The Trapped Girl (Tracy Crosswhite #4)(23)

Hicks made a mark on the map.

“A debris field of what?” Kins asked.

“Crampons, a pack, water bottle, a few articles of clothing.”

“The husband identified them?”

“He did.”

“But no body?”

“No body.”

“How far a fall is that?” Tracy asked.

“Couple thousand feet.”

“Seems if there was debris there’d be a body,” Kins said.

“Not necessarily. I can tell you what we were thinking at the time. There’s a bergschrund at the base of the wall.” Hicks continued to use the pencil on the topo map.

“A bergschrund?” Tracy asked.

“It’s a German term. It means a large crevasse where the glacier ice separates from the headwall.”

“And the presumption was she fell into that crevasse, never to be found,” Kins said.

Hicks nodded. “No way to get her body out of there. The Willis Wall cleaves constantly. My climbing rangers won’t go there and I don’t blame them.”

“So the perfect place for someone to stage their own death,” Tracy said.

“Apparently, but that’s not what I was thinking at the time.”

“You thought it was the perfect place for the husband to kill his wife,” Kins said.

“No reason for her to put on her crampons and other gear just to go to the bathroom.”

“Makes sense,” Tracy said.

Hicks sat and leaned back. “I was convinced he shoved her over the side—right up until I came in late yesterday and saw that flier on my computer you sent out. I don’t forget those missing on the mountain,” he said. “They’re permanently imprinted on my mind.”

“So what do you think happened now?” Kins asked.

“Now? Now, I don’t know what to think. But I’ll tell you this. She didn’t make it off that mountain on her own. No way. Somebody had to have helped her. Hell, the husband could have been in on it for the insurance money. The Pierce County detective said they took out a policy and there were problems in the marriage,” Hicks said.

Tracy had made contact with the Pierce County Sheriff’s Office that morning. They had an appointment to speak to the investigating detective from the Major Crimes Division later that day.

“I spoke to the detective this morning. He said the husband was a person of interest,” Tracy said.

“Maybe.” Hicks picked up Andrea Strickland’s picture. “Thing is, I don’t know now if this exonerates him or implicates him.” Hicks looked up at the red X he’d circled. “But I guess that’s not my job anymore. My job is done; looks like yours is just getting started.”





CHAPTER 8


I’d had more than my share of doubts about Genesis, but Graham had been so optimistic, so sure of its success, that I had finally relented, despite my reservations. I don’t want to say Graham wore me down, or that I caved to his repeated attempts at persuading me, but it had become so unbearable at home I knew we couldn’t go on the way we had been. Graham would come home and slowly begin with the numbers, then tell me he’d spoken to another dispensary in Washington and about how much money we would make. When I tried to question his numbers, he would dismiss me or accuse me of not supporting him. Then he would either leave pissed off and not come back until late, or sulk the rest of the evening and not say two words. He needed my income to get the loan.

When I finally said yes, his eyes widened like a man who’d just been told he was cancer free, and he gave me a bear hug and a kiss.

“You’re not going to regret this,” he said, holding me by the shoulders. “This will be the best money we’ve ever invested.” Then he hugged me again.

“I hope you’re right,” I said, trying to smile through my apprehension.

“I can feel this, Andrea.” He paced the apartment. “I can feel this is going to be my big chance.”

We’d lit a strawberry-scented candle and made love that night on the couch, the way we had when first married, like it mattered. Like I mattered.

Thereafter, our lovemaking sessions continued almost nightly, until we went to visit the banker about our business loan. We had to disclose our assets and debts. The only debt I knew of was the lease on Graham’s Porsche. We had no real savings, despite Graham saying we’d save money because he’d moved into my loft. I was uncomfortable with him lying about becoming a partner at BSBT, and already nervous when we sat down on the opposite side of the desk from the banker—a tall, officious-looking man with a head of silver hair who asked a lot of questions and filled out forms.

After about forty-five minutes, he looked rather grave and said to Graham, “You have quite a bit of credit card debt.”

I was not aware of that.

“I had a sick parent and I’m the primary caregiver,” he said. “But that’s over now.”

I was surprised at the ease with which Graham lied.

“Well, do you have a way to pay that down?” the banker asked.

“I’m going to have a substantial increase in income when I make partner,” Graham said.

“When will that be?”

“I believe it’s first of the year,” Graham said.