Page 5 of The First Hunt (The Final Hunt)

HOLLY

H olly moved yesterday’s copy of the Tribune , which was open to Meg’s article on page three, to the edge of the kitchen table, along with the tall stack of letters she’d received since the article had been published.

Meg’s last high school photo before she dropped out was enlarged beneath the headline, “Refusing to Give Up: A Sister’s Fight for Truth. ”

It had been a week since they’d found the latest suspected Green River Killer victim, now confirmed as nineteen-year-old prostitute Sally Hickman, and her case had already gone cold.

With nothing new to report on Sally Hickman or the Green River Killer investigation, Holly had gotten permission for the first time to publish an article on Meg’s murder.

Holly looked at the article, her name beneath the headline. It should have felt like a step forward, a victory—but instead, it was just words on a page, and her sister was still gone.

Holly shifted her attention from Meg’s article to the one-hundred-page true crime book proposal she’d been working on over the last few months, detailing the brutal murder of popular late-night radio personality, Cassidy Ray.

Two years ago, the Tribune’s then-primary crime reporter had been busy writing a piece on a newly discovered Green River Killer victim when Holly got a tip that Cassidy Ray had been brutally murdered—bludgeoned to death with her Golden Mic award—in her Capitol Hill mansion.

After Holly’s article ran on the front page of the Tribune, the story became a national media sensation.

Covering the high-profile case launched Holly’s career, quickly making her the Tribune’s most-read reporter.

Her byline soon dominated the Tribune’s front page, pushing the male, veteran reporters farther back in the paper, until she’d taken their spot as the lead crime journalist. When a literary agent approached Holly about writing a true crime novel about the case, she’d happily agreed to submit a proposal, even though she knew the chances of getting a book deal were slim.

Holly glanced at Meg’s smiling school photo in the open newspaper, then slid the proposal and sample chapters into the manila envelope addressed to her newly acquired New York literary agent.

The pages detailed the radio host’s deadly love triangle and the murder trial that followed, which resulted in Cassidy’s assistant being found guilty of her murder, while Cassidy’s boyfriend walked free, despite a public outcry. “Here’s hoping.”

Her phone rang, and Holly went to answer it before sealing the envelope.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetie. Happy anniversary.”

Holly smiled. “Hi, Jared. Happy anniversary to you too.” Today was one year from their first date, and Jared had insisted on celebrating.

She fingered the necklace he’d given her earlier this week, a sapphire encased in a gold heart, part of his apology for losing his temper over her Green River Killer “obsession.” When she told Jared she feared they’d rushed into engagement, Jared begged her not to throw it all away over his one mistake.

Instead of breaking it off, she’d decided to give things more time.

Since then, he’d been overly sweet to her, clearly feeling bad for his blow up.

Except for last night, when he snapped at her for going on about the lack of leads in Sally Hickman’s murder.

Maybe snapped was too strong, she thought.

But she could tell when Jared asked her to give it a rest, he was growing irritated.

And she let it go, not wanting to set off his temper.

It’s the same thing Mom used to do around Dad: clam up, change the subject, make herself busy to stay out of his way, apologize when she’d done nothing wrong.

As soon as the thoughts entered her mind, she forced them away. This isn’t the same thing.

“I made us a dinner reservation at Vito’s for seven,” Jared said. “I’m still finishing up at work, so how about I pick you up in an hour?”

“Perfect.” She checked her watch. It was just after five. If she hurried, she could take her book proposal to the post office before they closed. “I’ll see you then.”

“Also,” Jared added before she could hang up, “my mom wants to know if we’ve decided on a date yet for the wedding. I told her we’d let her know soon.”

Holly bit her lip. “I’m still thinking about it.”

“That’s what you said last week.”

She glanced at the kitchen table. The truth was she’d been too consumed by her book submission and writing Meg’s article to think about it at all.

“I’ve just been swamped with work lately.

” And planning a wedding felt like a chore she didn’t have time for.

But she couldn’t tell Jared that. He’d been married once before, and they’d eloped, something he seemed to think contributed to the demise of their relationship.

This time, he was set on having a proper wedding.

Holly gazed at the waning daylight out the window. She needed to leave in the next five minutes if she was going to make it to the post office before they closed. “Let’s talk about it at dinner.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Holly hung up, relieved he didn’t press her any further about it right now.

She folded the flap on the manila envelope and pressed the two metal prongs flat.

She flipped it over and stared at the addressed envelope, thinking how surreal it was to be submitting a true crime novel to a New York literary agent.

Growing up, she’d fantasized about becoming the next Danielle Steel, writing love stories in a notebook in her room with happily ever afters to escape her parents’ arguments.

It had been what she’d set out to do by majoring in English in college.

But after Meg was killed, everything had changed.

Her childhood dream of having her name on a book cover had now been replaced with a burning desire to see Meg’s killer brought to justice.

The more Holly built up her credibility as a writer and researcher, the better chance she would have convincing detectives—and the public—that the Green River Killer murdered Meg.

Hopefully, this book would do just that.

Her phone rang again, but this time she ignored it. Envelope in hand, she headed for the door. When she reached for the door handle, her answering machine sounded from the kitchen. She paused to hear who was calling.

“Hey, Holly. It’s Sarah from the Tribune . Sorry to bother you at home, I know it’s your day off.”

Holly retreated toward her answering machine. Had they discovered another Green River Killer victim? Her recent article had made it no secret that Holly had a personal interest in the serial killer investigation. Holly stilled, her attention sharpened, as the Tribune’s receptionist continued.

“But there’s a woman here who’s asking to speak to you. She read your recent article and says she knew your sister Meg. They roomed together at a group home the year before your sister died.”

Pulse racing, Holly swiped the receiver off the wall. She’d been looking for Meg’s roommate for years.

“Sarah?”

“Oh. Hi, Holly. I was just leaving you a mess—”

“Tell her to wait. I’ll be right there.”