Page 93 of Protecting Peyton

His brother started typing. “Reporters are careful about communicating with sources, but I’ll see if I can find anything.”

Zane’s nod urged me to start again. “The roses had never been in the news reports. I took off for Atlanta that same day and never looked back. He knew I’d seen his face. He must have asked Cassie about me and gotten my name from her. I think he expected to lure me to dinner before her body was found.”

Constance chimed in, “So you’re the loose end he needed to clean up.”

“That would sure scare the shit out of me,” Grace agreed, slice of pizza in hand.

Serena nodded along.

So far, Zane had listened, but not asked anything.

“Did you talk to the police before or after you left?” Duke asked.

Maybe I should have slowed down on the wine.After I left where? “Both,” I answered, deciding it didn’t matter. “I called before I left Boston to say I’d seen Cassie at dinner with a man, but was told I should come in the next week to give a statement, and there was no way I was sticking around that long.”

“Did you mention the roses?” Serena asked.

“I don’t remember exactly what I said, except that I was sure I’d seen the Strangler. It sounded like they thought I was a hysterical woman.” I’d been going out of my mind trying to figure out what to do after going to Cassie’s and finding the roses and note.

“Idiots,” Winston commented.

“When I moved to Atlanta, I took a new name and threw out my old phone,” I explained. “I called the Boston police a week later on a prepaid phone to tell them what had happened, and they were more receptive. But when they wanted me to come back to Boston to be interviewed, I said no. I just told them everything over the phone that I knew. And I told them where my apartment was so they could check out the flowers and note I’d gotten.”

“Who did you contact at Boston PD?” Lucas asked.

I thought back. “The first time I used a tip line at the end of the article. When I was in Atlanta, I called the same number, but was transferred to a Ryan Flynn. He said he was a detective on the case.”

Lucas pointed at Jordy. “Look him up.”

Jordy started typing. “On it.”

The room went quiet as we watched him work.

“Got it,” Jordy said. “Boston homicide division has eight separate three-man squads. His squad is headed by Sergeant Quinn O’Connor. Flynn has been on the force for fourteen years, in homicide for eight now, one commendation, one officer-involved shooting—cleared on that one.” Jordy looked up. “I can dig further.”

“That’s good for now,” Lucas said before gesturing for me to continue. “Did you tell him your new name?”

Zane gently rubbed my back.

“No.” I shook my head. “I told him I’d moved to Atlanta, but I gave him my real name, my Boston name, when I called. Like I said, he wanted me to come back to Boston for an interview. But I wasn’t going back.”

“Smart,” Grace said.

“Then, six months ago, he found me in Atlanta.”

“Who?” Lucas asked.

“The Strangler.” I shivered, recalling the attack. “I got away and came here.”

Winston raised his hand. “Hold on. How did he find you? Or even know you were in Atlanta?”

“I’d told a few friends where I’d gone, and that detective. But I didn’t give anyone my new name.”

Jordy had been typing furiously and raised his hand. “I know how.”

“Enlighten us,” Lucas prodded.

“You sold your car there, didn’t you?” Jordy asked me.