Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
“No.” I shake my head to emphasize it. “I told you, there is a silo around this case, and I am standing outside it. I would never lie to you. You know that, right?”
His lips purse, but finally he nods. “How worried should we be?”
“I mean, I don’t know. What I do know is Jack left that night at 12:45 a.m. He told them he went straight home and that the company that tracks his vehicle for him ever since his last truck was stolen could confirm that. We didn’t pursue it because there was no compelling reason to suspect him of anything. From the time he left the bar that night to his vehicle pulling out was maybe four or five minutes. Could something have happened between him and Holly in that time frame?” I shrug. “We didn’t think so, but …”
Logan leans against the fence post, his brow furrowing deeper. “Jack was supposed to get me in the morning, but Jameson showed up instead. He made some comment about Jack dealing with ex-wife bullshit. He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. But what could his ex-wife want at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning?”
“It seems odd,” I agree. “But Rebecca is a real piece of work.” She used to demand access to his phone and accuse him of cheating if he changed his password. She stopped taking birth control without telling him, and quit her job the moment she got pregnant, insisting she was high risk, even though there was no medical reason to support that. Jack moved back with his parents not because he wanted to but because that’s all he could afford. The truck is technically owned by the Barrows’ farming business.
“Yeah, I’ve heard some of the stories.”
“Did you tell the detectives this?”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t remember until today.”
I hesitate. “Do you think it was a lie?”
“I don’t know?” He rubs the back of his neck. “I talked to Jack after they interviewed him and he said that dickhead detective kept circling back, over and over again, asking the smallest, dumbest questions, until Jack finally told him he was done.”
Because Terry was trying to rattle him, catch him in a lie.
“All this because we went fishing that morning? This is nuts! There is no fucking way Jack had anything to do with Holly.”
And yet it’s sounding like Jack is ticking all the boxes. “Whatever he said to the detectives was enough to earn a warrant.”
“Fuck. My family can’t go through anything like this again.” Logan’s voice turns gruff with emotion. “This will break them.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I move in close to lean against his rigid arm, the tension radiating off him. “They haven’t arrested him.” Yet.
“No, he’s just a person of interest. Yesterday, he was a witness. What’s he gonna be tomorrow, huh?”
“That’s only if they find something in his truck or boat. Something to tie him to Holly. Is there any chance at all of that?” I ask it as gently as I can.
“I know he’s picked up women at the Bale House and they’ve gone out back a few times. But they’re grown-ass women, not fifteen-year-old girls. Fuck no, Em. He has a daughter!”
I wish that stopped some of these creeps, but I’ve seen enough to prove that theory wrong.
The bull snorts and kicks at the ground.
Logan notes the keen animal’s reaction and takes a deep, calming breath. But he’s shaking. “It can’t be him, Em. It just can’t.”
“Okay, if it’s not Jack, then it’s someone else. Someone who drove to Lake Temagami and dumped her.” Whoever this guy was, he moved fast and didn’t want to be caught. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything at all when you were there? Think. Even the smallest detail.” It’s a desperate plea, but seeing Logan so panicked is making my chest ache.
“The detectives already asked me this.” He tosses his hands up in a helpless manner. “I don’t know? We were there to fish! We fished. Didn’t catch anything. Jameson brought a cooler. They fought over Jill’s sandwiches. They were tuna. That’s what I remember. That, and the sun. It was a nice day.”
“And other people?”
He scratches his forehead as he thinks. “There was an old man in a kayak, and a loon that followed us around all morning. There was a shitty old beater sitting in the parking lot, and a couple loading up a pontoon with wood—”
“Wait! Wait …” I cut him off, my mind snagging on something. “Go back. You said a beater.” I’ve heard that word before, and not that long ago.
Logan frowns. “Yeah. It was parked next to Jack’s truck. The thing looked like a road safety hazard.”
“What color was it?”
Logan scowls in thought. “Green? Yeah … it was definitely a weird shade.”
Suspicion slides down my neck like a dribble of cold water. “Did it have duct tape all over its bumper?”