Page 59 of The First Hunt

“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.

Chapter 36

HOLLY

Holly trudged down the carpeted stairs the next morning to refill her coffee. She wore the same sweats as yesterday, having been too tired to undress last night when she’d finally gone to bed at two in the morning. After knocking out three more chapters in her manuscript, she’d succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep, despite Andy’s phone call last night about Jared.

When she neared the bottom of the stairs, movement outside the front window caught her eye. She moved closer to the window, holding her empty mug. It was a mail truck parked in front of her house. The mailman slipped a handful of mail into her letter box before walking to Clint’s with a small stack of envelopes tucked under his arm.

As the mail truck pulled away from the curb, Holly set the mug on the entryway table and stepped outside. She wasn’t getting any mail sent here, so she hadn’t checked the mailbox since she’d moved in. But if Laurie’s in-laws were still getting mail delivered, it could be stacking up.

Holly looked down at her slippers and her clothes, noticing the coffee stain on the front of her sweatshirt, then shot a glance at the quiet house next door. Not that it mattered—Clint wasn’t interested in her. She thought of the pretty dark-haired woman she’d seen leaving yesterday morning. But she’d be quick anyway, just in case he was home. Clint may be seeing someone else, but she still had her pride.

She withdrew a stack of mail from the mailbox along with an issue ofThe Tacoma Timeswrapped in a plastic bag inside the newspaper box. She cast one last cursory glance at Clint’s house before swiftly retreating inside her own.

She carried the mail to the kitchen, retrieving her empty mug on the way. She refilled it with steaming coffee before sliding the bag off the newspaper. It was the Sunday edition. She racked her brain to recall what day it was.Tuesday?she wondered, realizing she hadn’t checked the news in days.

She flipped through the paper, scouring the headlines for news of the woman who’d gone missing from the Albertson’s bus stop last week. But there was no mention of her disappearance or her being found. There was, however, a half-page article detailing Holly’s car getting run off the Strander Boulevard Bridge into the Green River. The article didn’t mention her name, but that didn’t make Holly feel any better. If Jaredhadbeen the one behind the wheel of the other car and he’d seen the news, he would know she survived. She had no doubt he would strike again. After turning to the last page, Holly slid the paper aside to sort through Norm and Maurine’s mail.

She tossed a Domino’s coupon and a cable TV flyer in the trash before setting aside a JCPenney catalog addressed to Maurine to give to Laurie. She set an envelope for Norm on top of the catalog. When she reached for the next one, she stopped cold. It had been put in the wrong mailbox. It was for the house next door.

But it wasn’t the address that made the air around her feel like it had dropped ten degrees. It was who it was addressed to:Louie Clinton Prescott. A hollow chill spread through her limbs.

Numb, Holly stared out the window at Clint’s house, imagining a nine-year-old John in the backseat while his dad picked up Sally Hickman in 1984. John would’ve been waiting in the car while his dad butchered Sally in the woods. Goosebumps crawled across her arms like frost.

No,she thought. Detectives had ruled Louie Prescott out. He’d not only passed a polygraph but also had an alibi for some of the Green River Killer murders. Clint being the suspect that Jared interviewed in 1985 didn’t make Clint a killer.

Holly thought of the brunette leaving Clint’s house the morning after Clint kissed her in the kitchen.Was Clint such a good liar that he’d gotten away with the unthinkable?

Holly turned for the stairs to retrieve her address book to find her contact at the Tacoma Homicide Unit. There was only one way to find out.

***

“Our casefiles are organized by casefile number.” Detective Amanda Corrado handed Holly a handwritten nine-digit number on a legal pad. “This is Diana Carter’s casefile number. Sorry I can’t help you look.”

“That’s okay. I know you’re busy.”

“Yeah, sorry it was a bit of a zoo upstairs. I’d like to say it’s not normally like that, but these last few months have been crazy around here.” Amanda gestured to the paper in Holly’s hand. “That happened before I started in homicide. Our department has had a big turnover since then, and a lot of the detectives working at the time have either retired or transferred to otherunits. But there’s still a few around that we can track down if you have questions.”

---