“You heard a kid scream and you left?” Olivia’s good-cop impression was done. She sounded like she wanted to slap the kid. Zack didn’t blame her, but he also didn’t want to lose this kid’s cooperation.
“I-I-” he glanced down, feet shuffling.
Zack asked, “What did you see before Jenny was abducted?”
Sean paused. “I don’t know. It’s not important.”
“Try us.”
He hesitated again, and Olivia said, “Sean, the man who killed Jenny will kill another little girl if we don’t stop him. If it was your sister, wouldn’t you want to help?”
Fear and worry crossed his face. “I-aw, fuck.” He breathed heavily, then said in a rush, “I saw a guy that morning. He didn’t look familiar, and my friends and I are always at the park, you know, there’s nothing to do and none of us have our driver’s licenses. He hadn’t been around before, and he was an old guy, you know. Not that he looked that old, really, but you could see it in his face, you know? I thought he was like my dad’s age, like forty, but maybe he was even older, like fifty.”
“You got a good look at him?” Zack asked.
Sean shook his head. “No, it was just an impression. Really.”
“Could you work with a police sketch artist?” Olivia asked.
“No, I really didn’t get a good look at him.”
“Where was he when you saw him?” Zack asked, changing the direction of the conversation.
“My pal Kyle and I were sitting at the pond feeding the ducks and just shooting the shit, you know? It was early; my mom hadn’t even gone to work yet and I just wanted a couple minutes’ peace before having to baby-sit all day. There was this guy just walking through the park.”
“Why did you even notice him?”
Sean thought a long minute. “I don’t know, exactly. I think it was the tattoo.”
Zack felt Olivia tense and lean forward, but she didn’t say anything.
“Tattoo?” Zack asked.
“Yeah. People around here don’t have them, at least not those big blue designs like Popeye.”
“His tattoo was of Popeye?”
Sean shook his head. “No, it’s just what I thought when I saw it. Popeye the sailor man. Popeye has an anchor, I think. This tattoo was an eagle.”
“You must have been pretty close to him to notice it was an eagle.”
“He walked right by the pond, but he didn’t stop or anything. Kyle and I looked up, then went back to feeding the fish.”
“Hair?”
“Short. Like a really short buzz cut. Maybe that’s why I thought about Popeye.”
“Eyes?”
“He wore sunglasses.”
“Shirt?”
“White.”
“Pants?”
“Jeans.”
“Shoes?”
He paused. “That’s why I think we really noticed him. There’s a lot of walkers in the neighborhood. But he had on these big hiking boots.”
“If you had to guess how tall he was, what would you say?”
“Taller than my dad, but that’s not saying anything. My dad’s shorter than me.”
“We’ll need Kyle’s last name and address,” Zack said when he realized he couldn’t get any more details out of the kid. “And I am sending over a police artist. I think you’ll remember a lot more than you think.”
CHAPTER 12
Kyle Bolks had nothing to add to Sean’s information, and in fact didn’t even remember what day Jenny had been abducted. Olivia listened to Zack on the phone calling his partner to accompany a sketch artist to the Miller house. Sean’s mother would have to give her consent, but Olivia didn’t think that would be a problem. Most people wanted to help.
She stared out the window as Zack drove from the Benedicts’ new home development into the Davidsons’ more established neighborhood several miles and a bridge away. Large maple trees lined the sidewalks, curbside mailboxes were decorated with elegant numbers. Long narrow walkways led to quaint, well-maintained older homes that reminded Olivia more of Vermont than the West Coast.
Zack had been quiet during the fifteen-minute drive across town, but that was fine with Olivia. She was still uncomfortable from their conversation prior to their meeting with Laura and Tanya. But what really unnerved her was the expression on Sean Miller’s face when he realized the man he saw in the park earlier the day Jenny was abducted was likely her killer. That it could have been his little sister. It could have been someone he loved.
Olivia pictured the eagle tattoo and involuntarily shivered. There was no doubt in her mind the man Sean saw killed not only Jenny Benedict, but her sister, Missy. He was in Seattle. Readying himself to prey on another unsuspecting victim. Waiting for the right time to come in for the kill.
Stop. She had to put all her feelings aside. Zack Travis had already proven too perceptive. If he even thought she had another motive for being in Seattle, he’d send her packing. Call up her boss and have her fired. Without her job she had nothing. She’d built her entire adult life around helping other people the best way she knew how-with science. Without it, what could she do? Who would she help? Without her job, she would no longer be fighting for the rights of the victims, fighting for justice for those they left behind. But Olivia was willing to risk everything she had, everything she was, to stop this predator. When and if Zack learned the truth, she would deal with the fallout. Until then she had to keep her wits about her and stop feeling guilty. There was time enough for guilt later.
Zack stopped the car in front of a two-story Victorian-style home with a wraparound porch, complete with hanging swing. He made no move to get out. “I hate this.”
Olivia glanced over at him. He stared straight ahead through the windshield, his jaw tight.
“They can see you care,” Olivia said quietly, chastising herself for worrying about her own plight when there was more than her future at stake. “Sometimes that’s all you can do.”
Zack looked at her, and she was surprised that a man of such physical and emotional strength would allow the pain of a troubling investigation to cloud his expression. If she allowed the pain and anger to surface, she’d never be able to put it aside.
She swallowed, determined not to let him see anything but a professional sitting next to him. Inside, the weight of her deception sank her spirits lower. What right did she have to even question Laura Adams? Or Sean Miller? Or to be here outside a house full of grief?
Abruptly, Zack got out of the car before Olivia could even think of voicing her conflict. Good thing. Focus, Olivia. Focus. Keep the goal firmly in mind: stopping Missy’s killer before he stole another life.
She would deal with the repercussions-internal and external-later.
Anyone entering the Davidsons’ home would instantly think family. Pictures of three children-two girls and a boy-filled every available surface and many of the walls. Shoes in several different sizes were kicked against the wall just inside the door. A coat rack in the hall separating the entry from the kitchen boasted cubbies for lunch boxes, hooks for outerwear, and a corkboard for notes.
Olivia stared at Michelle’s message board.
We love you, Michelle.
Coming here was not a good idea. She should have remained at the station reviewing the evidence logs. Focusing on the facts, the science, that would see this case through. Not talking to child witnesses, and certainly not facing the parents of one of the victims.
You’re in over your head, Liv.
“Can I get you coffee?” Tall and slender, Brenda Davidson walked as if each step sent a bolt of pain up her spine.
Zack declined for both of them and Mrs. Davidson nodded, as if the effort exhausted her. Dark circles framed her large blue eyes, eyes bright with thinly concealed pain.
She led them down the hall, through the large open kitchen, and into the family room. Again, family was the operative word. Kids’ videos overflowed from bookshelves on either side of a large-screen television. Board games filled another built-in shelving unit. And pictures. Everywhere, pictures.