Page 40
Story: The First Hunt
Her heart hammered against her chest as she recalled the figure creeping toward her last night in the parking lot.
She swallowed. “It’s Jared.”
Andy’s eyes widened in alarm. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and pulled the envelope containing the threatening poem from her purse, unfolding the typed paper on Andy’s desk. “No, but I got this. It was sent to my PO Box where I get fan mail. There was no return address, but it has to be from Jared.”
Andy dropped his gaze to the poem and pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. He looked up after reading the poem. “You’ve gotten hate mail before, haven’t you? Weren’t you telling me last summer that you got a slew of nasty letters from some woman in Nebraska?”
“Well, yes.” Holly crossed her legs, trying to mask her frustration.How can he not see this is from Jared?“But that was different. She was the aunt of a convicted killer I’d written about. She didn’t try to hide who she was. And they weren’t vague threats like this.”
“Okay. I can have this dusted for prints.”
Relieved, Holly sat back against her seat. “Thank you.”
“If you get another letter like this, try not to touch it and put it in a Ziploc.”
She berated herself for getting her fingerprints all over it. She should’ve known that from all her true crime writing, but she’d been too rattled to think clearly. “And Andy, last night”—she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap— “I went to Albertson’s—that same Albertson’s where that hairdresser from Tacoma was last seen at the bus stop. You know, the one who’s gone missing?”
He nodded.
“And a car followed me to my parking spot. Then it stopped, blocking my path. A man got out of the car and came toward me until I locked myself inside and drove away.”
Andy brought a hand to his chin. “Did you see his face?”
She met his gaze. “No. But I’m sure it was Jared. He was stalking me.”
“Did he follow you after you drove away?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. It was just before 9:00 p.m. I think he killed that woman. I think he could be The Bus Stop Killer.”
Andy’s gaze drifted toward the office window. He stared pensively at the darkness beyond it. She’d known Andy long enough to know that he was debating how to answer her.
“We’ve talked about this before. There is no Bus Stop Killer. Plus, it couldn’t have been Jared,” he finally said. “He has an alibi for last night.”
Holly stiffened in her chair. “How do you know that?”
Andy got up and closed his office door. “Last night, I had someone sitting on the house where Jared is living—plainclothes, unmarked car,” he said on his way back to the desk. “Jared is staying with an old informant of his from his time in the Narcotics Unit.”
“I remember Jared talking about him once. Tommy something, right?”
Andy nodded. “Tommy Reed. Another low life. So, it doesn’t surprise me they’re still friends. Anyway, my surveillance detective got pulled before midnight for a big narcotics operation that’s carrying out a bunch of search warrants in multiple houses across King County. But he was watching the house from about 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. There were two men inside, and one looked to be Jared. And he didn’t see anyone come or go.” After sitting, Andy rolled his chair toward his desk.
The short surveillance on Jared’s residence did nothing to convince Holly of Jared’s innocence. He could’ve left the house before five and not got home until after ten.
“The man in the parking lot last night, did you see his face?” Andy asked.
“No, it was too dark.”
Andy folded his hands on the desk. “Then how do you know it was him?”
Holly sighed. “I—I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.” She locked eyes with Andy, realizing how stupid she must sound. “Wait.” She put up a palm, confused. “Why did you have an undercover watching Jared?” Fear wound around her lungs like a vine. Was Andy so worried Jared would come after her that he deemed around-the-clock surveillance necessary? She wasn’t sure if that reassured or unsettled her. She knew how rare twenty-four-hour police surveillance was—after all, even Ted Bundy’s watch had been cut short due to budget cuts. Despite Jared’s history, she was surprised Andy had managed it at all.
Andy withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, the same brand he’d smoked for years, and placed one between his lips. Knowing she didn’t smoke, he returned the pack to his pocket before reaching for the lighter on the desk. He took a drag before holding the cigarette a few inches from his mouth.
“Before Jared went to prison for what he did to you…” He lowered his voice, glancing at his closed office door. “Jared was a suspect in the Green River Killer murders.”
