Pierce crossed around his desk, tossed a file folder on top of a bunch of other folders, and sat. “We dumped all the CCTV in the area and didn’t find a vehicle or the guy who attacked you,” he said without preamble. “I’m cross-referencing all of Anna’s private cases right now and have found nothing to tie to the perp.” He pulled a yellow legal pad from the bottom of the file folders and read quickly. “The MO is different than the guy attacking women in Spokane, but I’m not ruling him out.”
Her heart sank. “So you have no idea who the man was who attacked us.”
“No,” Pierce said grimly. “In addition, I’ve confirmed Turner Johnson’s alibi. The guy was in Portland that night, and he has no criminal record or any hint of problems.”
“Great.” Her voice shook, although she’d known Turner hadn’t been the attacker.
Bosco reached for her hand and took it, warming every inch. “We’ll find him.”
“Your colleague Mark from the college still has a solid alibi. I double checked.” Pierce looked at their joined hands and then lifted his gaze to Bosco. “Any chance this has something to do with you?”
“I don’t see how,” Bosco said quietly. “I guess anybody could’ve seen us together at the Clumsy Penguin, but nobody is after me. My work is far away from here, and I don’t have any enemies.”
“Any ex-girlfriends who could’ve hired the attacker?” Pierce asked.
Bosco shook his head. “No. Only ex is Jennie Newton, and she wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“Even so, I have to check up on her,” Pierce said. “I’ll call her in, so be prepared for some anger.”
Bosco sighed. “Always. But I’m telling you, it wasn’t her. So it’s either the guy from Spokane or somebody else who randomly attacked Marlie.”
Pierce studied Marlie. “Run me through everything he said again.”
She did, holding tightly to Bosco’s hand, their earlier argument forgotten.
Pierce sat back. “So he wanted to kidnap you, it sounds like. Then when Bosco broke in, the assailant decided to kill you.” He shook his head. “The only way that makes sense is if that he wanted to ask you something. What could you know that somebody is afraid you know?” Pierce was sharp, that was for sure.
“Nothing,” she whispered. “I teach languages at the college and haven’t even started work yet. I don’t know anything that would get somebody in trouble.”
“Okay,” Pierce said quietly. “Alternative theory. Somebody wanted to take you, maybe dispose of your body elsewhere, but when Bosco broke in, they had to attempt to kill you. If this is about Bosco, then his arrival would’ve changed things.” Pierce watched Bosco carefully. “In theory one or theory two, somebody wants her dead. If the connection is to you, who would want her dead, Albertini?”
“Nobody,” Bosco growled. “The only altercation I’ve had lately was with Turner Johnson, and you’ve cleared him. What if he hired one of his buddies to kidnap her?”
“Why?” Marlie asked. “That doesn’t make sense. I had coffee, lunch, and then one true date with the guy, really. It wasn’t that much fun, and once he sobered up the next day, he apologized for being a jerk.”
Pierce nodded. “There isn’t much time there for the guy to become obsessed to the point of having her kidnapped or killed.” He rubbed his broad hand over his eyes. “This doesn’t make sense. If somebody is obsessed with you, they wouldn’t want you dead. Kidnapped, sure. But dead, no.”
Marlie swallowed over the lump in her throat.
Pierce leaned forward. “All right. Run me through the entire night again. And again. We’re going to figure this out.”
Chapter11
Bosco tossed the pizza box into the fridge and threw a treat to the dog. He’d picked up Fabio from Knox on the way home from the police station, figuring that having the dog close would make for a good alarm system. Plus, the canine seemed to calm Marlie, so that was a plus. “You didn’t eat,” he murmured.
She shrugged, looking bewildered and fragile sitting on his sofa with the scratch across her neck. “I’m not really hungry.”
Neither was he, truth be told. “We’re going to find this guy.”
She looked up, her pretty eyes clouded. “Do you think the detective was right in that this is about you somehow?”
“I don’t see how.” He crossed around the sofa, stepped over the dog, and sat next to her. “I also don’t see how it’s about you. I think it’s connected to the guy terrorizing Spokane, but I can’t figure out how he saw you.” He ran his fingers through her hair. “Unless he was at the Clumsy Penguin that first night and followed us from there.” It was the only thing that made sense, but it didn’t feel right. None of this did.
“Are you still mad at me?” She leaned into his touch, her foot buried beneath the huge mutt on the floor.
He eyed the dog. “I wasn’t mad at you.” His phone buzzed, and he lifted it to his ear. “Albertini.”
“I cannot believe you called the police on me,” Jennie yelled.
