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- Author: M. Hilliard
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Vince was next. This one went to voicemail, too. I waited for the beep.
“I found the flash drive and I know what’s on it. Call me.”
It didn’t take long.
“It’s me,” Vince said, sounding weary, “where did you find it?”
“Where Joanna hid it before she died,” I said, “because she knew someone was after her.”
Silence.
“That can’t be right,” he said, “that’s horrible.”
He sounded both stunned and appalled. If he was faking it, he was a better actor than I’d given him credit for.
“It looks that way,” I said.
“Where was it?”
“I’ll get to that, but first I have some questions. The day Carol Douglas drowned, you said you and Matthew were practicing tracking. Were you together the whole time?”
“No,” he said, still sounding confused, “that’s not how it works.”
“I’m a city girl. Spell it out for me.”
“We took turns. He was going to be tracker first, so I got a head start and he had to follow my route. We started from the footbridge.”
“How long were you apart?”
“A few minutes.”
“How many minutes?” I was impatient. “Three? Five? Ten?”
“Five or ten. Not quite ten. It’s hard to remember.”
“And when you heard the screams, you ran toward the kill?”
“Yes. I couldn’t tell at first where they were coming from, but after the second scream I could tell, so I started running.”
He’d said that before. At least he was consistent.
“How long did it take you to get there?”
“Not long. I had doubled back on my own trail to try to confuse Matthew, so I was close to where I started. That’s why we got there at the same time. He was coming off the bridge as I ran down the bank.”
“And that’s when he pulled you back?”
“He didn’t pull me back. He yelled to me. He was on the other side. She was closer to the other side, I think. He was wading in as I left. Why is this important, Greer? Why are you doing this?”
“Because Joanna thought it was important, and now she’s dead, Vince. Because someone may have tried to kill you, and someone nearly killed me. Now answer my questions.”
I was relentless.
“Who else was in the woods that day, Vince? Anyone? Another child, or an adult? Anyone who could have seen all this?”
“No, at least, I don’t think so. The first person I saw was Mrs. Douglas.”
“And then the police.”
“Yes.”
“When Joanna asked about it, you told her what you told me the first time? Without all this detail?”
“She didn’t ask all these questions.”
But she would have eventually.
“Between the time you talked to the police and when Joanna asked, you really never told anyone? No one at all?”
There was silence, and then a sigh.
“I’d promised, but I started having nightmares. It was years later, but I started dreaming about it.”
“That’s understandable. You were a child when it happened. You needed to talk to someone. So, who did you tell?”
“Felicity,” Vince said. The rest came out in a rush.
“It was when we were dating, in high school. I started having the dreams. One night we were both a little drunk. She’d taken a bottle of wine from her parents. She knew about the nightmares and said I’d feel better if I talked about it. She asked a lot of questions, just like you did, and I answered her. But I swore her to secrecy. She said she’d never repeat it.”
“Felicity and Joanna were spending a lot of time together. Do you think they talked about it?”
“Joanna would have come back to me on it, so no, I’m sure they didn’t.”
That part didn’t fit, but the rest did.
“What about the drive?” he said, “Where was it?”
“In the archives. The police have it now. Have they talked to you yet today?”
“No.”
“They will.” I hung up.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I sat and replayed the conversation. It was almost, but not quite, what I had thought. Almost there, but I was missing something. Maybe Jennie had made progress. She’d be livid if she found out I’d talked to Vince, but if I could hand her the murderer, figuratively at least, I might be in the clear. I sent a text.
Back in the reading room, I found the usual Friday afternoon rush had begun, a little earlier than usual due to the increasingly threatening skies. I went through my ritual of hiding the evidence and spotting the undercover cop, then began dispensing recommendations, books, and DVDs. I gave it only half my attention; my mind was still spinning through various scenarios, trying to make one work.
Half an hour before we closed, Jilly let me know she was leaving, but that Anne Marie would be here until we closed if I needed her. Fifteen minutes after that, the page told me she’d finished everything she could while the library was open, including the second floor, and would it be okay if she left before the rain started, since she’d ridden her bike?
I checked with Dory, who looked around and gave a nod. Everything was under control, and there was always Anne Marie. I told the girl to go.
My phone buzzed. I stepped into the hall. It was a text from Jennie.
“Developments. On my way to Vince. Pick you up in 30 min. Have someone wait with you.”
I responded with an ok and got busy with closing. I made a sweep of the building, veering into the raven room when I spotted a wrapper on the floor. Who had been in here?
Scooping up the wrapper, I gave the windows a quick check and spun slowly to see if everything else was in order. The stuffed raven caught my eye, his expression as inscrutable as always.
“What am I missing?”
He remained silent, but his compatriots on the lawn rose with indignant cries. I looked out.
Crows. Too many and too small to be ravens.
They all look alike to me.
Now where had I heard that?
“Ms. Hogan?
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