Holly stared at him in disbelief.
She swallowed. “It’s Jared.”
Andy’s eyes widened in alarm. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and pulled the envelope containing the threatening poem from her purse, unfolding the typed paper on Andy’s desk. “No, but I got this. It was sent to my PO Box where I get fan mail. There was no return address, but it has to be from Jared.”
Andy dropped his gaze to the poem and pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. He looked up after reading the poem. “You’ve gotten hate mail before, haven’t you? Weren’t you telling me last summer that you got a slew of nasty letters from some woman in Nebraska?”
“Well, yes.” Holly crossed her legs, trying to mask her frustration.How can he not see this is from Jared?“But that was different. She was the aunt of a convicted killer I’d written about. She didn’t try to hide who she was. And they weren’t vague threats like this.”
“Okay. I can have this dusted for prints.”
Relieved, Holly sat back against her seat. “Thank you.”
“If you get another letter like this, try not to touch it and put it in a Ziploc.”
She berated herself for getting her fingerprints all over it. She should’ve known that from all her true crime writing, but she’d been too rattled to think clearly. “And Andy, last night”—she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap— “I went to Albertson’s—that same Albertson’s where that hairdresser from Tacoma was last seen at the bus stop. You know, the one who’s gone missing?”
He nodded.
“And a car followed me to my parking spot. Then it stopped, blocking my path. A man got out of the car and came toward me until I locked myself inside and drove away.”
Andy brought a hand to his chin. “Did you see his face?”
She met his gaze. “No. But I’m sure it was Jared. He was stalking me.”
“Did he follow you after you drove away?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. It was just before 9:00 p.m. I think he killed that woman. I think he could be The Bus Stop Killer.”
Andy’s gaze drifted toward the office window. He stared pensively at the darkness beyond it. She’d known Andy long enough to know that he was debating how to answer her.
“We’ve talked about this before. There is no Bus Stop Killer. Plus, it couldn’t have been Jared,” he finally said. “He has an alibi for last night.”
Holly stiffened in her chair. “How do you know that?”
Andy got up and closed his office door. “Last night, I had someone sitting on the house where Jared is living—plainclothes, unmarked car,” he said on his way back to the desk. “Jared is staying with an old informant of his from his time in the Narcotics Unit.”
“I remember Jared talking about him once. Tommy something, right?”
Andy nodded. “Tommy Reed. Another low life. So, it doesn’t surprise me they’re still friends. Anyway, my surveillance detective got pulled before midnight for a big narcotics operation that’s carrying out a bunch of search warrants in multiple houses across King County. But he was watching the house from about 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. There were two men inside, and one looked to be Jared. And he didn’t see anyone come or go.” After sitting, Andy rolled his chair toward his desk.
The short surveillance on Jared’s residence did nothing to convince Holly of Jared’s innocence. He could’ve left the house before five and not got home until after ten.
“The man in the parking lot last night, did you see his face?” Andy asked.
“No, it was too dark.”
Andy folded his hands on the desk. “Then how do you know it was him?”
Holly sighed. “I—I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.” She locked eyes with Andy, realizing how stupid she must sound. “Wait.” She put up a palm, confused. “Why did you have an undercover watching Jared?” Fear wound around her lungs like a vine. Was Andy so worried Jared would come after her that he deemed around-the-clock surveillance necessary? She wasn’t sure if that reassured or unsettled her. She knew how rare twenty-four-hour police surveillance was—after all, even Ted Bundy’s watch had been cut short due to budget cuts. Despite Jared’s history, she was surprised Andy had managed it at all.
Andy withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, the same brand he’d smoked for years, and placed one between his lips. Knowing she didn’t smoke, he returned the pack to his pocket before reaching for the lighter on the desk. He took a drag before holding the cigarette a few inches from his mouth.
“Before Jared went to prison for what he did to you…” He lowered his voice, glancing at his closed office door. “Jared was a suspect in the Green River Killer murders.”
Holly stared at him in disbelief.
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