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When the door opened, Kara turned around. Marcy walked in. “The sheriff wanted to know if you needed me for anything.” She spoke to the room but looked at Kara.
Kara was about to say no, but Catherine said, “Officer, I haven’t received any of the files from Seattle about Nava Software. You were originally with Seattle PD, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Would you mind following up with them? I ran the criminal records, there’s none, but I still need any civil records and if any of the victims had a restraining order at any time and if so, who and why. Our FBI office there has contacted the families and talked to the office staff, but I still have holes. Here, you can take my file—you’ll see what I still need.”
“Happy to.” She took the folder from Catherine.
“Thank you,” Catherine said with a faint smile, then looked back at her stack of information.
Kara left the room with Marcy, mostly because she wanted to get away from Catherine.
“Run again tomorrow?” asked Marcy.
“Sure,” Kara said. “Same time, same place?”
“Great.” She motioned to her jogging clothes. “You didn’t get a chance to change?”
“Nope.”
“John—the sheriff—would have a heart attack if I didn’t put on the uniform.”
“I used to be an undercover cop—you should see some of my outfits.”
“Maybe we can get a drink later. Or tomorrow. I’d love to hear more about your story.”
“Sure. Text me.”
Marcy walked away, and Kara considered going back to the house and taking an hour to recharge and change. Instead, she went back to the conference room. Ryder had asked her earlier to help with Neil Devereaux’s cryptic sticky notes.
She sat down with the files, next to where Ryder was working on Neil’s computer. “How you feeling?” she asked as she pulled out Neil’s calendar.
“As I told everyone else when they asked, I feel good. Clean eating and regular exercise—I bounce back fast.”
“Is that a jab?” she teased.
“I would be the last person to tell you how to live your life.”
“Which makes you my bestie.”
A small sigh came from across the conference table where Catherine was working. Kara chose to ignore her, and focused on the calendar.
Neil had a calendar dedicated to detailing the last year for Mott and Stevens, and he’d circled January 1. No further information on that date—just the circle.
“Ryder,” she said without looking up, “did you run this date in Neil’s computer? January first? Emails, subject or body, as to why it might be important?”
“I haven’t received the report back from Seattle on what they were able to re-create in his emails. I only have two weeks here. They promised they’d have it by the end of today.”
“It was important,” she said. “He circledandstarred it.”
Kara’s phone beeped. She looked down: a message from the Coast Guard personnel office.
After she’d talked to Cal this morning, she’d sent an official request to the Coast Guard to confirm service for both Caleb McKinnon and Marcy Anderson. Military offices were stingy with personnel records, but they were usually good about giving the basics—enrollment, position, service years, terms of discharge. Basic employment stuff.
She opened the email and viewed the summary reports for both McKinnon and Anderson, side by side. They overlapped sixteen months, which confirmed McKinnon’s statement. Marcy had already been serving for a year when Cal was assigned to the Seattle division. Marcy worked in the logistics office, not on a ship. Cal had been a mechanic, worked primarily on dry dock. Neither served directly on a ship, but that didn’t surprise Kara. The Coast Guard had a far broader commission than people usually thought, and required a large support team.
Kara did a little more digging and found a roommate for Marcy during that same time. A twitch in the back of her mind told Kara that Marcy’s stalking situation was something to consider. It might be nothing. It could be a guy blowing something out of proportion. And Kara still had to follow up with Jamie to find out what she really felt when Marcy confronted her about her past with Cal. Maybe it was nothing, casual, anoh, I’m so sorry, I thought you knew...kind of conversation.
