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Page 28 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)

HOLLY

“ C ream or sugar?” Holly asked.

Clint, standing on the other side of the kitchen island, shook his head. “No, thanks.”

Holly handed him a mug of freshly brewed coffee before pouring creamer into her own. “Want to sit in the living room?”

“Sure.” He followed her through to the front of the house.

Holly moved the blanket to the side of the couch and took a seat. Instead of opting for the armchair, Clint settled in beside her. He turned toward her with a look of concern in his eyes.

“Do the police know who ran you off the bridge last night?”

Holly imagined Jared’s face, twisted in rage behind the wheel as he rammed his car into hers. She shook her head. “Not yet.”

He put a hand on her knee. “Sorry, we don’t have to talk about it.”

His palm felt warm through her jeans. She met his gaze, and he pulled it away.

“I won’t stay long,” he said, lifting the mug to his lips. After taking a sip, he added, “I know you’ve got work to do, and my son is getting a ride home soon from baseball practice. I told him I’d be home when he got back.”

She hadn’t realized he had a son. Laurie hadn’t mentioned it, and she hadn’t seen anyone other than Clint at his house. Although, she’d been living next door for only a few days. He’d probably been at school. Or even at his mom’s house. “How old is he?”

Clint sighed. “Fifteen. Going on twenty-one.”

“I have a nephew close to that age. Well, sort of. He’s eleven.”

“Ah.” Clint shifted in his seat to face her. “So, you’ll know soon how teenage boys can be. It’s a handful.”

Holly opened her mouth to say she’d never met him but thought twice, knowing it would lead to her sharing what was probably too much information for a first date. That’s not what this. He’s only here because Laurie asked him to come.

“What’s your son like?” she asked before taking a drink from her coffee.

“He’s a typical teenager. Dying to get his driver’s license even though he doesn’t turn sixteen until next year. The other night, I caught him sneaking out with my car. Needless to say, he’s grounded this weekend.”

Holly studied him as his gaze fell to his mug.

“It can’t be easy being a single parent,” she said.

Clint looked up, shaking his head. “Not always, but he’s a good kid. He normally doesn’t get into much trouble. He’s a big reader and loves true crime. In fact, he’s a big fan of your books.”

“Really?” She felt flattered and surprised that her books would spark the interest of a fifteen-year-old boy. Most of her readers were much older.

Clint nodded.

“Well, tell him thank you. I have a copy of In Cold Blood , the first ever true crime novel, upstairs. He’s welcome to borrow it if he hasn’t read it.” She smiled. “That is, if you’re okay with him reading while he’s grounded.”

“I’ll tell him, thanks. He loves English.” Clint lifted his mug. “Although, I keep telling him that an English degree isn’t going to pay the bills.” His face faltered. “No offense, you probably have one. And if you do, don’t tell him or he might stop believing I know everything.” Clint winked.

Holly laughed. “I switched my major from English to journalism partway through college, so no offense taken.”

Clint lowered the mug to his lap and stared pensively at a painting of Mount Rainier hanging on the wall. “What got you interested in true crime?”

Holly opened her mouth to tell him about Meg when the sputter of an engine sounded down their cul-de-sac. Clint stood and cracked open the curtains. Holly followed his gaze, seeing a green Bronco pull into Clint’s driveway.

“Sorry.” He turned. “That’s my son getting dropped off. I better go so he doesn’t wonder where I am.”

Holly followed him to the kitchen after he insisted on taking his mug to the sink. “Thanks for the coffee,” he said after putting on his shoes.

“Anytime.”

Clint stood in the entryway for a lingering moment, making her wonder if he was going to kiss her before he reached for the door.

“Oh.” He turned around after stepping outside. “I’ll tell my son about borrowing that book. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”

“Great.” Holly returned his smile before he hurried down the porch steps, feeling stupid for thinking a completely ordinary pause was something romantic.

She blew out a breath after closing the door, placing her palms against her temples as she climbed the stairs. It was time to stop thinking about her own life and focus on Roxy Vega’s, who—like Meg—could no longer speak for herself.

Halfway up the staircase, the phone rang in the kitchen. Holly thought about letting it ring, but it was probably Laurie, and if she didn’t answer it, Laurie would drive over to make sure she was okay. And Holly didn’t want any interruptions once she finally immersed herself in work.

She trudged down the stairs, planning what she would say to her publicist slash overly concerned friend. Laurie needed to stop asking Clint to check on her. Not that she minded her handsome neighbor coming over, but it should be on his own terms, not because Laurie asked him to.

