My Sister's Grave (Tracy Crosswhite, #1)(24)

“I did teach, for a year.”

“Cedar Grove High?”

“The Fighting Wolverines,” she said and made claws with her hands.

“Let me guess, chemistry?”

Tracy nodded. “Very good.”

“God, you were such a nerd,” he said.

She displayed mocked indignity. “I was a nerd? What about you?”

“I was a dork. Nerds are smart. There’s a subtle distinction. And are you married, with kids?”

“Divorced,” she said, “No kids.”

“I hope it ended better than mine.”

“I doubt it, but at least mine was short. He felt like I was cheating on him.”

“Felt like?”

“With Sarah.”

Dan gave her a quizzical look.

Sensing the timing to be right, Tracy said, “I left teaching and joined the police academy, Dan. I investigated Sarah’s murder for more than ten years.”

“Oh,” he said.

She reached into her briefcase and pulled out the file she’d brought with her, setting it on the table. “I have Bekins boxes filled with witness statements, trial transcripts, police reports, evidence reports, everything. What I didn’t have was forensics from a grave site. Now I do.”

“I don’t understand. They convicted someone, didn’t they?”

“Edmund House,” she said, “a paroled rapist living with an uncle in the mountains outside of town. House was the low-hanging fruit, Dan. He’d spent six years at Walla Walla after pleading guilty to having sex with a sixteen-year-old high school student when he was eighteen. He was initially charged with first-degree rape, kidnapping, and assault, but a legal question arose over the admissibility of certain evidence found in a shed on the property where he’d kept her against her will.”

“No warrant?”

“The court held that the shed was an extension of the home and the police needed a search warrant. The evidence was tainted and a judge ruled it inadmissible. The prosecutor said he had no choice but to offer the plea. After Sarah disappeared, Calloway targeted House from the start, but he didn’t have any hard evidence to dispute House’s alibi he was at home sleeping the night Sarah disappeared. His uncle was working a graveyard at the mill.”

“So what changed?” Dan asked.



Seven weeks had passed since Sarah’s disappearance when Tracy answered the door to find Roy Calloway outside, looking anxious.

“I need to speak to your father,” he said, stepping past Tracy and knocking on the panel doors to James Crosswhite’s office. When he got no answer, Calloway slid the doors apart. Her father lifted his head from his desk, eyes bloodshot and bleary. Tracy stepped in and removed the open bottle of Scotch and a glass from his desk.

“Roy’s here, Dad.”

Her father took a moment to put on his glasses, squinting at the sharp light filtering in the leaded-glass window. He had not shaved in days. His hair was disheveled and had grown well past the collar of his button-down shirt, which was wrinkled and stained. “What time is it?”

“We have a possible development,” Calloway said. “A witness.”

Her father stood, stumbled, and braced a hand on the desk to regain his balance. “Who?”

“A salesman driving back to Seattle the night Sarah disappeared.”

“He saw her?” James Crosswhite asked.

“He recalls a red truck on the county road. A Chevy stepside. He also recalls a blue truck parked along the shoulder.”

“Why didn’t he come forward earlier?” Tracy asked. The tip line had long been disbanded.

“He didn’t know. He travels twenty-five days out of the month. The trips blur together. He said he recently saw a newscast about the investigation, and it triggered his memory. He called the police station to make a report.”

Tracy shook her head. She’d followed every newscast for seven weeks and had not seen anything recently. “What newscast?”

Calloway gave her a quick glance. “Just a story on the news.”

“What channel?”

“Tracy, please.” Her father raised his hand, cutting her off. “It should be enough, shouldn’t it? It puts his alibi in question.”

“Vance is renewing his request for warrants to search the property and the truck. The Washington State Patrol Crime Lab has a team on standby in Seattle.”

“How soon will we know?” her father asked.

“Within the hour.”

“How could he have not known before?” Tracy asked. “It’s been all over the local news. We posted fliers. Didn’t he see the billboards offering the ten-thousand-dollar reward?”

“He travels,” Calloway said. “He hasn’t been home.”

“For seven weeks?” She turned to her father. “This doesn’t make sense. He’s probably just after the money.” Her father and some others in the town had offered a $10,000 reward for information leading to the arrest and conviction of whoever had taken Sarah.

“Tracy, go home and wait there.” Her father had never referred to the house she’d rented when she took the job teaching at Cedar Grove High as her home. “I’ll call you when we know more.”