Page 37 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)
HOLLY
H olly sat forward in her chair, leaning closer to the microfilm reader. Finally. She’d found what she was looking for. TACOMA MOTHER DEAD AFTER LEAPING FROM BALCONY.
Holly was only partly conscious of folding a stick of gum into her mouth as she zoomed in on the article.
The house pictured at the top was a different color, but there was no mistaking it—same faux rock on the base of the siding, same picture window above the garage, and same emerald hedges lining the driveway that Clint kept immaculately pruned.
She’d just read the article’s first line when a clatter cut through the quiet library. Holly whirled toward the noise. Her shoulders relaxed when she spotted a young mother bending down to help her small boy pick up the array of children’s books scattered across the tile floor.
Holly returned her attention to the microfilm reader and twisted the knob beneath the screen to enlarge The Tacoma Times article. Holly read it as quickly as her eyes allowed, her focus intent on the screen as she absent-mindedly chewed her gum.
The body of a twenty-nine-year-old wife and mother was discovered in the early hours of January 18 by her husband on their concrete patio after she presumably leapt from their third-story balcony above. She was pronounced dead at the scene.
A suicide note was found at the home, and police are treating her death as a suicide. According to her husband, she had never gotten over her ‘baby blues’. He’d been encouraging her to seek help for her depression and reported that she’d been drinking heavily in the months leading up to her death.
Her husband told police that he’d heard her opening a bottle of wine before he went to bed and believes she jumped from the third-story balcony at some point during the night.
Behind her, Holly heard the squeak of sneakers on the tile floor. She spun around, envisioning Jared creeping up behind her before wrapping his hands around her throat, squeezing it shut before she could make a sound.
But there was no one there, at least not that she could see through the rows of bookshelves behind where she sat. Holly exhaled. It’s just someone looking at books .
Holly turned around and finished reading the article. An investigation into her death is still ongoing.
Holly blew a bubble with her gum as she stared at the article.
There wasn’t as much information as she’d hoped.
If there had been an investigation into Diana’s death, there had to have been an autopsy.
Holly ejected the microfilm from the reading machine and returned it to the index aisle before retrieving another stack of microfilm from later issues of The Tacoma Times in 1982.
Holly stifled a yawn when she finally found a second article about Diana’s death, published five weeks later.
TACOMA WOMAN’S DEATH RULED A SUICIDE AFTER JUMP FROM BALCONY.
A Pierce County medical examiner has confirmed the manner of Diana Carter’s death a suicide after conducting an autopsy and toxicology—
The library lights flicked off. Holly looked around as they turned back on, then glanced at her watch, frozen at 9:45 with condensation trapped beneath the crystal.
That must’ve been the time she went into the Green River.
She leaned back in her chair, craning her neck to read the large, two-hand clock on the wall above the front desk.
6:55. She’d been here all day. It was only now that she registered the hunger pang in the pit of her stomach.
“Ma’am.”
Holly turned to see a gray-haired woman wearing a no-nonsense expression standing beside her.
“We close in five minutes.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll finish up.” Holly hit print on the article and retrieved it from the library’s printer before returning the microfilm to the index aisle.
It was dark when she walked through the library parking lot, empty aside from Laurie’s station wagon and a white Jeep, which must have belonged to the librarian.
Holly quickened her pace as she withdrew Laurie’s keys from her jeans pocket, thinking about her purse at the bottom of the Green River.
Her only consolation was that she didn’t have to rummage through it for her keys.
Once safely inside Laurie’s car, Holly locked the driver’s door and flipped on the dome light to read the rest of the article.
A toxicology report confirmed Diana had alcohol in her system and that her broken neck and head injuries were consistent with a three-story fall onto the concrete.
That, along with the suicide note found the morning of her death, contributed to the medical examiner’s ruling.
The article concluded with a statement that Diana was survived by her husband and seven-year-old son.
Holly tossed the article onto the passenger seat before starting the car’s engine, berating herself for letting her curiosity get the better of her.
She’d wasted the whole day on a wild goose chase over an innocent man who wasn’t even interested in her.
And she was no closer to meeting her deadline than she had been this morning.
“Shit.”
As she drove, she strained to refocus her thoughts on Roxy Vega, trying to imagine what the punk rock singer had gone through after leaving the bar that fatal night. It wasn’t until Holly turned onto the two-lane road that led to her neighborhood that she became aware of the headlights tailing her.
