Page 92 of The Whispering Girls
“Uh, we have an interesting visitor,” said Katie, peering through the binoculars.
“Who is that?” said McGaven, squinting. “She looks familiar.”
Katie gave McGaven the binoculars as Libby hugged Westin.
“Now that’s interesting,” he said. “Very interesting.”
“I wonder what Libby is doing here. From the backgroundcheck we did, she has a husband and it’s definitely not that guy.”
“Nope.”
“And wasn’t she the one who said someone, anonymously, called in TJ’s crime scene and she wasn’t sure if it was a man or woman?”
“That’s right.”
“But how does she fit into all of this?” said Katie.
“Well, she’s worked for the chief for a while.”
“The more information we have, the more it has the chief in common,” she said.
“I still don’t see him as a killer, especially with this much crime scene orchestration.”
Katie had an epiphany. “We’ve been approaching this all wrong.”
Turning toward her, McGaven said, “How do you mean?”
“I think we’ve been a bit jaded. We’ve been working on serial killer cases too long. Even though I believe these homicides are connected, and there is only one killer—at least at this point. These murders have been made tolook likea serial killer,” she said. “To throw off the investigation and to potentially send us on a wild goose chase.”
“So once we find the main links…”
“It will lead us to the killer,” she said. “Let have a little chat with Westin.” Katie started the Jeep and pulled out onto the street in front of Westin’s house.
The detectives got out of the car and hurried to the door. Katie knocked.
The door immediately opened and Libby stood there. She recognized the detectives and looked both surprised and embarrassed.
“Detectives Scott and McGaven. We need to speak with Bill Westin. Official business,” said Katie.
“Uh, he’s not here,”stammered Libby.
“Nice try. We saw you both barely twenty minutes ago,” she said. “We just have a few questions.”
“Okay,” said Libby, shamefaced, and opened the door wider for the detectives to enter.
Westin emerged from the living room. “What can I do for you?” he said. His stiff body language and inability to keep eye contact with the detectives showed his nerves.
“Where were you on Tuesday morning around 6 a.m.?” said Katie.
Westin shrugged. “Sleeping. My alarm goes off at seven. What’s this about?”
“What time did you go to bed Monday night?”
“I dunno, around eleven, I guess.”
“You slept the entire night?”
“Yeah.”
