Page 19 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)

HOLLY

H olly stared at her computer screen beside the main floor window of her Lake Union houseboat.

She could afford more, but she liked the feeling of being on the water.

At least she used to, when she knew Jared was behind bars in a maximum-security prison.

Now, she wished she lived in a high-rise condo with twenty-four-hour security.

She took a drink from the large glass of wine she’d poured after getting home from her book signing. In the last hour or two, she’d written three sentences. Something fluttered outside her window, and her body stiffened. She jerked her head to see a seagull landing on the adjacent dock.

Holly checked her word count and took another drink from her wine. She was never going to finish her draft if she kept letting her mind wander to her ex-fiancé. Ever since Andy told her about Jared’s release, she’d been on high alert.

Her gaze drifted to the rust-red pipes and towers of Gas Works Park, the skeletal remains of the old gasification plant across the lake as a float plane came down for a landing.

Holly lifted a crime scene photo off the stack of papers beside her keyboard and found the handwritten notes she’d taken yesterday after replaying her recorded interview with Roxy’s mother.

Holly started to read her words when an image of Jared being led out of the courtroom after his sentencing flashed in her mind. She envisioned his menacing grin as if it were yesterday. Even though he’d been convicted of first-degree assault, he’d wanted her to know it wasn’t over. She hadn’t won.

She imagined Jared’s face, which then morphed into the shadowy face of the elusive Green River Killer.

Jared, the Green River Killer? A thousand questions swirled in her mind.

Even though it seemed an outrageous thought, it had crossed her mind before.

There had long been speculation that the Green River Killer was a cop: someone with authority who women trusted wouldn’t hurt them, someone calculated and knowledgeable enough to know how to avoid detection.

Had Jared joined the task force to manipulate the evidence?

Maybe that was why he lost it in Andy’s office that day.

After Jared went to prison for assaulting Holly, the presumed Green River killings became infrequent, so much so that Holly wondered if the handful of murders attributed to him since Jared went to prison could’ve been done by a copycat, or simply unrelated.

But she’d chalked her suspicions up to having too many true crime stories floating around in her head.

Now, with Jared out of prison, her suspicions didn’t feel foolish. Had he killed Meg? Had she been engaged to her sister’s murderer?

The floor rocked from the float plane’s wake, but Holly hardly noticed. She positioned her hands on the keyboard and turned back to the screen.

Stop letting Jared get to you. That’s in the past. Right now, you need to focus.

Behind her, a kitchen cupboard smacked against its frame, making her jump. She spun in her seat, half-expecting Jared to be standing in the kitchen, wearing the same evil grin as the last time she’d seen him.

But her kitchen was empty. Her heart thudded against her chest. She chided herself for being so jumpy. Her cupboards had shifted from the wake of the float plane. It happened all the time.

She turned back around to face the computer. Jared doesn’t know where I live. She kept her phone number and address unlisted from the White Pages . But could Jared have a connection on the force who he could convince to give him her address?

Her fingertips rested atop the keyboard as she exhaled out her mouth. She’d typed three words when she suddenly remembered. The article. How could she have forgotten?

She snatched the cordless phone off the desk and punched in the number she knew by heart.

“Hello?”

“Laurie. It’s me.”

“I was just about to call you. I’ve got great news. I just got off the phone with—”

“We need to cancel that article in People magazine. They can’t run it.”

“Cancel?” Laurie scoffed into the phone. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No.”

“Are you drinking?”

“No.” Holly’s gaze fell to the glass of wine on the desk. “Well, yes, but not like that.”

“Why on earth would you want to cancel? This is the kind of publicity most authors would kill for. Aside from Stephen King, you’re the only author I know of to get a feature article like this.”

“They can’t run it. What if Jared reads it and sees where I live?

” Holly stood, pacing the small space between the desk and the kitchen.

She should never have let Laurie talk her into allowing People to take her photo inside her houseboat for the feature article.

At the time, they both thought Jared would remain behind bars for another three years, but she should have been thinking about the future.

“It’s too late, I’m afraid. It came out today. I slipped a copy into your bag at the bookstore, remember?”

Holly didn’t. She’d been too preoccupied by the news of Jared’s release.

“Shit.” Holly moved to the couch and felt inside the messenger bag.

She withdrew the March issue of People , recognizing the Menendez brothers on the cover, who’d been shockingly arrested for their parents’ slaying earlier that month.

Murder in Beverly Hills was printed in bold yellow letters above a photo of the Menendez family mansion.

Holly’s heart sank at the smaller headline in the upper right corner: “Holly Sparks: Making Waves on a Seattle Houseboat.”

“No, no, no.” Holly cradled the phone with her shoulder as she flipped past the featured article showing a Menendez family photo beside an image of the two brothers sitting in a courtroom as they were arraigned for their parents’ brutal murder.

