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Holly pressed her arm against the wall and cradled her forehead in the crook of her elbow. It had to have been Jared last night. “Wait. Can’t you get a warrant for wherever Jared is keeping the car? It has to be damaged from hitting my car last night—that’s why he’s hiding it.”
Andy breathed into the line. “It depends.”
Holly noted the tiredness in Andy’s voice, just as she’d seen in his eyes yesterday.
“First, we need to verify Jared’s alibi with more than just a receipt. I went to the bar to see if any of the bartenders could verify Jared’s statement, but the guy working last night called out sick today. I just got a lead on my double homicide, so I gave Detective O’Malley the bartender’s home address so he can speak to him. Since your case isn’t technically my jurisdiction, it’ll be better if he follows up anyway, in case this goes to trial. But I asked him to keep you informed.”
Holly turned and sank against the wall. “It was Jared, Andy. It had to be him.”
“I’m suspicious of Jared too. But if Jared’s alibi checks out, then we won’t have enough probable cause for a warrant. That’s why I asked O’Malley to speak to the bartender. If the bartendercan’tverify that Jared was at the bar during the time of your accident, then yes, I think he’d have enough cause to search Jared’s vehicle. But if he can…we have to consider that Jared wasn’t the one who did this to you last night.”
Holly wound the phone cord around her finger. “Okay,” she said, feeling only slightly reassured. Jared couldn’t have been at the bar when her car went over the bridge. What if the bartender justthinkshe was? If Jared went there before and after, how could the bartender really be sure? Especially if the place was busy.
The skin on her arms prickled. That would leave Jared free to come after her again.
Before Jared worked for King County Major Crimes, he was a detective on the Narcotics Unit and often worked undercover. She remembered Jared telling her once that he had some friends in low places who owed him favors. He might’ve also made some new ones in prison.What if this bartender is one of them? What if that’s why Jared went there, knowing he would vouch for him being there all night?
“How are you feeling, by the way?” Andy asked.
She bit her lip, imagining what Jared had planned for her next.
“Holly? Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh. Sorry. I’m um. Better. Thanks,” she lied.
“Good. Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you soon. Get some rest.”
“Thanks for calling, Andy.”
She heard the edge of fatigue in his voice and knew he probably hadn’t gotten any sleep last night after coming to the hospital and helping take down her report. Holly replaced the receiver after Andy hung up.
She went to pour another cup of coffee, thinking about Jared’s alibis for the last two nights. When Detective O’Malley had taken her report last night in the ER, she couldn’t be certain the car that had driven her off the bridge was the same car she’d seen in the Albertson’s parking lot the night before, only that they were both sedans. She was sure the car that ran her off the bridge had been black, but it had been too dark in the Albertson’s parking lot for her to make out the exact color of the car that stalked her.
Andy’s words replayed in her mind.We have to consider that Jared wasn’t the one who did this to you last night.She refilled her mug and noticed her hand trembling.What if Jared was telling the truth?She replacedthe carafe and pressed her palms against the counter. The thought that Jared might be innocent clawed at her, unsettling in a way she hadn’t expected.I should be relieved if it wasn’t him.
But if Jared didn’t drive her off the bridge, then who did?
Chapter 27
HOLLY
Holly turned up the volume on her Walkman over the rain pelting against the roof and closed her eyes. Roxy Vega’s first hit single, “Anarchy in Neon,” played through her headphones. She tried to envision what it must’ve felt like to be the young singer, on the uprise of punk rock fame, strolling along a downtown street in the middle of the night after leaving her friends at a bar near Pike Place Market.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Holly opened her eyes and paused the cassette. Had she heard something? Streaks of rain blurred the window that looked out over the Narrows Bridge. It had been raining on and off all day, just like it had the day Roxy Vega died.
She was about to press play when she heard it again.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
She pulled off her headphones, then crept slowly down the stairs, her shoulder sliding along the wall. Laurie always called before dropping by. Holly paused at the bottom of the steps, straining to make out the figure beyond the frosted glass. The outline looked taller—and thinner—than Jared’s stocky frame.
The stranger stood still, no longer knocking, as if they’d sensed Holly was on her way to the door. She got to her tiptoes and peered through the peephole. The tension dissipated from her shoulders. It was a teenage boy. Probably looking for money for a school fundraiser.
He turned and started down her porch steps.
Holly opened the door. “Can I help you?”