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Amanda brought up the tool and typed in the talent manager’s name. His name appeared fifty-five times. “Katherine must have really suspected him.” She scrolled to the most recent entry among the results. She pressed a fingertip to the screen.
“From Friday two weeks ago,” Trent said.
She read the entry.
Coffey was right there. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. In my grocery store, and he didn’t seem surprised at all to see me. He didn’t say a word as I made myself walk past him. Is he why I’ve been feeling watched? Like my skin is crawling? Just when I think I have my mind fixed on a suspect, it’s as if they shuffle and rearrange themselves, each one fighting for priority.
Amanda backed out of the document, powered down the laptop, and shut the lid. “I say we have our next stop.”
FIFTY-THREE
Amanda had called Malone and briefed him while Trent drove. Now they were walking up to the house on file for Thad Coffey, retired talent manager. He was sixty-two and married to a woman named Noreen, who was sixty. The house was all decked for Christmas. Lights were strung along the eaves and wrapped a cedar tree on the front lawn. A blowup Santa Claus lay collapsed on the ground. The fan blower was likely on a timer that ran it during the night and early morning hours.
A wreath with red and gold baubles and pine cones adorned the front door. When Trent stepped onto the Merry Christmas doormat, Santa bellowed, “Ho ho ho!”
All the decorations made Amanda feel insignificant if she drew up her own beside them. There was no comparison. Zoe’s Popsicle-stick Santa was all that smacked of seasonal cheer at her house. Amanda would turn that around, after she got Katherine home safely, and once she talked with Logan.
Trent rang the doorbell and a rendition of “O Holy Night” radiated from inside the home.
“Nice touch.” She regretted her compliment when she thought of the inhabitant. The man who lived here might have raped and murdered a young girl. He may also be behind two more recent murders and Katherine’s abduction.
A foot propped the door open, and a woman tucked her head out. “Thing sticks like crazy.” She was wearing a red apron, and the house smelled of gingerbread.
Has she no shame in making me feel like Scrooge? The thought whizzed through Amanda’s head.
Trent held up his badge. “Prince William County PD, ma’am. We’d like to speak with Thad Coffey. Your husband, I presume?”
“He is, but why do you want to speak with him?” Her forehead furrowed.
“It’s a police matter, so it would be much better if we could speak with him directly,” Trent said matter-of-factly.
“Very well. Come inside, you’re making my house cold.” She stepped back and allowed them room to enter.
The warm house amplified the smell of gingerbread. It had been heavenly on the doorstep but was intoxicating inside.
She called up the stairs, “Thad! You have company!” Back to them, she added, “He should be here in a minute. I must go check on my cookies.” With that, she was off to the rear of the house.
While waiting, Amanda took in the decorations from the entry. The staircase was tucked on the right side, and the railing was wrapped with garland speckled with spray snow, pine cones, and red berries.
Thad stomped across overhead and started down the stairs. “Who is it, Noreen?” He stopped at the sight of them. “Who are you?” He’d aged since the picture on Katherine’s marker board. The passage of time had drawn his hairline back and thinned out his eyebrows. Wrinkles carved deep grooves around his mouth and eyes.
Amanda and Trent both held up their badges.
Thad’s head dipped forward, lifted up. “Please don’t tell me you’re here about Julie Gilbert.”
“We’re not here about her.” Trent was doing a good job of going with the flow of conversation and not showing any surprise. Though the fact Thad mentioned the girl’s name could be a good assumption on his part. But it was his delivery that made his statement seem almost threatening.
“What if we were?” Amanda put in.
Thad huffed. “Just get to the point.”
“We’re here about Katherine Graves,” she pushed back.
“Oh, bother. She’s been determined to ruin my life ever since that child was murdered.”
His callous indifference woke up her fiery temper. “You say that like it’s nothing. She was six years old. Her murder ruined your life? I’d like to know how.” She might be coming across hot, but violence against children was her trigger.
“You make me sound callous.”