Once she’d thumbed to the right page, her mouth fell open at the full-page image of her Lake Union houseboat’s exterior with Gas Works Park visible across the water.

Anyone familiar with Seattle could figure out the location of her houseboat.

Holly gritted her teeth at the title: “CRIME ON THE WATER: Lake Union Houseboat Author Makes a Killing.”

“Did you find it?” Laurie asked. “It’s a great piece, right? We couldn’t have timed it better with those Menendez brothers on the front.”

“I didn’t say they could photograph the outside of my houseboat.”

“I know, but—”

“Laurie, this is my life. ” Holly tossed the magazine onto the couch. “I can’t stay here. As soon as Jared gets in line at a supermarket, he’ll know exactly where I live.”

“I get it, but that was what, five years ago? Don’t you think the guy’s gotten over it by now? If he got an early release, maybe he’s reformed.”

Holly breathed into the phone. Laurie didn’t get it at all. “Have you even read any of my books? Jared’s had five years to stew over my testimony, which sent him to prison.” Laurie hadn’t seen the way Jared looked at her in the courtroom. “Trust me, he hasn’t gotten over it.”

“Okay. I hear you. I’m flying to LA tomorrow, but I can help you start looking for a place on Saturday.”

“I can’t wait that long.” Holly turned toward the window. Dusk had settled over the gray sky, which was growing dark nearly as fast as her apprehension.

“You’re welcome to stay here with Ken and the girls while I’m away.”

Holly imagined trying to write at Laurie’s kitchen table in the suburbs, Roxy Vega’s crime scene photos splayed over the table for Laurie’s four-year-old twins to see.

Plus, Laurie’s name was listed in the magazine article too.

Unlike Holly’s address, Laurie’s was listed in the White Pages.

But Holly didn’t want to scare her by saying so.

“That’s okay. I’ll get a hotel until we find something.” Holly looked at the computer monitor, envisioning herself lugging it to a hotel room. But what choice did she have? “Thanks though.”

“Oh, wait!” Laurie exclaimed when Holly was about to hang up.

“I just remembered. Ken’s parents just moved out of their house in Tacoma.

They’re downsizing to a condo and planning to rent out their house after they get rid of their extra furniture.

I’m sure you could stay there. That way there wouldn’t even be a paper trail. You know…just in case.”

Holly swallowed. Just in case Jared tries to kill me. She peered out the window, checking for movement on the dock. Around the edges of the shore, houseboats and buildings glowed softly as night fell over the city.

“It’s a big house. Four bedrooms. Plenty of room to write.”

Holly looked at the magazine on the couch. “All right. Thanks, Laurie.”

“I’ll call them tonight.”

Holly hung up and returned to her seat in front of the desk. The lake had gone quiet, aside from the water lapping against the side of the houseboat and the soft jazz playing from her next-door floating neighbor. She finished the wine in her glass.

She wasn’t going to let him get to her tonight. He’d already upended her life once. She had work to do. She had neighboring houseboats within a few feet on either side. I could easily call for help if I needed to . They would hear her scream if Jared tried to break in.

But it didn’t make her feel any better. She’d lived in an apartment the night he’d tried to kill her, and sharing a wall with another unit hadn’t stopped him. Wishing she had a gun, she forced her thoughts to her interview with Roxy Vega’s mother.

Holly yawned despite being wired from the news of Jared’s release.

The two cups of coffee she’d drunk before opening a bottle of wine hadn’t helped much.

She forced herself to painstakingly finish the chapter before she allowed herself to check the time.

It was after eleven, which meant it had taken her twice as long to write the remaining five pages as it normally did.

She got up and stretched her arms over her head.

Sometime in the last few hours, the neighbor’s music had turned off.

As she went to double check that the front door was locked, her gaze landed on the grim-faced Menendez brothers pictured on the cover of People, the magazine still lying on the couch.

A shiver ran through her thinking of their parents, murdered by their sons in their mansion in Beverly Hills, which was thought to be the safest place in the country.

Holly wondered what it had been like for their parents, falling asleep on their couch watching TV, only to be awakened by their sons standing over them, the blast from the shotgun barrels stealing the parents from their slumber.

Assured her deadbolt was locked, Holly made for her upstairs bedroom, gripping the cordless phone in her hand. She started up the stairs, then stopped and retreated toward the kitchen.

If there was one thing she’d learned from writing true crime, it was that the victims who weren’t afraid to fight back, scream, or run were the ones who most often got away from a dangerous predator.

Holly withdrew her sharpest knife from the butcher block on the counter and turned back for the stairs.

If Jared did come for her, she wasn’t going down without a fight.