Jed had spent the morning with Hannah at the sheriff’s station, trying to convince them the two murders and the warning to Hannah were linked by the dead finches. He didn’t want to do it, but in the end, he gave up the finch he’d found at Stephanie’s house to the Seattle PD. At least they took him seriously now, but they weren’t going to allow a PI to solve this case—especially a PI with a record, expunged or not.
His foot pressed against the accelerator, and his truck lurched forward. He needed to get to Hannah’s house before Maggie delivered the first of her little patients. He didn’t need a repeat of Sheldon’s public assessment of his character.
He squeezed the steering wheel. How did Zoey end up hating him so much just because he never returned her interest? She’d never had a chance with him, and once Hannah had returned from her first year of college, any remote possibility that he and Zoey did have grew even more distant. As far as he remembered, he’d let Zoey down gently, never led her on and had even sent a few of his friends her way. What a mistake.
He’d learned later from his defense team that Zoey had had some mental health issues. Those issues had never come out in the trial. His lawyer at the time had wanted to play it safe and not dig into Zoey’s personal life too deeply. Didn’t want to blame the victim... except he’s the one who was the victim.
He rolled into Hannah’s driveway, pulling behind her car. Had the person who’d left the bird on her porch been watching him as he’d left her house last night? He hadn’t seen any other cars on the road when he’d driven away, but then, he’d been distracted.
The forest ringing this house provided good cover for anyone wanting to do harm here. Her security system had been no help. After the stranger had broken the porch lights, he’d been able to creep up to the house from the forest side. Hannah’s security footage showed a shadowy figure in indistinguishable black clothing, dark gloves and a hoodie, crouching down by her door and then slipping away. That person could’ve been anyone.
He parked and dragged the hardware store’s plastic bag from the passenger seat. He noted the stepladder Hannah had left for him to reach the light fixtures above the high door. She’d already told him she’d be busy prepping the children’s space in her office.
She’d called him first thing this morning, and he’d chided her for not contacting him when she’d found the bird last night. He had probably still been in his truck, driving back to the Mitchells’, when she found the bird. He could’ve turned around right then, maybe giving him a chance to find the perpetrator.
She had called him even before she notified the police, though, and he’d had to convince her to do so. Now the birds had finally made it onto Seattle Homicide’s radar.
He’d already talked to Michael about the finches, but Michael didn’t have a clue. Said Stephanie would’ve been opposed to keeping birds in a cage and never would’ve owned them.
He grabbed the stepladder from where it leaned against the house and set it up on the porch. With gloved hands, he removed the broken stubs of the previous bulbs.
Hannah’s security cam had caught something—most likely a rock thrown to break the bulbs—tripping the sensor lights seconds before it went dark. He hadn’t found anything that fit the bill and neither had the police. The perp most likely took the object with him when he left or threw it into the forest. He might have been able to grab it when he crouched down to leave the dead bird on Hannah’s welcome mat, as Siggy watched from the window.
Too bad the cat couldn’t talk.
Jed unwrapped the new bulbs and screwed them into the sockets. He’d suggest that Hannah replace the fixtures with some that protected the bulbs so this couldn’t happen again.
He hopped off the last rung of the ladder, his jaw clenched. It had better not happen again. What did this killer have to do with Hannah? He must know she was treating the kids. Did that mean the kids might be able to identify him?
If so, they were in more danger than Hannah.
“Thank you for doing that.”
He cranked his head around to the sound of Hannah’s voice, and she floated toward him, her long skirt swishing around her legs, her low-heeled shoes crunching the gravel that ringed the flower beds. She’d twisted her brown hair into a braid that hung over her shoulder. She could be some child’s mom volunteering in the classroom. Must be a look she cultivated for the kids. He liked it.
“I was just thinking that you should get different fixtures.” He pointed to the lights. “Something that protects the bulbs.”
She squinted at the bulbs. “Maybe, but we both know nothing would’ve stopped my visitor last night. He was determined to leave that poor bird on my doorstep.”
“He obviously wants the detectives to tie the crimes together. Was probably disappointed they hadn’t done so already.” Jed folded the stepladder and offered to carry it back to the toolshed.
Hannah led him around the side of the house to the landscaped backyard with its covered patio, gas grill and wet bar. Did Hannah entertain like her parents did? He’d spent several days over the summer months eating burgers and hot dogs and splashing in the pool with the rest of Hannah’s friends from school. Her parents had always welcomed him—until his relationship with Hannah had made a turn toward the romantic.
He followed her to the toolshed at the edge of the property, near the line of the forest. A small creek bubbled beyond the lush lawn where the Maddoxes’ hospitality had extended with Adirondack chairs placed in the water, so the adults could sip their alcoholic beverages while the kids frolicked in the water. Not that his parents were ever invited to a Maddox soiree.
“Earth to Jed.” Hannah snapped her fingers. “You wanna take off your shoes, roll up your jeans and plant your feet in the creek?”
His gaze darted toward the door of the toolshed gaping open. “That does sound good about now, but I know you’re expecting company.”
