Page 24 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)
HOLLY
W hen Holly entered the King County Major Crimes Unit, a young blond woman Holly didn’t recognize looked up from behind the front desk. “Can I help you?”
“Is Detective Andy Harris here?”
“He is.” The secretary flicked her gaze to Andy’s office door, now farther down the hall than it used to be. “Can I ask your name?” The blond regarded Holly warily.
Holly looked down at her Levi’s and hooded sweatshirt. She hadn’t wasted any time worrying about her appearance after hanging up with Laurie.
“I’m Holly. Holly Sparks. He’ll know who I am. Can you tell him I’m here?”
The woman straightened. “Holly Sparks, like the author?”
“Yes.” Holly leaned forward to peer inside the open door to Andy’s office.
The secretary’s blue eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh.” She stood, flashing Holly a broad smile. “I’m Tara. I’m a huge fan of your books.” Still smiling, she smoothed the front of her sweater.
“Oh, thanks.” Holly forced herself to return the woman’s smile as she spotted Andy’s white hair inside his office. He was bent over his desk filling out paperwork.
Tara followed Holly’s gaze. “I’ll go see if he’s available.”
Holly exhaled as Tara turned down the hallway, relieved she wasn’t going to start chattering about Holly’s books. Andy needed to know about last night.
“He says to go on in.” Tara stepped to the side of Andy’s office door.
“Thanks.”
“So nice to meet you,” Tara gushed as Holly stepped through the doorway into the space Andy now had all to himself.
Holly nodded politely. “Likewise.”
“Hey, Holly.” Andy leaned back in his chair and intertwined his long fingers atop his head.
From the dark circles beneath his bloodshot eyes, Holly guessed he hadn’t slept much more than she had last night, if at all.
“I got your voice message a little while ago. Everything okay?”
Holly shook her head. She hadn’t told him anything about last night in her voicemail, only asked Andy to call her.
Andy motioned to one of the two padded folding chairs opposite his desk. “Sit down.”
Holly plopped onto the one closest to the door.
“Sorry I hadn’t called you back yet,” Andy said. “The last twenty-four hours have been pretty nuts.” His eyes appraised hers. “Everything okay?”
“No.” She cleared her throat.
He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to elaborate.
Her heart hammered against her chest as she recalled the figure creeping toward her last night in the parking lot.
She swallowed. “It’s Jared.”
Andy’s eyes widened in alarm. “What happened? Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head and pulled the envelope containing the threatening poem from her purse, unfolding the typed paper on Andy’s desk. “No, but I got this. It was sent to my PO Box where I get fan mail. There was no return address, but it has to be from Jared.”
Andy dropped his gaze to the poem and pulled a pair of reading glasses from his pocket. He looked up after reading the poem. “You’ve gotten hate mail before, haven’t you? Weren’t you telling me last summer that you got a slew of nasty letters from some woman in Nebraska?”
“Well, yes.” Holly crossed her legs, trying to mask her frustration. How can he not see this is from Jared? “But that was different. She was the aunt of a convicted killer I’d written about. She didn’t try to hide who she was. And they weren’t vague threats like this.”
“Okay. I can have this dusted for prints.”
Relieved, Holly sat back against her seat. “Thank you.”
“If you get another letter like this, try not to touch it and put it in a Ziploc.”
She berated herself for getting her fingerprints all over it.
She should’ve known that from all her true crime writing, but she’d been too rattled to think clearly.
“And Andy, last night”—she dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap— “I went to Albertson’s—that same Albertson’s where that hairdresser from Tacoma was last seen at the bus stop. You know, the one who’s gone missing?”
He nodded.
“And a car followed me to my parking spot. Then it stopped, blocking my path. A man got out of the car and came toward me until I locked myself inside and drove away.”
Andy brought a hand to his chin. “Did you see his face?”
She met his gaze. “No. But I’m sure it was Jared. He was stalking me.”
“Did he follow you after you drove away?”
“No, that’s what I’m saying. It was just before 9:00 p.m. I think he killed that woman. I think he could be The Bus Stop Killer.”
Andy’s gaze drifted toward the office window. He stared pensively at the darkness beyond it. She’d known Andy long enough to know that he was debating how to answer her.
“We’ve talked about this before. There is no Bus Stop Killer. Plus, it couldn’t have been Jared,” he finally said. “He has an alibi for last night.”
Holly stiffened in her chair. “How do you know that?”
Andy got up and closed his office door. “Last night, I had someone sitting on the house where Jared is living—plainclothes, unmarked car,” he said on his way back to the desk. “Jared is staying with an old informant of his from his time in the Narcotics Unit.”
“I remember Jared talking about him once. Tommy something, right?”
Andy nodded. “Tommy Reed. Another low life. So, it doesn’t surprise me they’re still friends.
Anyway, my surveillance detective got pulled before midnight for a big narcotics operation that’s carrying out a bunch of search warrants in multiple houses across King County.
But he was watching the house from about 5:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. There were two men inside, and one looked to be Jared.
And he didn’t see anyone come or go.” After sitting, Andy rolled his chair toward his desk.
