Annie nodded.
“No.” Stephanie shook her head quickly. “I heard my mom talking about him on the phone and I know people think he did it, but…” She turned back to the pool, brows scrunching together as she thought. “I don’t think he… he… actually, I don’t know if he does.”
Annie leaned forward. “If he does what?”
“If he has a tattoo.” Stephanie turned to meet Annie’s eyes again. “Jamie said her boyfriend had a tattoo. She went on and on about how much she loved it.”
Annie’s heart stuttered in her chest. Daniel did not have tattoos. Not one.
“Are you sure?” Annie leaned forward again. “Are you absolutely positive she said he had a tattoo?”
Stephanie nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. She loved guys with tattoos.”
Hope was stirring in Annie’s chest. This was something at last. Something to go on.
“Did she mention what kind? Or how many?”
Stephanie pulled her lip into her teeth as she hunted through her memory, then her eyes flickered with some recollection, something dragged forward from her undoubtedly bottomless well of conversations with Jamie.
“At least two, I think. She said ‘tattoos,’ not ‘tattoo,’ I’m… I’m pretty sure. Not positive, but pretty sure. And I can’t remember if she ever said what kind they were. She probably did, but I just can’t remember.”
“Okay.” Annie nodded. “That’s okay.”
She reached out to lay a hand on Stephanie’s back. “I know you’re going through a lot right now, and I’m so sorry for your loss. If there’s anything else you remember, anything at all that you think might be worth mentioning, big or small, I want you to come into the station or call and let us know, okay?”
Tears brimmed in Stephanie’s eyes again at Annie’s condolences, but they stayed in silver half-moons as she nodded and looked away, dropping her feet back into the water.
Annie stood to leave, casting one quick glance in the direction of the manager’s office as she rose. The door was ajar, and inside, the cluttered desk was vacant. Ian Ward was not at work today. Ian, who had come into the station to make a show of pointing the finger at Daniel right off the bat. Ian, who had at least one tattoo.
As she walked around the pool on her way out, Annie gazed at the water, the azure of the deep end fading into the aquamarine of the shallows. For the first time, a new picture was emerging in her mind, a new version of what had happened that night, here, at the pool, where a tattooed man who thought himself a cut above the rest of the town—and certainly above being dumped by Jamie Boyd—had held her head down in the water until she died.
Annie’s fingers were tingling as she strode toward the cruiser, and there was a strange spring in her step, as though the ground itself were propelling her forward.
At last.
At last there was a piece of evidence in her hands pointing at someone other than Daniel Barela.
Chapter 33ANNIE
The station was empty when Annie unlocked the door and stepped inside.
She didn’t bother flipping on the lights as she rounded the desk, her eyes on the landline where a blinking red number announced two unheard messages.
On the drive over from the pool, she’d run the timeline in her head, and it fit. It actually fit. Jamie had run up to the lake just before midnight. It had probably taken her a few minutes to strip down and get in the water, and not long after that, Daniel had stepped out onto the dock and asked her to leave. Twelve fifteen. Twelve twenty, maybe. With a time of death between one and three in the morning, that left plenty of time for Jamie to make her way down to the pool with Ian or someone else, and plenty of time for the drive up to the ridge afterward, where Jamie’s killer had dumped her body in the hopes of blaming it on Justin Grimes.
In fact, it mademoresense that Jamie’s drowning had taken place in town, rather than up in the briars. If Jamie had been drowned in Lake Lumin, the easiest thing for the killer to do would be to leave her body there and let Daniel take the blame for it.
The more she thought about it, the more convinced Annie becamethat the lab results would prove Jamie had drowned in the pool, and that’s what had brought her back to the station, the hope that Doc Porter had called with results from the lab in Seattle.
Breath held, Annie pressed the play button for the first recorded message.
“Hi, this is Paula Rizzo for Annie Heston. I’m with the Northwest Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Portland, and I wanted to let you know that the cougar you brought in has been treated and released back into his territory with a new radio collar at the coordinates you gave us. The wound wasn’t as deep as we first thought, but he does have a few stitches that will dissolve on their own within the next week or two, and a light bandage to keep them clean in the meantime. Thank you again for bringing him in, and please don’t hesitate to call us if you have any questions or need anything in the future. Thank you.”
Impatiently, Annie clicked the arrow for the next message.
“Annie, are you there? It’s Jake, pick up… pick up… guess not. So, listen, good news and bad news. The good news is I know why the Jeep’s been stuttering on the freeway, but the bad news is you need a new head gasket. It blew out on me when I was heading back from the courthouse. I called a tow truck, and I’m at a garage in some tiny town called Hockinson, about twenty minutes from Vancouver. I told the mechanic I’m on police business so he bumped me up to first in line, but it’s still half a day’s job. No idea when I’ll be back, but probably way later tonight or early tomorrow morning. I don’t wanna spend the night down here with Daniel being such a flight risk and all, so I’ll be back up as soon as I can to get him into custody. If you need me in the meantime, here’s the number for the garage…”
Annie grabbed a pen and took down the phone number he rattled off, shoulders sagging with relief. It wasn’t much, only a few extra hours, half a day at the most, but one bad gasket had bought Daniel a little more time before his arrest.
