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“What was the name of the Green River Killer suspect you interviewed in 1985 who drove a blue Ford Fairmont? The one Jared found walking around Star Lake with his son?”
A crease formed between Andy’s eyebrows. “The one who passed a polygraph?”
She nodded.
Andy shot a sideways glance at the floor as if working to recall the name. “It was Louie. Louie Prescott.”
Her shoulders relaxed.Not Clint.“You sure?”
“Yeah. Why?”
She shook her head. “It’s nothing.” Of course, it hadn’t been Clint. And even if it had, the guy had passed a polygraph.
As the detective led the way out of his office, Holly’s gaze dropped to a handwritten note on Andy’s desk.Mike’s Storage Units #41was scribbled on a yellow legal pad. Beneath it was a Federal Way address. Holly knew where it was; she’d driven by the storage facility before. That must be where Jared was keeping his car.
“I’ll let you know what I find out from the bartender after I speak to him,” Andy said as he stepped into the hall.
Holly trailed him out of the Major Crimes Unit, glad to see the receptionist on the phone when she passed the front desk,so she wouldn’t get cornered in a long-winded discussion about her books. Which reminded her, she was supposed to be writing one right now. She pulled a stick of gum from her pocket as she speed-walked to her car, zipping her jacket over her sweater to ward off the damp, chilly breeze.
After she climbed behind the wheel, something came together in the back of her mind. She mentally played back the names Meg’s roommate had given her of the older guy Meg had been hanging around when she was pregnant.Bobby, or Lou, or maybe Denny.
Holly chewed the inside of her cheek.Could Lou have been Louie Prescott?Except,she thought with a sigh,he’d passed a polygraph and alibis for several of the murders. The Green River Killer Task Force had ruled him out.
Although, they hadn’t asked him about Meg,a voice tugged at the back of her mind.
On the drive back to Tacoma, she forced herself to turn her thoughts to Roxy Vega, knowing if she didn’t ready her mind to write the chapter detailing the singer’s last night on Earth, she would get lost in trying to solve Meg’s murder all day.
After exiting off I-5 forty-five minutes later, she stopped at a red light, feeling clearer in the head than she had in days. The sky brightened as the midday sun peeked through a patch of clouds. Andy would prove whether Jared was the one who’d driven her off the bridge. Jared couldn’t have been at that bar the whole time.
But what if Jared was telling the truth? The idea of Jared being innocent still unsettled her. Because if it wasn’t Jared who’d tried to kill her, then who had? Holly thought of Roxy Vega, bludgeoned to death by a stranger in a Seattle alleyway—a random act of violence.Had I simply been the victim of a random road rage incident?
It had to be Jared, Holly decided, thinking of his threating notes and the man who’d stalked her to her car in the Albertson’s parking lot. She exhaled, pressing her back into the seat. Andy would make sure Jared didn’t get away with it.
Waiting for the light to turn, she glanced out the passenger window at the newly built, two-story library. She chewed her gum as she surveyed the building, her mind returning to Clint’s car and the way his demeanor darkened last night after learning Laurie had told her about his wife’s suicide.
A honk erupted behind her, making her jump in her seat.
Looking up to find the light green, Holly hit the gas and made a sharp right turn before pulling into the library’s parking lot. Holly knew what Laurie would say if she found her here, digging up old newspaper articles.Not everything is a mystery waiting to be solved.
Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe she was jealous after seeing the brunette leave Clint’s house this morning. She tapped her index finger on the steering wheel as she parked. No, it was more than that. Maybe it was the blue Ford Fairmont in Clint’s garage. Whatever it was, something nagged at her. She needed to find out more about Clint’s wife’s death.
She climbed out of the car, locked the door, and strode toward the building. There had to be an article about Diana’s death. She checked her watch as she walked. If she was going to meet her deadline, she didn’t have time for this.
I’ll do a quick search,she told herself.Put my mind at ease, then go back and write for the rest of the day.
Chapter 34
JOHN
John peered over the second-story balcony of the library and studied the back of Holly’s head as she hunched over a microfilm reader machine. He was too far away to see what articles she was reading, but it had to be either for the book she was writing or her Green River Killer obsession. From the array of names, maps, photos, lists, and handwritten theories that covered her office wall, it was likely the latter.
Holly jotted something down in a notebook. John’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of his shirt as he strained to see what filled Holly’s screen. Using a knob at the base of the machine, Holly flipped to the next page of the newspaper before John could make out what she’d been looking at.
What if she was looking into the woman who was last seen at the Albertson’s down the street? Her photo was pinned to Holly’s wall.Have they found her?John wondered.No,he decided. He’d watched the news this morning, and they hadn’t said anything about her body being discovered. And even if it had,that didn’t explain why Holly would be looking up old articles.
John tucked his borrowed copies ofThe Onion FieldandRebecca, a gothic fiction novel recommended by his English teacher,under his arm and backed away from the banister. He needed to get closer.
He’d been planning to stop here anyway to look for the true crime book Holly had recommended when he’d spotted her station wagon in the parking lot. After buying a premade sandwich at Albertson’s, John had driven to a park his mom used to take him to when he was little and eaten in the car while it rained.