have been thinking about the future.
“It’s too late, I’m afraid. It came out today. I slipped a copy into your bag at the bookstore, remember?”
Holly didn’t. She’d been too preoccupied by the news of Jared’s release.
“Shit.” Holly moved to the couch and felt inside the messenger bag. She withdrew the March issue ofPeople, recognizing the Menendez brothers on the cover, who’d been shockingly arrested for their parents’ slaying earlier that month.Murder in Beverly Hillswas printed in bold yellow letters above a photo of the Menendez family mansion. Holly’s heart sank at the smaller headline in the upper right corner: “Holly Sparks: Making Waves on a Seattle Houseboat.”
“No, no, no.” Holly cradled the phone with her shoulder as she flipped past the featured article showing a Menendez family photo beside an image of the two brothers sitting in a courtroom as they were arraigned for their parents’ brutal murder. Once she’d thumbed to the right page, her mouth fell open at the full-page image of her Lake Union houseboat’s exterior with Gas Works Park visible across the water. Anyone familiar withSeattle could figure out the location of her houseboat. Holly gritted her teeth at the title: “CRIME ON THE WATER: Lake Union Houseboat Author Makes a Killing.”
“Did you find it?” Laurie asked. “It’s a great piece, right? We couldn’t have timed it better with those Menendez brothers on the front.”
“I didn’t say they could photograph the outside of my houseboat.”
“I know, but—”
“Laurie, this is mylife.” Holly tossed the magazine onto the couch. “I can’t stay here. As soon as Jared gets in line at a supermarket, he’ll know exactly where I live.”
“I get it, but that was what, five years ago? Don’t you think the guy’s gotten over it by now? If he got an early release, maybe he’s reformed.”