What She Found (Tracy Crosswhite #9)(15)

Tracy exited the freeway on Stewart Street and maneuvered to Denny Way, where she found street parking, a minor miracle, in an area blocked off to accommodate construction. The Seattle Times occupied one of the few remaining industrial-looking, three-story stucco buildings. It wouldn’t last much longer, given the high-rise construction going up all around it.

Tracy checked in at a desk on the ground floor to receive clearance, slapped a visitor’s badge on her coat lapel, and took an elevator to the third floor. Jorgensen met her when she stepped into the lobby. He had an affable, welcoming face. Balding in a horseshoe pattern, what remained of his brown hair was laced with gray and matched his goatee. He wore jeans and a plaid, short-sleeve shirt.

“Detective Crosswhite,” he said.

“Thank you for making time to talk with me,” Tracy said.

Jorgensen offered coffee or tea, which Tracy declined. He gestured for her to follow and spoke over his shoulder as they passed by cubicles. She heard the voices of people on the telephone and the clatter of keyboards. “I was surprised to receive your call,”

Jorgensen said over the din.

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve spoken to Anita Childress at some length.”

“Recently?”

Jorgensen stepped into a glass-enclosed conference room and shut the door behind Tracy, eliminating the newsroom noise. They moved to cream-colored leather chairs at a conference room table.

“Multiple occasions over the years,” he said. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table. Tracy sat to his left, with an empty chair between them. “I feel sorry for her, being in a state of limbo like this. I know Anita’s motivation.” He smiled. “What’s Seattle PD’s motivation for looking at the file after so many years?”

“I’m working cold cases,” Tracy said, matter-of-factly.

“I’m familiar with you and your record, Detective Crosswhite. We covered the Curry Canyon and North Seattle investigations. I’m just curious if anything, in particular, has caused you to reopen this case?”

Jorgensen was a newsman and as such, clearly interested in the news, specifically whether there might be an evolving story about the decades-long disappearance of a Seattle newspaper reporter.

“Nothing specific,” she said.

“I was wondering if it could be related to the bodies discovered in Curry Canyon. I thought maybe they found Lisa’s body.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“I feel like we lost one of our own, you know?”

“I do,” Tracy said.

Jorgensen sat back. “So then . . . What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to start by having you tell me about Lisa Childress.

What type of reporter was she?”

Jorgensen smiled like the Cheshire cat. “She was a pistol.”

“How so?”

“Well . . . how do I put it? Her reporting won the P-I three Pulitzers, but she didn’t give a crap about awards.”

Tracy could relate. “No?”

“Lisa had a nose for a news story and the determination of a bloodhound. She didn’t let up until the article went to print.”

Tracy detected a hesitancy in Jorgensen’s voice. “But . . .”

Jorgensen folded his hands on the table. “But . . . corralling her was next to impossible, and frustrating.”

“In what way?”

“In every way.” Jorgensen repeated much of what Anita Childress had told Tracy, that her mother hated deadlines and rarely told her editors specifics about what she worked on or her sources.

“Many times, I found myself either scrambling to make space on the front page or trying to fill a last-minute hole. I knew I could count on her for a great story. I just didn’t know when I’d get it.”

“Her daughter believes she was chasing a lead the night she disappeared.”

“I know. And I’ll tell you what I told Anita. Because of the nature of this thing—being questioned by the detectives several times all those years ago, and then more recently by Anita, I recall more about this than I otherwise would. You understand what I’m saying?”

“I think so.”

“I don’t know whether Lisa was meeting a source that night or not. I recall the detective asking me that question. Big guy with an unusual first name.”

“Moss Gunderson.”

“That’s it. I told him what I’m going to tell you. Lisa never told me the names of her confidential sources.”

“Just wondering if she could have pissed somebody off enough to kill her.”

“I’ll leave the speculation to you, Detective.”

“Did she tell you what stories she was pursuing before she disappeared?” Tracy asked in a tone meant to convey she didn’t completely buy that a reporter would keep the news stories she worked on from her editor.

“I’d get tidbits out of her, Detective. Lisa pursued several investigative stories at a time. I suspect Anita told you about some of the stories she believes Lisa was working on, and I can tell you she knows a heck of a lot more than I ever did.”

“What do you recall?”

Again, Jorgensen basically repeated what Anita Childress had told Tracy.

“Anita said she might have been working undercover to try to catch the Route 99 Killer,” Tracy said, hoping to get Jorgensen’s opinion.