She gripped the wheel tighter as she stared into the glare in the rearview mirror. Her chest tightened, sending each frantic beat climbing into her throat as she forced her attention back to the road. Jared.
The car trailed her as she turned into the entrance to her neighborhood, coming to a stop behind her when she braked for the gate.
Holly felt to make sure her door was locked, keeping her eyes trained on the headlights shining into her mirror as she lowered her window to punch in the gate code with shaking fingers.
Her pulse throbbed in her ears as she willed the gate to open faster. She beat her palm against the steering wheel after rolling up the window. Come on, come on. Holly floored the gas as soon as she had enough space to squeeze through, the headlights behind her following close behind.
The car was still tailing her when she turned into her cul-de-sac.
Seeing Clint’s house, she debated whether to pull into his drive, wondering if she could make it to Clint’s front door before Jared jumped out and attacked her—or worse.
When she neared Clint’s house, she slowed, about to turn up his driveway, when the car behind her pulled alongside her passenger window.
Her jaw fell open. It was a Tacoma police cruiser. She’d been sure it was Jared. The officer rolled down his window.
“Everything okay, ma’am?”
She swallowed. “Yes. Fine.”
“You live here?” He pointed to Clint’s house.
“No, actually, I’m staying next door.” She gestured toward Laurie’s in-laws’ home.
“Holly Sparks?”
She nodded, confused. How did he know my name?
“Detective Andy Harris asked me to check on your place during my shift tonight. I’ll be coming through your neighborhood periodically to make sure there’s nothing suspicious.” He motioned toward her house. “You expecting any visitors tonight?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Okay, well, if everything’s all right, I’ll get back to my patrol and drive by a little later. If you notice anything suspicious in the meantime, don’t hesitate to call 911.”
“Thanks.”
He propped his elbow through the open window. “You were driving pretty fast back there. Take it easy next time, okay? This is a neighborhood.”
He pulled away, and Holly sank against the seat before pulling into her drive.
She got out of the car, still shaken. As she walked to the front door, the phone rang from inside the house.
It was still ringing when she stepped inside, and she hurried to the kitchen to answer it before it went to the answering machine.
“Hello?”
“It’s Andy. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a few hours. I was starting to worry. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Aside from wasting the entire day when I should’ve been writing.
“Sorry, I wasn’t home.” She glanced in the direction of Clint’s house.
A bluish glow from a TV flickered against his windowpane, shifting shadows like ghosts dancing across the glass.
“Did you speak to the bartender?” She leaned against the wall, preparing for Andy to tell her Jared’s alibi checked out, thinking Jared likely got the bartender to lie for him.
“That’s why I’m calling. The bartender specifically remembers Jared stepping out of the bar after the third inning, and he doesn’t recall seeing Jared again until nearly the end of the Mariner’s game.
I went to the house where Jared is staying, but no one was home.
I’m going to request a search warrant for Jared’s storage unit in the morning.
With luck, I’ll find damage to the passenger side of his car. ”
“Can you arrest him? I mean, since he lied about his alibi?” She knew the answer as soon as she asked.
“Not without proof he was driving the car that forced you over the bridge. In the meantime, I’ve requested a Tacoma patrol unit to drive by your house periodically through the night.”
“An officer already came by.”
“Good. Then stay inside and lock your doors. If you feel unsafe at any point, call 911.”
Holly twisted her neck trying to see the front door. She couldn’t remember locking it after coming inside.
“Jared shouldn’t know where you’re staying,” Andy added. “The patrol is just to be safe.”
After hanging up, Holly decided Andy was right.
Jared couldn’t know where she was staying.
If he did, he would’ve come for her already.
She’d already wasted enough time looking into Clint’s wife’s death; she couldn’t waste any more worrying about Jared.
That was why she’d come here. To be safe and to work in peace.
Jared had already taken enough from her.
She checked the time on the microwave and resolved to write until at least 1:00 a.m. If she started now and stayed focused, she could get in almost a full workday before going to bed. She grabbed an apple off the counter before turning off the kitchen lights.
On her way to lock the front door, she cast a glance over her shoulder through the kitchen window at the glow coming from Clint’s outdoor lights. He might not be interested in her, but at least her cute next-door neighbor wasn’t a murderer.