Amanda was confused until he pointed toward the screen, drawing her eye to the last line of Wyatt’s report.
The eyewitness seems wishy-washy about what she saw. Not wanting to commit to her statement.
That could explain why Wyatt hadn’t called this in. “I still say we talk with this woman and feel her out for ourselves. Wyatt would have seen her when the situation was fresh. It would be a lot for anyone to take in. Dobson’s nerves at the time might have prevented her from committing to her statement.”
“Could be.”
“Did you get anything from Brandt’s report, or have you finished?”
“Just before you got me over here. According to him, none of the houses he visited had any doorbell cam footage for Friday night around the time of the murder.”
“Which is strange. Wyatt noted the same. He also commented the neighborhood doesn’t have CCTV.”
“Even if there was, the county doesn’t record. It’s live feed only. So there’s no way to verify this jogger even exists outside of Dobson’s statement.”
“It looks that way. We might get lucky with Jensen. He could have found a house with a working doorbell cam.”
Trent’s jaw tightened, and his body became tense. “I just can’t help feeling like we’re missing something here. Something huge.”
She couldn’t let herself get sucked into that feeling. “You know what? Leave Jensen to me. I’ll call if there’s anything earth shattering. You go home, call it a day.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Go.” It didn’t need to be said, but he’d clocked hours after she’d left last night and got an early start today. She owed him.
“Good night.”
“Night.”
After watching him walk away, she read Jensen’s notes. Unfortunately, they offered nothing actionable or useful to the investigation. That left Dobson’s statement as their strongest lead at this point. But even if there was a mystery jogger hanging around Charmed Court on Friday night, was she the killer they were after?
TWENTY-ONE
Amanda picked up a small pizza on the way home to carry on the tradition of Pizza Tuesdays as she and Zoe marked the day. For them it was an act of rebellion against the rest of North America’s Taco Tuesdays. She ate two slices on the couch and considered calling Carter, but her body craved sleep. The sitting around only amplified that desire. She pushed herself until nine o’clock before turning out the lights and heading to bed.
She drifted off quickly but jolted awake from a vivid nightmare in the wee hours. A woman cloaked in black fired a gun on her three times in quick succession. She didn’t even have a chance to respond. Then Amanda was outside of herself looking down on Christine Lane’s dead body from above. There were two bullet holes in her chest and one in her forehead. Blood drained from the wounds, seeping from her chest and forehead. It trailed down the bridge of her nose and off the point of her chin.
Amanda was left catching her breath. It didn’t matter that the sequences didn’t make any logical sense. It didn’t take a therapist to determine the source of the dream.
Three times… An execution… Like a hit…
Those words floated up from her subconscious. Phrases from the last two days of the investigation.
Three taps and now we have a silencer…Trent’s words from yesterday.
What if his implication was closer to the truth than she wanted to accept?
She made out the time on her alarm clock.2:05 AM. The witching hour.Chills spilled over her legs and arms and had her burrowing beneath the covers. She’d blame it on the energetic residue from her nightmare.
Amanda lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting her heart rate come down. But it was hard to shake the imagery or the message.
Three times… An execution… Like a hit…
Even assuming a mystery jogger existedandwas the killer, how could she have known Christine would be in the house on Charmed Court Friday night? She could be a stalker they hadn’t uncovered yet, but even so, why choose to target her there? This woman would know Christine was there to show clients the house.
But what if she and Trent had been investigating from the wrong angle this entire time? They hadn’t been able to find anyone who wanted Christine Lane dead. What if someone else was the true target?
The homeowner, Dominique Sharp, was a lawyer. It was a career that made enemies more readily than a real estate agent. The woman was also abrasive, based on Amanda’s first impressions, and she doubted that opinion would lessen with further encounters.
