Page 20 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)

HOLLY

“ T hink this will work?” Laurie stepped back from the desk where they’d set up Holly’s computer in Laurie’s in-laws’ home office.

Holly knelt over a plastic tub and peered inside.

She traced a finger around the edge of the shoebox her sister, had left behind at the group home, staring at its contents: a cheap bracelet Holly gave Meg for her tenth birthday, an AC/DC cassette tape, a movie stub from Caddyshack , and the sealed adoption contract Meg had signed six months before her murder.

The box was a poor stand-in for the warmth of her sister’s voice and the comfort of her laugh, but it was all Holly had left. Even though her stay was temporary, leaving Meg’s things at her houseboat felt wrong, like she was abandoning her sister all over again.

Holly stood and stuck her hands in the jeans’ pockets as she gazed out at the top of the Narrows Bridge, visible through the upstairs window through the tall evergreen woods that separated the neighborhood from the Sound.

As dusk deepened, the bridge shimmered to life, its lights piercing the twilight sky.

“It’ll be great.” The neighborhood was nice, more upscale than what Holly had pictured.

When she’d followed Laurie to the home at the end of a cul-de-sac earlier that day with her Honda Civic packed with clothes and all she’d need to finish her true crime novel, Holly felt at ease seeing the manicured yards and large two-story homes that looked to all have been built in the last decade.

She hadn’t expected to have a view of the Narrows Bridge from her office window.

But Holly missed her houseboat already; it felt strange to be in such a big house compared to her small place on Lake Union.

“Need any more help?” Laurie asked, glancing at the two boxes on the floor.

Laurie had spent the last several hours helping Holly move her clothes, computer, and boxes of notes into the upstairs of the large suburban home.

“I’m good.”

Holly followed Laurie’s gaze to the boxes filled with marked-up maps of King County—each X the location of a body that had been discovered, the suspected victims of the Green River Killer.

Under the maps lay piles of newspaper clippings and Holly’s ever-growing list of young women who’d gone missing in the Seattle area, along with her shorter list of suspected Bus Stop Killer victims, which included Meg.

She planned to put them on the office wall out of habit since she’d never written without having them nearby.

She’d always hoped that by keeping them up, something might come to her in her subconscious as she worked.

“I think my in-laws have an old bulletin board in the garage,” Laurie said. “You want me to get it so you can hang some of this stuff up?”

Holly tore her gaze from the boxes and managed a smile. “I can find it later. You’ve done so much already.”

She’d wait until Laurie left to unpack those.

Her publicist had voiced on more than one occasion that she worried Holly’s fixation on her sister’s unsolved murder was excessive, and those of the Green River Killer.

Laurie didn’t know the half of it. She’d never told Laurie about her growing theory there was a second serial killer at large around Seattle, The Bus Stop Killer, and that he’d killed Meg and a handful of others.

“Well, in that case, I’d better go,” Laurie said. “I promised Ken I’d be home to help with dinner and bedtime with the girls.”

Laurie swept her teased bangs to the side, blending them in with her feathered strawberry blond hair. She cast Holly a motherly look, even though they were less than ten years apart. “You going to be okay here?”

Holly wondered if Jared could’ve been lurking in the parking area to her houseboat and had followed them here.

She imagined him breaking a window in the night, wrapping his thick fingers around her neck as she slept.

She envisioned waking up in a strange bed, Jared looming over with the same crazed look in his eyes that he had when he—

“Holly. Hello?” Laurie snapped her fingers. “You need anything else before I go home?”

Holly blinked the thoughts away and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get back to work.” And get my mind off Jared.

Laurie crossed her arms. “You seemed like you were somewhere else there a moment.”

Holly shrugged. “Just the creative mind, I guess.”

Laurie furrowed her brows, looking skeptical as Holly glanced at the night falling outside the window.

She hadn’t written anything today. Her literary agent had called this morning letting Holly know that her publisher had agreed to an extension.

Holly was meant to send in her manuscript this Friday, but they’d given her two more weeks.

She needed at least double that, but she would take what she could get.

Holly turned to the desk, where the pile of notes, Roxy Vega’s thick casefile, and her tape recorder filled with hours of interviews lay beside her keyboard. It was going to be a late night.

“Thanks for all your help today,” Holly said as the two of them made for the staircase.

As Holly had lugged her computer monitor and hard drive up the strangers’ staircase earlier that day, she couldn’t help feeling she’d overreacted. Maybe Laurie had been right, and Jared was reformed.

“And please thank your in-laws for letting me move in on such short notice,” Holly added as she followed Laurie down the carpeted stairs.

“They were happy to help.” When Laurie reached the bottom of the staircase, she turned toward her.

“My mother-in-law is a huge fan of yours. She’s read all your books and was thrilled to know you’d be staying here.

” Laurie cocked her head and placed a hand on Holly’s forearm.

