Chapters (87)
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT
- DEDICATION
- CONTENTS
- START READING
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER EIGHTY
- EPILOGUE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
“We’ll need to get out a BOLO,” I say. “Statewide, I think. He could be anywhere.”
“I agree,” Montrose says. “Let’s get the tech up to process the scene here. No sign of Sophie, but you never know what they’ll vacuum up.”
“What about the dog?” I say as we shut the thin door to the mobile home and seal it with crime-scene tape.
“What dog?” he says.
I make a face. “I get it. But we need to call Animal Control.”
“Fine, cat lady.”
Within the hour Mason County has issued a Be On the Lookout for James Edward Coyle, forty-nine, and his truck, a red Ford F-250 with Washington plates. He is wanted in conjunction with the abduction and murder of Sophie Warner and should be approached with extreme caution.
These days things only move fast or faster. Within thirty minutes of the BOLO our PIO had already fielded four media calls—including Linda London, who is always on the hunt for clickbait stories.
Stories start on Twitter and then jump to Facebook and finally onto the electronic pages of legacy media sites. Everyone with a pair of thumbs and a smartphone pounces to express shock and outrage and joy, as if their take on a case matters to those investigating it. The truth is, sometimes it does. Sometimes the right individual will see a story, and we’ll get the call that will end in justice. That’s always the hope.
I’ve thought of calling him many times since the interview. But I didn’t. Now I have to. He picks up on the first ring.
And he blasts me straightaway.
“I saw the news on my feed just now. You should have called me, Lee. It’s not right. Sophie was my wife. I should be the first to know.”
He seems anxious, and I don’t blame him, but that’s not how it works.
“I couldn’t,” I say. “But I’m calling now.”
I hear him take a breath. “You really think he’s the guy?”
I can only imagine how he’s feeling. “Not sure,” I say. “But we’re going to bring him in.”
When we find him, I think.
“Crap,” Adam says abruptly. “I’m at work, and I have another call. I have to take it. Call me with any updates, Lee. Okay?”
I promise that I will.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
ADAM