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The Pinellas County Sheriff’s Office emptied out as evening crept in. Night shift replaced the day shift, and somewhere outside the wind was howling. Storm incoming, maybe.

Looking at close-up crime scene photos from both murders, even the stones themselves looked similar. This killer had done their homework.

The more Ella thought about it, the bigger her potential suspect pool seemed to grow. How many times had she heard a local boogeyman story? For all she knew, there could have been several generations of people around here who grew up hearing about Jennifer Marlowe’s grim fate.

Ella ran back her conversation with Ramsey Cole in her head, and there was indeed one thing she could latch onto.

Frank said she was a writer lady. Interested in the Marlowe investigation.

An author. One that Frank was apparently communicating with. If Frank had spilled the finer details about the case to her, or even given her access to the original crime scene photos – then she might have increased the reach of this case.

She pulled her laptop closer and typed ‘Sarah Webb Florida’ into the search bar.

The internet coughed up a buffet of results, most useless. Webb was apparently a common enough name that the algorithm struggled to narrow things down without more specifics. She refined her search:

‘Sarah Webb true crime author unsolved murders Florida.’

Better. The third result jumped out at her: ‘Sarah Webb, Author, Journalist - Official Website.’

She clicked, and the page loaded to reveal a black-and-white site. In the corner was a headshot of a woman in her fifties. She had angular glasses, a severe bun and the kind of stance that suggested the photographer had told her to ‘look approachable but serious.’

Ella clicked through to the ‘About’ section:

Sarah Webb spent twenty years covering crime for the Miami Herald before turning her investigative skills to unsolved cases throughout the Sunshine State. She is a freelance journalist and the author of five books.

Ella clicked through to the bibliography page. She found the books in question:

Cold Florida: Unsolved Murders in the Sunshine State (2012).

Silent Witnesses: When the Trail Goes Cold (2015).

Paradise Lost: Death in Tourist Country (2018).

Deadly Shores: Florida’s Coastal Killers (2022).

Behind Closed Doors: The Secret History of Palm Harbor (2024).

The first book. Florida. That title resonated.

A distant bell chimed in the dusty archive of Ella’s memory.

She’d read it years ago. Hoovered it up during a deep dive into regional cold cases, maybe back at Quantico, maybe on a long flight.

It was just another title consumed in her endless appetite for murder lore.

She closed her eyes; focused. Accessed the memory. The book’s texture, the slightly cheap paper, the chapter layout. Yes. Chapter Four. Headed: The Palm Harbor Puzzle: Who Silenced Jennifer Marlowe?

Ella’s breath hitched. The details flooded back, crisp and clear as if she’d read it that morning.

That’s how she knew about the stones. It wasn’t a memory fragment from some other case; it was a published fact, albeit one buried in a chapter of a regional true crime book few outside the dedicated circles would have read.

Suddenly, the suspect pool wasn’t just locals whispering ghost stories. It was anyone who’d read Webb’s book. Anyone nursing a grudge against Frank. Anyone looking for a particularly nasty way to leave a message. Anyone who wanted to resurrect a fifty-year-old monster.

Ella jumped to the keyboard again. She navigated Webb’s site. Bio, Books, Contact.

Events.

TONIGHT! December 15th – 8:00 PM. Palm Harbor Community Hall. Sarah Webb Presents: The Sandman Slumber – Re-examining the 1998 Beachside Burials.

Webb was doing a talk, tonight.

Ella checked her watch. 8:02 PM. If she left now, she might catch most of the show.

More importantly, she could corner Sarah Webb afterward about her conversations with Frank.

If Webb had been interviewing Frank about Marlowe, she might know what he’d discovered, and what connections he’d been making in the days before his death.

‘Got you a sandwich,’ Ripley’s voice preceded her into the room. ‘You look like you haven’t eaten since May.’

‘Mia, check this. Remember how Ramsey mentioned Frank had been talking to an author? I found her.’

Ripley checked the laptop screen. ‘Sarah Webb, huh?’

‘Yeah. And she’s doing a talk tonight about an old murder case.’

‘Ugh. The ‘98 burials. I remember it well.’

‘Wanna go hear about it again?’

‘No, but something tells me you’re going to drag me there.’

‘Yes I am.’ Ella grabbed her things. ‘If she was close to Frank, she might be able to give us some info about his last few weeks. Or maybe point us in the direction of someone who might want to kill him.’

‘Fine. But if this Webb woman starts spouting half-baked theories about the ‘98 burials, I might have something to say.’

‘Wouldn’t have it any other way. Let’s go.’