Page 3 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)
HOLLY
H olly’s headlights swept over the white KOMO-TV news van when she parked her Honda Civic behind an unmarked detective’s car at the trailhead.
Holly scrambled out of her car, notebook and tape recorder in hand.
A bright light shone on Stacey Evans, KOMO’s evening news reporter, illuminating her Madonna-esque blond perm.
Stacey held a microphone and spoke into the camera.
Holly swore under her breath, giving Stacey a wide berth so she wouldn’t appear in the footage. The news channel must’ve gotten the same tip Holly had. So much for a breaking story tomorrow morning.
“An unidentified woman’s body has been discovered in a wooded area in Riverview this evening by a jogger who reported a foul odor near a running trail.
” Stacey’s solemn eyes, highlighted by blue eye shadow, bored into the camera.
“The discovery comes less than two weeks after twenty-year-old waitress Jennifer Duran disappeared from a bus stop after leaving a friend’s home in neighboring Burien. ”
Holly stopped at the sound of the woman’s name.
She’d been covering her disappearance, and on the drive, she’d said a prayer for Jennifer.
Like the rest of the Seattle public, Holly had gotten caught up in Jennifer’s disappearance and had been holding out hope that Jennifer was still alive. But right now, she had a job to do.
While the reporter continued to speculate, Holly strode up the dirt parking area toward the start of the trail, where a stone-faced uniformed officer had been posted beside the crime scene tape.
He didn’t look much older than her. Beyond the officer, several flashlight beams swept the woods, their lights cutting through the dark, dense forest. They were too far away for her to get a glimpse of what they were looking at.
Not recognizing the officer, Holly pulled her laminated press ID out from her blazer.
The officer shone a flashlight on her ID, which also illuminated what looked to be a coffee stain on the front of his blue uniform shirt.
“There’s no press allowed beyond this point,” Officer Coffee Stain said.
“I’m Holly Sparks, primary crime reporter for the Seattle Tribune .” She pointed to the dark-haired homicide sergeant combing the woods behind him who’d likely called in the tip. “We got a tip from Seattle Homicide.”
Officer Coffee Stain glanced over his shoulder. “You still can’t go back there.”
“Could you let him know that I’m here?”
The officer flashed her a look of annoyance before shaking his head.
“Hey, Holly.”
Holly spun. Her pulse surged when she recognized the tall, white-haired detective in a light gray suit striding toward her. His presence could only mean one thing.
“Hi, Andy.”
Detective Andy Harris worked for King County Major Crimes, not Seattle Homicide, investigating serious offenses, including homicides that occurred outside Seattle’s city limits. Like Jared and the sergeant Holly saw coming out of the woods, Andy was also on the Green River Killer task force.
“How you doing?” he asked when he got closer.
She’d met Andy five years ago, before becoming a reporter. He’d introduced himself as the detective assigned to Meg’s murder while Holly sat, red eyed and clutching a tissue in the Major Crimes Unit’s small waiting area—a moment she’d never forget.
“I’m good.” Holly flicked on her tape recorder and held it between their chests. “Do you know who the victim is? I heard Stacey mention Jennifer Duran.”
Andy frowned. He glanced in Stacey’s direction.
“They shouldn’t be speculating anything.
We haven’t given them any inclination it could be Duran, because it’s not.
” He exhaled. “I’m sure we’ll be hearing from Duran’s family now.
I’ll have a talk with her supervisor.” He ran a hand through his white hair.
Holly looked behind her, unable to see anything in the woods besides swaying flashlight beams, which had moved farther away from the trailhead.
“Off the record?” Andy said.
She turned to face him, and he gestured to her tape recorder. She flicked it off.
Andy shot a look at the TV news reporter and lowered his voice.
“It’s hard to tell from the level of decomposition, but the clothes we found near the body match the description of a prostitute who was last seen getting into a car on Aurora Avenue last December.
But until we know for sure, we can’t release anything related to her identity to the public. ”
Holly nodded. “Got it. And you’re thinking the victim could’ve been killed by the Green River Killer? I assume that’s why you’re here.” She didn’t really need to ask—Andy’s presence meant that they did. But she hoped he might tell her more.
He put his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s too soon to say anything definitively. But most likely, yes.”
“Cause of death?”
“Again, we won’t know definitively until the autopsy. Despite the cold temperatures, the body has significant decomposition. But, off the record…”
“Of course.”
“Her lack of any apparent major injuries makes it very possible she was strangled.”
She studied Andy’s eyes from the glow of a patrol car’s headlights behind him. Without flicking on the tape recorder, she asked, “Do you know anything else?”
Andy folded his arms, lifting his gaze to the trail behind her. “Off the record, there is one thing that doesn’t quite fit with the Green River Killer’s previous murders.”
Holly’s heart skipped a beat. “What’s that?”
“There are a few barefooted footprints near where her body was found, and her clothing was strewn around the woods nearby. It appears the victim was killed in these woods, not moved here after she died.”
Holly’s breath stuck in her lungs. Just like Meg. Meg was found partially hidden under an overgrown hedge, with evidence of a struggle around her.
“She also looks to have more defensive wounds than many of the suspected Green River Killer victims,” he added. “But most likely she was just the first to put up a good fight. And her killing didn’t quite go to plan.”
“You said someone saw the victim getting into a car on Aurora Avenue. Do you know what kind of car it was?”
Andy pressed his lips together as if debating whether to answer. “It was a blue car, small, four-door, driven by a brown- haired, middle-aged man—with a child, a boy, in the backseat. However, the witness was a prostitute, and she was high at the time.”
Holly’s eyes widened, first from the mention of the blue car, then imagining a child witnessing their father brutally murder a prostitute from the backseat. Thinking of her nephew, out there somewhere being raised by strangers, caused a shiver to creep down the back of her neck.
“Do you have any idea who the driver might’ve been?”
Andy shook his head. “We did have a suspect, Gary Ridgway, who has brown hair and also has a young son, but he passed a polygraph last year. He also drives a maroon pickup, not a blue car. So, to answer your question, no. Nothing credible.”
Holly turned to look beyond the crime scene tape and imagined Meg’s killer chasing this woman through these woods after she escaped from his car.
“Hey. I know it’s probably not my place,” Andy said, “but I think you should tread lightly with Jared.”
Holly whirled around at Andy’s statement, jarred by the change of subject. She studied Andy’s expression and sensed a fatherly protectiveness in eyes. “What do you mean?”
“He can be a real loose cannon sometimes,” Andy said. “I’ve seen him lose his temper more than once, and it’s not pretty.”
Holly frowned, unsure of how to respond.
Jared’s words from earlier still stung, and she was considering breaking off their engagement, or at least postponing any wedding planning until she made sure his behavior earlier that night was a one-off.
She and Andy had become friends over the years, but it didn’t feel right to tell him about her doubts before she told Jared.
Especially when the two of them would see each other at work tomorrow.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll keep that in mind. ”
“Sorry.” His expression softened. “It’s none of my business. It’s just—"
“Hey, Detective!” a female voice called from the woods. “You might wanna see this.”
“I gotta go.” Andy patted her shoulder as he moved past. “That’s probably all I can give you tonight.”
Holly watched him go, letting Andy’s comment about Jared slip from her mind as she mentally replayed what Andy said about the victim being picked up in a blue car, then killed in these woods, rather than her body dumped here postmortem.
Holly stared at the crime scene tape as Andy stepped over it. She was more certain than ever that the Green River Killer killed Meg. She could feel it: whoever killed this woman also killed her sister.