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“After I met with Vanessa and canvassed the neighborhood yesterday. It was on the driver’s floorboard when I went back to my car. I was away from my car for an hour, maybe an hour and a half. It was locked when I left it. Unlocked when I opened the car door.”
“Plenty of time to break into your car. No one saw anything?”
“I didn’t ask. They barely talked to me before I discovered the photo. They sure weren’t going to talk to me after.”
His jaw tightened. “So the stalker followed you to the Petermans’ house.”
I flinched when he said stalker, wanting to deny it, but I think I was past the point of plausible deniability. “Or they were already waiting in Ava’s neighborhood, and I missed them.”
“And the envelope?”
I closed my eyes to center myself, then opened them. “It wasn’t in my car when I left my parents’ house to head to the police station.”
“So someone broke into your car in the police station parking lot.” He shook his head. “Ballsy.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, my heart beating fast as everything hit me at once.
I had a stalker, and maybe the chief was right that I was responsible for Ava’s kidnapping, just not how he’d inferred. Eddie Johnson was possibly kidnapped and murdered because of me. And now James Malcolm knew my secrets, which meant he had no incentive to tell me any of his.
“They knew you were showing up at the station,” Malcolm finally said. “Who did you tell?”
“I didn’t tell anyone other than you and Hale.” I shot him a snide glare as a new thought hit me. “Maybe you arranged this.”
“Why would I bother stealing a photo from your house in Little Rock last fall?” he asked in disgust. “I didn’t even know who you were.”
“You said there were officers on the take in Little Rock,” I said, turning in my seat to hold his gaze. “And Louise thinks I was set up. Maybe you had something to do with it.”
He released a bitter laugh. “Someone has an imagination. I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were then.”
“You’re telling me you didn’t see my name in the news?” I countered.
“Of course I did, but it never would have occurred to me to hunt you down and steal a photo.”
He had a point. Whoever took it had some kind of connection to my sister’s kidnapping.
Malcolm must have been thinking the same thing. “Did they catch the guy who murdered your sister?”
“He wasn’t very careful. I got a good look at him and gave them a description of his face, hair, and what he was wearing. They found him a week after she was found.”
“Where is the pervert now?” he ground out.
His tone surprised me. “In prison. He pled guilty.”
“You’re sure he’s still there?”
“I checked after the break-in. And then again a couple of weeks ago.” I shook my head. “Someone would have notified me if he’d escaped or been released, which would be impossible since he received life in prison with no parole.”
“He got any family?”
“You mean to seek revenge? I don’t think so. He wasn’t married and didn’t have any kids. Last I heard, his family wrote him off. When he confessed, they were horrified. They publicly apologized for what he did.”
“Who else would be interested in your sister’s kidnapping?”
“Half the town,” I said with a sigh, then squared my shoulders and lifted my brow. “Now your turn to share. Why the interest in Eddie Johnson?”
His jaw clenched and his eyes shuttered. “I told you he’s a customer.”
“Fuck off,” I snapped. “You either tell me why or I’ll do this on my own.” I had to admit I didn’t want to do it on my own. I suspected he had resources that could help—like his ability to find out the makes and models of both Eddie’s and the LaRues’ vehicles within minutes—but I refused to be Malcolm’s bitch, in any sense of the word.
