“It’s not the first time someone decided to remind me that the Trinket Killer is still out there. When I first took this job, someone thought it would be funny to leave twelve different trinkets on my porch with a big sign calling me a murderer.”
“You didn’t kill those women.”
His strong hands came down on her shoulders. He spun her around. The chair screeched on the tile floor. “That’s not what you told the world the day we broke up, or your last day reporting for Channel 5. And then you went and told everyone about your theory and how I blew you off.”
“Well, you did.”
“Actually, I didn’t,” he said. “Levi Crawford and I sat and discussed that theory one night for hours. The problem with it was the blood DNA.”
“But now we know that Armstrong tampered with those samples and actually placed Adam’s at the scene,” she said.
“But we didn’t know that until after your sister’s death. And since Armstrong is dead, we haven’t been able to figure out a motivation for why she did that,” he said, holding her gaze. “Had it not been for that evidence, I would have considered your theory that we had the profile all wrong and Adam wasn’t our killer.”
“This is a big never-ending fucking loop that has driven me crazy for the last year. The publisher is fine with the book the way it is, but it feels unfinished.”
“Because he’s still out there.” Jag took her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “But have you ever thought he might be done? That whatever triggered him, or whatever he wanted to accomplish, is over? I stayed in Seattle, and it’s been hard to let this all go, but part of taking this job was doing exactly that.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “Finish the book and move on.”
“Let me interview you. I need a chapter just about you. A personal anecdote of some kind. That’s really all I have left to do.”
“If I agree, do you think you’ll be able to walk away from the Trinket Killer once and for all?”
She nodded.
“All right. I’ll do it on one more condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I get to kill anything in the chapter I don’t like.”
“I can live with that,” she said.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go to the station. I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“I was thinking I’d go into town and work at the library while you were at work.” While she didn’t like admitting feeling that spooked, she had no desire to be looking over her shoulder. At least at the library, she’d be in the same building as Jag, and she could sit in the corner with her back to the wall and a good view of everyone that came in.
The library was that small.
Besides, she could look up old newspaper articles that she might have missed referring to the Trinket Killer.
Or Jagar Bowie.
Chapter 6
“Thanks, Jenna.” Jag tossed his overnight bag in the back of his Jeep. Callie was going to be pissed for about five minutes. Mostly because he went into her room and snagged a few of her things for an overnight without telling her. She always hated when he did that.
He thought he was being romantic and spontaneous.
She said it bordered on controlling and manipulative.
And then she settled in and had a good time.
But if he was going to open up to her for this stupid book, it was going to be on his terms.
Not hers.
“Any time, Chief,” Jenna said, leaning against his SUV with her arms folded across her chest. “I checked the ferry logs, and Bailey left the island with her team an hour after she met with Callie.”
“And you’re sure she hasn’t come back?”
“I’m positive. She was too busy fucking her boss.”
Jag arched a brow. “Which one?”
“From the reputation that woman has, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s slept with all of them. But currently, she seems to be having quite the passionate affair with the news manager, Todd Geoff. They think they are being discreet, but you wouldn’t believe how easy it was to find that out.”
“How can you be sure she was with him this morning?”
“Because they were both in Succulent Sweets at about eight.” Jenna waved her index finger in the air. “Todd licked icing off her finger. Nic said it was the grossest thing she’d ever seen.”
“I bet. How are Nic and Matt?” Jag asked. It had been a while since he’d seen Detective Matt Montgomery or his lovely bride. Ever since he moved out to the island, he’d pushed his old life away, Matt included.
“Their good. Matt asked about you, especially how you’re holding up since Callie blew back into town.”
“I’ll give him a call next week. Thanks again for everything. You know how to reach me.”
Jenna tapped the hood of his Jeep. “Be safe, Chief.” She strolled toward the parking lot and her patrol car.
He slipped behind the steering wheel and waited for Callie. It took her another ten minutes before she left the library and meandered down the walkway with her knapsack slung over her shoulder.
She had pulled her long blond hair into a high ponytail. A few strands lined her oval face. She waved, pushing her dark sunglasses up on her nose. “Where are we going?”
“Get in and get buckled.”
“Oh, God,” she mumbled as she pulled the strap across her chest. “What have you done?”
“What the hell does that mean?” He revved the engine before putting it into gear and pulling out onto the street. “Why would you think I’ve done anything?”
She laughed, glancing over her shoulder. “Because we’re taking the Jeep, not the Harley, which means there are clothes in that bag, and I bet there’s camping equipment in the back.”
“There’s always camping stuff in my SUV, you know that.”
She tilted her head and glared. “I’m not going to go camping with you.”
“If you want to interview me, then yes, you are;
