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“He checks the boxes for both means and opportunity. He’s the one constant in this case.”
I gaze up at the house, remembering the feeling I had that Hoyt was withholding something from me.
“Alright, fine. Come on.”
Amos Hoyt answers the door on the second ring, wearing a long-sleeved flannel shirt, slacks, boots, and a newsboy cap. He’s either just returned from running errands or has been expecting us all along. Something inside me assumes the latter.
“Detective Velky.” His calloused, gnarled hand slips into mine. Then, he turns his focus to Kellan, eyes narrowed with curiosity.
Kellan stretches out his hand. “Detective Kellan Palmer. I hear you’re a marine.”
Hoyt’s bushy brow cocks with interest. They shake hands. “Yes, sir.”
“Same.”
And just like that, I no longer exist.
Hoyt invites us inside, and while he and Kellan fall into easy, casual conversation about their time in the military, I stay a few steps behind, scanning each room as we pass—looking for what, I’m not sure.
Hoyt leads us to the kitchen. “Would either of you like some coffee? I just put on a pot.”
Simultaneously, I say no, while Kellan says yes.
Always accept hospitality from a witness, it makes them more comfortable, I once told Kellan, my own words slapping me in the face.
After pouring Kellan a cup of tar-black coffee, Hoyt leans against the counter and we get down to business. Kellan takes the lead, which is just fine with me.
I listen as Hoyt recites the same story he told me when I interviewed him the night before. Exactly, almost word for word. Except…
“I do remember something else, in addition to what I told Detective Velky last night…” Hoyt flickers a glance to me, shifting his weight.
“What’s that?” Kellan asks.
“I do remember Alyssa saying something along the lines that she thought someone was following her.”
“What?” I snap, stepping away from the window and closer to the conversation.
Hoyt nods. “Sorry, I just remembered.” He shifts again. He’s nervous. I glance at Kellan who shoots me a look—Cool it. I’ve got this.
“Who was following her?” Kellan asks.
“Don’t know. I don’t think she knew.”
“Tell us exactly what she said.”
“Exactly that. Nothing else really. She said that she thought she saw someone in the woods, staring at her house, and the same person again in the parking lot of the grocery store, then at the post office, and a few more times in the woods.”
I blink, shocked and angered that he didn’t tell me this during our initial meeting.
“Did she describe the person? Man or woman? Height? Age?”
“She wasn’t sure, that’s all she said.”
I am literally biting the inside of my cheek with frustration.
“Did she know what this person drives?” Kellan asks.
“No—I asked that specifically. She said she always just saw them in the distance.”
