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She sat at the desk and sifted through the mess of handwritten notes beside her typewriter, along with a stack of write-ins she had yet to open. Ever since she’d covered the infamous murder of popular radio host Cassidy Ray two years ago, her write-ins had been hard to keep up with. When she’d taken the job as a crime reporter for theTribuneto find out who killed Meg, she hadn’t expected to gain such a following of readers.
Two pieces were due tomorrow at theTribune: one was her ongoing coverage of a string of burglaries that had been happening at Seattle convenience stores, and the other was an update and a request for information from the public on the disappearance of Jennifer Duran, the twenty-year-old waitress last seen waiting for a bus after leaving a friend’s house on the evening of January 10. Duran’s disappearance had garnered so much public interest that Holly’s boss wanted her to publish an update every week and ask for the public’s help in finding her, regardless of new information.
Holly lifted her gaze to the opposite wall, where the only article ever written about Meg’s murder was tacked, headlinedSTRIPPER FOUND DEAD. Stripper.Not her sister’s name or her age.Stripperhad been all the public needed to know. Holly wondered how many people who’d read the short article thought Meg had actually deserved to die.
Like Jennifer Duran, Meg had also been last seen at a bus stop before accepting a ride from someone driving a blue car. On Holly’s handwritten draft of Duran's disappearance, Holly scribbledGRK?before sliding the pen over the top of her ear, using her thick dark curls to help hold it in place while she typed.
It was largely believed that the Green River Killer’s victims were mostly sex workers or runaways, like Holly’s sister, even though police refused to believe Holly’s theory that the Green River Killer murdered Meg. But when women like Jennifer Duran went missing, it fostered a growing panic in the public: not only was a serial killer on the loose in King County, but no young woman was safe.
Holly pulled the half-typed page from the typewriter, then leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes. Outside, an ambulance siren wailed. She had ten pages of notes to weed through before drafting her piece on the convenience store burglaries.
Becoming theTribune’syoungest primary crime reporter had come with its drawbacks, but she was at least now getting called to the scene when a Green River Killer victim was found, getting a first-hand look at the work of the man who’d killed her sister.
Holly mindlessly unwrapped a stick of gum from the half-empty pack on the desk before getting up. She folded the gum into her mouth as she stood facing the map on the wall behind her. Crossing her arms, she studied the spot where Jennifer Duran had gone missing in relation to where over fifty women—including Meg—had been found strangled in King County in the last five years. All those murders remained unsolved.What if Jared was right? I’m not a detective. Am I going to spend my life obsessing over the Green River Killer in the hope of finding a lead in Meg’s murder?
She looked up at the redXon the map that marked where Meg’s body had been found in the yard of an abandoned house in White Center. Holly swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. That was a week after she’d been last seen. No one had even reported Meg missing.
Her phone rang in the kitchen, making her jump. She turned from the map and took a deep breath as she stepped into the hall. It was probably Jared calling to apologize.
She pulled the transparent phone off the hook of the kitchen wall.
“Hello?”
“Holly?”
The gruff voice wasn’t Jared’s. It was her boss at theTribune.Probably assigning her another burglary to report on before the morning. She checked her watch. If that were the case, she could be up all night. “Yes, this is Holly.”
“I just got a tip from Seattle Homicide. A young female’s body has been discovered in the woods in Riverview, near the WestDuwamish Greenbelt Trailhead. I need you to head there now, and I want a full story by midnight.”
A shiver of anticipation rippled through her.Had Meg’s killer struck again?She stretched the phone cord to grab her coat off the chair at the kitchen table. “Got it. I’ll be right there.”
Chapter 2
HOLLY
Holly’s headlights swept over the white KOMO-TV news van when she parked her Honda Civic behind an unmarked detective’s car at the trailhead. Holly scrambled out of her car, notebook and tape recorder in hand. A bright light shone on Stacey Evans, KOMO’s evening news reporter, illuminating her Madonna-esque blond perm. Stacey held a microphone and spoke into the camera.
Holly swore under her breath, giving Stacey a wide berth so she wouldn’t appear in the footage. The news channel must’ve gotten the same tip Holly had. So much for a breaking story tomorrow morning.
“An unidentified woman’s body has been discovered in a wooded area in Riverview this evening by a jogger who reported a foul odor near a running trail.” Stacey’s solemn eyes, highlighted by blue eye shadow, bored into the camera. “The discovery comes less than two weeks after twenty-year-old waitress Jennifer Duran disappeared from a bus stop after leaving a friend’s home in neighboring Burien.”
Holly stopped at the sound of the woman’s name. She’d been covering her disappearance, and on the drive, she’d said a prayer for Jennifer. Like the rest of the Seattle public, Holly had gotten caught up in Jennifer’s disappearance and had been holding out hope that Jennifer was still alive. But right now, she had a job to do.
While the reporter continued to speculate, Holly strode up the dirt parking area toward the start of the trail, where a stone-faced uniformed officer had been posted beside the crime scene tape. He didn’t look much older than her. Beyond the officer, several flashlight beams swept the woods, their lights cutting through the dark, dense forest. They were too far away for her to get a glimpse of what they were looking at. Not recognizing the officer, Holly pulled her laminated press ID out from her blazer.
The officer shone a flashlight on her ID, which also illuminated what looked to be a coffee stain on the front of his blue uniform shirt.
“There’s no press allowed beyond this point,” Officer Coffee Stain said.
“I’m Holly Sparks, primary crime reporter for theSeattle Tribune.” She pointed to the dark-haired homicide sergeant combing the woods behind him who’d likely called in the tip. “We got a tip from Seattle Homicide.”
Officer Coffee Stain glanced over his shoulder. “You still can’t go back there.”
“Could you let him know that I’m here?”
The officer flashed her a look of annoyance before shaking his head.
“Hey, Holly.”