The short surveillance on Jared’s residence did nothing to convince Holly of Jared’s innocence. He could’ve left the house before five and not got home until after ten.
“The man in the parking lot last night, did you see his face?” Andy asked.
“No, it was too dark.”
Andy folded his hands on the desk. “Then how do you know it was him?”
Holly sighed. “I—I don’t know. Just a feeling, I guess.
” She locked eyes with Andy, realizing how stupid she must sound.
“Wait.” She put up a palm, confused. “Why did you have an undercover watching Jared?” Fear wound around her lungs like a vine.
Was Andy so worried Jared would come after her that he deemed around-the-clock surveillance necessary?
She wasn’t sure if that reassured or unsettled her.
She knew how rare twenty-four-hour police surveillance was—after all, even Ted Bundy’s watch had been cut short due to budget cuts.
Despite Jared’s history, she was surprised Andy had managed it at all.
Andy withdrew a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket, the same brand he’d smoked for years, and placed one between his lips.
Knowing she didn’t smoke, he returned the pack to his pocket before reaching for the lighter on the desk.
He took a drag before holding the cigarette a few inches from his mouth.
“Before Jared went to prison for what he did to you…” He lowered his voice, glancing at his closed office door. “Jared was a suspect in the Green River Killer murders.”
Holly stared at him in disbelief.
“That’s the real reason Jared was taken off the task force, not because of his temper. Although, that hadn’t helped.”
Her jaw dropped. “But you never…”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but we didn’t know anything for sure.” He gestured to Holly with the hand that held the cigarette. “And then he went to prison.”
Holly stood to pace in the small space as Andy took a long drag of his cigarette. She turned toward him, gripping the back of her chair with both hands, and studied Andy’s expression, realizing why he still suspected her ex-boyfriend of being the most prolific serial killer in American history.
“And the rampage of killings stopped,” she said.
“There have been only a few in the last five years you’ve attributed to being possible victims of the Green River Killer.
Nothing like the fifty plus victims you suspected he murdered between 1982 and 1984.
” She tried to read Andy’s eyes. “You still think it could be Jared?”
He frowned. “I don’t know.”
“What made you suspect him?”
“One of the initial FBI profilers believed the Green River Killer was someone with authority, possibly a cop. Jared had been overly eager to join the task force, and you know better than anyone how volatile his temper could be. In early ’85, a prostitute gave a witness statement saying she saw one of the Green River Killer victims getting into a car matching Jared’s personal vehicle, along with Jared’s description. ”
Holly’s stomach churned. She’d almost married that man.
“Before joining the task force,” Andy continued, “Jared had been visiting one of the body dump sites after victims had been discovered. After that prostitute’s witness statement, I started to wonder if Jared’s interest in the cases could be more personal than professional.”
Holly groaned, tilting her head toward the ceiling. “How is this even possible?” She looked at Andy. “How could you never have told me?”
He blew a puff of smoke out the side of his mouth. “I wanted to be sure before I said anything to you. But there’s something else I never told you. You’re not going to like it, and I don’t want you jumping to any conclusions. But at this point you might as well know.”
Holly stared at him in silence.
Andy dragged his gaze toward the window. “Jared was seen more than once at the strip club where Meg worked.”
Holly stood from her chair. “What?”
Andy put up a hand. “It was after Meg was killed and before the two of you started seeing each other. I have no idea if he ever went there while Meg was working. In fact, I doubt that he did.”
Holly turned away from Andy, her movements stiff as she circled behind her chair before tightening her fingers around its back.
She racked her brain, thinking of all the times she’d mentioned to Jared about Meg working at that seedy strip club.
Never once had he given any indication that he’d been there.
The floor tilted beneath her feet. Had Jared seen Meg working there?
Had he…was it possible… She took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry I never told you.”
Holly’s eyes brimmed with tears when she met Andy’s gaze. “You should have.”
“You’re right. But I’m ninety-nine percent certain that Jared isn’t the guy we’re looking for. Meg worked at that place for, what, only four months? Most likely, she and Jared never crossed paths.” He scratched the back of his head. “Jared’s an asshole, but that doesn’t make him a serial killer.”
“You didn’t see the look in his eyes when he tried to kill me.”
Andy’s expression softened. “I’m not saying he isn’t capable. Just that I don’t think he’s the killer we’re looking for. While Jared’s been in prison, there have been a number of women who’ve gone missing who fit the victimology of the Green River Killer.”
Holly already knew this from Andy keeping her informed of the investigation over the years.
“But they haven’t been found. Without bodies, you have no idea how they were killed.
Some of them might even be alive. Plus, they were all involved in prostitution, which is a high-risk lifestyle on its own.
You’re only assuming they were victims of the Green River Killer.
” Holly lifted a hand to her neck, remembering the feel of Jared’s meaty hands closing around it.
What if Jared was the Bus Stop Killer? There hadn’t been any murders fitting that profile around Seattle since Jared had been locked up.
Andy’s cigarette flared as he took a long pull before stubbing it out on his ashtray. “We don’t know anything for sure.”
“That’s what scares me, Andy.”
His tired eyes met hers. “Me too.”