“A little too thrilled, if you ask me. You might need to worry about her stalking you now and not just Jared.”

Laurie laughed. Holly frowned.

“Sorry.” Laurie shook her head. “I was just trying to be funny. But seriously, she wanted to come over and show you the house, but I told her we would be fine by ourselves. Trust me, you’d never get her to leave.

She would’ve yacked all night about your books, and I know you’re on a deadline.

But after you turn in this new book, she would love to meet you. ”

“I’d love to meet her too.” After hugging Laurie, Holly opened the front door. “Give my love to Ken and the girls.”

“I will. I put the garage door opener on the kitchen counter, and I dropped the house keys into your purse.”

“Thanks.”

Laurie pulled the hood of her sweatshirt over her head as she stepped onto the porch. “One more thing. The phone is in the kitchen, and it’s on a party line.”

“Those still exist?”

Laurie laughed. “This cul-de-sac is miserly and stuck in the seventies.” She lifted a finger in the air as she started down the porch steps.

“So, watch out. If you pick up the phone at the wrong time, you’ll be stuck listening to Carol from two houses down rehashing the latest Murder, She Wrote to her sister. ”

Holly smiled. “Good to know.”

“Oh.” Laurie spun around as Holly started to shut the door.

“I almost forgot. I told the next-door neighbor, Clint, that you’re moving in so he doesn’t think you’re squatting here or anything.

” She winked and pointed to the house on her left.

“If you need anything, I’m sure he’d be happy to give you a hand. ” She grinned. “He’s also single.”

Holly rolled her eyes. She’d hardly dated after everything that happened with Jared. Instead, she’d buried herself in her work. “I’m perfectly capable of living on my own without needing a man’s help. ”

Laurie put up a palm. “Look, I’m just saying, it wouldn’t hurt you to have a man around for a change.”

Holly let out the closest thing to a laugh she’d experienced since learning of Jared’s release. “I hate to break it to you, but you might be more stuck in the 70s than this cul-de-sac.”

Laurie’s brick-red lipsticked mouth curled to a smile. “You might change your mind after you meet him. He’s very easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks for sharing, but now let me get back to work.”

“Hey.” Laurie stepped back toward the door before Holly could close it.

She placed a manicured hand over her chest. “As your publicist, I’m in no spot to complain about you working so hard—and I know you’re on a tight deadline.

” Laurie met Holly’s gaze, the usual spark in the publicist’s eyes dimming to a quiet intensity.

“But as your friend, just remember, you need to go out once in a while. You’re thirty-one years old, beautiful, with no responsibilities of motherhood or marriage holding you back.

” Laurie dipped her head. “I worry about you sometimes, always cooped up with morbid crime scene photos. I probably shouldn’t say this, but…

trust me.” Laurie lifted her gaze to lock eyes with Holly.

“There’s more to life than work. Meg would’ve wanted that for you.

To move on, have a life, maybe even a family one day. ”

Holly opened her mouth to tell Laurie that her work was her life, but Laurie held up a hand again.

“I know you’re on a deadline,” Laurie added. “But once you’re done, you should go on a vacation.”

“I’ll think about it.”

In the glow of the front porch lights, Laurie flashed Holly a knowing side glance. “No, you won’t. I’ve seen that look before. But when you’re old and alone, wishing you had someone to spend your lonely days with, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Unless I’m dead, I’ll still be writing books.” Holly smiled. “Plus, I have you.”

Laurie pursed her lips and started down the concrete porch steps. “That’s depressing.”

“Is it? I think it sounds wonderful.”

“You’re weird,” Laurie called when she reached her minivan. “Oh,” she added after opening the driver’s side door. “I picked up your fan mail from your PO Box this morning like you asked. It’s in the kitchen.”

Holly knew she should be thankful—the letters were proof that her books mattered to someone—but the thought of that stack of envelopes on the kitchen counter sent a sharp pang of anxiety through her chest. Years ago, she’d promised herself to respond to every letter she got from her readers unless it was hate mail, which she’d gotten her share of too.

But right now, fan mail was one more demand when she had no time to spare. “Thanks, Laur.”

After locking the deadbolt behind her, Holly leaned against the door. Being alone forever didn’t scare her. She’d already lost the most important person in her life. What did scare her was Meg’s killer walking free forever.

Holly trudged into the kitchen and immediately spotted the unopened envelopes on the counter. Seeing the stack wasn’t as high as she’d feared, her shoulders relaxed. She sifted through them. There were only eight.

I’ll open half tonight and half tomorrow. Then I’ll respond after I mail in my manuscript. Sometimes, getting an encouraging note from a reader helped her get out of a writing slump—something she could use tonight.

She tore open the top envelope, noting her name and address were typed instead of handwritten. There was no return address in sight. She unfolded the paper inside, letting it fall to the counter after she read the short, typed poem.

Roses are red and violets are blue,

Your stories are thrilling, but I’m watching you.