“I am.” She reached into the toolshed and tugged on the chain to illuminate the space. “You do know not to talk about the kids I’m seeing today, right? I really shouldn’t have mentioned at all they that were my patients, but I figure everyone in town must know, anyway.”
“Whoever left that bird knows.” He hoisted the stepladder and carried it into the shed, which looked better than some houses on the island.
Twisting her fingers in front of her, she said, “Like I mentioned, everyone in town knows, so that doesn’t narrow it down.”
He swung the door of the shed closed and snapped the padlock on the outside. “At least it got the attention of the cops.”
“I got the distinct impression they felt foolish after not taking you seriously when you found the second bird.”
“Maybe, but that’s not my intent.” Jed clapped his hands together to dislodge dirt from his work gloves. “If they figure I’m trying to one-up them, they’re not going to throw me any bones at all.”
Hannah chewed on her bottom lip. “I might have a contact for you at the sheriff’s department. I’ll try to keep you in the loop.”
“I don’t need to figure out this thing on my own. I’d be happy to give them anything I find—like the bird. I just want to help Michael and get justice for those two women.” Even though Zoey had denied him justice.
When they reached the front of the house, Jed collected the trash from installing the bulbs and tossed it into the back of his truck. He turned toward Hannah, who was on the porch. “We still on for tonight?”
“Tonight?” She shaded her eyes with her hand. “What’s tonight?”
“Zoey’s place. You do still have the keys, right? I didn’t see you returning them this morning at the station.”
“I forgot about the keys, and I don’t remember making a date for that.” She folded her arms, rocking back on her heels.
“We have one now. I’ll even buy you dinner after.” He ducked into his truck and started the engine without waiting for her answer. Her grin and shake of the head were answer enough.
It seemed as if Hannah couldn’t resist him any more than he could her—even if it led them to disaster.
“FINCHES CAN MAKE good pets, as long as they’re domesticated. They have a pretty song, too.” Charlie pinged a cage with her finger, and the yellow bird within pinned her with his beady eyes.
Jed leaned against the counter of the pet shop, the chirping, rustling birds giving him a headache. “You don’t recall anyone buying up finches recently, do you?”
“No.” Charlie moved to the next cage and shoved a peanut through the mesh into the waiting claws of a hamster. “Finches are so common on the island, we don’t even carry them in the store. Parakeets and cockatiels are more popular here. I’m sure you can find them in Seattle. Do you want the name of a store there?”
The last thing Jed wanted was a caged bird. He held out his hands. “No, I was just wondering if anyone on the island kept them.”
“I’m sure they do.” She shrugged, and then turned toward the jingling bell on the door of the shop. “Can I help you with anything else, Jed?”
“No, I’ll just look around.” Charlie, an old friend from school, didn’t seem particularly interested in finches. Not everyone on the island knew about the dead finches at the crime scenes.
He wandered around the store for a few more minutes, poking his fingers into various cages containing rodents and reptiles. The store didn’t carry cats or dogs, which spared him any feelings of guilt. Otherwise, he might’ve walked out of there with more pets than he could handle.
He’d had a dog at the time he was incarcerated, but Bowie had died when he was still locked up. Now he’d have to make do with Siggy.
“I know you!”
Jed’s gaze bounced from the fish tank to a greasy-haired guy with big muscles and a paunch, pointing a finger at him. Jed’s muscles coiled, and the corner of his eye twitched as he turned to face the man.
The guy dropped his arm and tried to suck in his gut. “You’re Swain. Did time.”
Jed continued to stare at the man, narrowing his eyes and setting his jaw. His hands curled into fists.
Shoving a hand through the lank strands of his hair, the man took a step back. “I—I’m not going off on you, man. I been there, done that with that bitch.”
A light bulb popped on in Jed’s head. This had to be Chase Thompson, Zoey’s ex. He rolled his shoulders. “Nice way to refer to your ex-girlfriend who’s just been murdered.”
Chase snorted and swiped the back of his hand beneath his nose. “Didn’t think you’d care, of all people.”
“You’d be wrong.”
“That b—girl stole money from me. Stole drugs, too. Looks like she finally crossed the wrong person.”
The knots in Jed’s gut tightened. “Yeah, well, if I were you, I wouldn’t be talking ill of the dead. I heard the cops are still looking at you.”
“I got an alibi.” Chase’s lip curled.
As Jed sauntered toward Chase, the other man’s eyes widened, and he squared his shoulders. Jed brushed past him and said over his shoulder, “Everyone’s got an alibi, dude.”
Jed pushed out of the pet store and inhaled a deep breath of Dead Falls air, a mixture of seawater and pine. If that’s the type of person Zoey had been hanging out with and stealing from, she’d been playing a dangerous game.
He glanced at his phone. Hannah hadn’t contacted him yet, but she must be done with her sessions by now. He wanted a look inside Zoey’s place for himself—maybe he might even find a clue there as to why she despised him enough to try to ruin his life.
He eyed Chase through the window, talking to Charlie, and then got into his truck. He texted Hannah, asking if she’d finished yet. She answered back immediately that she’d finished with her patients but had some notes to write up.
He’d waited eight years. He could wait a few more hours.