The phone was still ringing when she reached the kitchen, where the smell of coffee lingered in the air. Holly pulled the receiver off the wall, glancing at Clint’s house through the side window and seeing the Bronco back out of Clint’s drive. Clint and his son must’ve already gone inside.

“Hello?”

“Holly, it’s me.”

Andy. Her pulse quickened.

“I went to see Jared earlier with Detective O’Malley, who took down your report, and thought you should know what we learned.”

She swallowed, bracing herself for him to tell her Jared was in custody for trying to kill her a second time. “Okay.”

“Jared and his roommate have an alibi for last night, and it’s stronger than their alibi from the night before.

They said they were at a bar downtown watching the Mariners opening game only a few blocks from the Major Crimes Unit, from about 6:00 p.m. to 10:30 p.m. They both have receipts for a few beers timestamped to match what they told us.

“Jared’s roommate drives a dark gray Toyota Camry, which I checked for damage while we were there. I didn’t see any. Jared, however, owns a black Ford Escort that he had put in storage when he went to prison.”

A flush of heat crept up her neck. That had to be the car that ran me off the bridge last night.

“But it wasn’t at the house. According to Jared, he hasn’t driven it since getting out. His driver’s license expired while he was in prison, and Jared claimed he’s working to get his license and registration renewed before driving it again.”

Holly pressed her arm against the wall and cradled her forehead in the crook of her elbow. It had to have been Jared last night. “Wait. Can’t you get a warrant for wherever Jared is keeping the car? It has to be damaged from hitting my car last night—that’s why he’s hiding it.”

Andy breathed into the line. “It depends.”

Holly noted the tiredness in Andy’s voice, just as she’d seen in his eyes yesterday.

“First, we need to verify Jared’s alibi with more than just a receipt.

I went to the bar to see if any of the bartenders could verify Jared’s statement, but the guy working last night called out sick today.

I just got a lead on my double homicide, so I gave Detective O’Malley the bartender’s home address so he can speak to him.

Since your case isn’t technically my jurisdiction, it’ll be better if he follows up anyway, in case this goes to trial. But I asked him to keep you informed.”

Holly turned and sank against the wall. “It was Jared, Andy. It had to be him.”

“I’m suspicious of Jared too. But if Jared’s alibi checks out, then we won’t have enough probable cause for a warrant.

That’s why I asked O’Malley to speak to the bartender.

If the bartender can’t verify that Jared was at the bar during the time of your accident, then yes, I think he’d have enough cause to search Jared’s vehicle.

But if he can…we have to consider that Jared wasn’t the one who did this to you last night. ”

Holly wound the phone cord around her finger.

“Okay,” she said, feeling only slightly reassured.

Jared couldn’t have been at the bar when her car went over the bridge.

What if the bartender just thinks he was?

If Jared went there before and after, how could the bartender really be sure? Especially if the place was busy.

The skin on her arms prickled. That would leave Jared free to come after her again.

Before Jared worked for King County Major Crimes, he was a detective on the Narcotics Unit and often worked undercover.

She remembered Jared telling her once that he had some friends in low places who owed him favors.

He might’ve also made some new ones in prison.

What if this bartender is one of them? What if that’s why Jared went there, knowing he would vouch for him being there all night?

“How are you feeling, by the way?” Andy asked.

She bit her lip, imagining what Jared had planned for her next.

“Holly? Are you feeling okay?”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m um. Better. Thanks,” she lied.

“Good. Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll talk to you soon. Get some rest.”

“Thanks for calling, Andy.”

She heard the edge of fatigue in his voice and knew he probably hadn’t gotten any sleep last night after coming to the hospital and helping take down her report. Holly replaced the receiver after Andy hung up.

She went to pour another cup of coffee, thinking about Jared’s alibis for the last two nights.

When Detective O’Malley had taken her report last night in the ER, she couldn’t be certain the car that had driven her off the bridge was the same car she’d seen in the Albertson’s parking lot the night before, only that they were both sedans.

She was sure the car that ran her off the bridge had been black, but it had been too dark in the Albertson’s parking lot for her to make out the exact color of the car that stalked her.

Andy’s words replayed in her mind. We have to consider that Jared wasn’t the one who did this to you last night.

She refilled her mug and noticed her hand trembling.

What if Jared was telling the truth? She replaced the carafe and pressed her palms against the counter.

The thought that Jared might be innocent clawed at her, unsettling in a way she hadn’t expected. I should be relieved if it wasn’t him.

But if Jared didn’t drive her off the bridge, then who did?

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