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The First Death (Columbia River, #4)(57)

Author:Kendra Elliot

If Jerry wasn’t the killer, then did he have motivation to stay silent about who might have killed the women twenty-five years before?

Is he protecting someone?

His wife?

Everything Evan had read indicated Jerry and Suzanne had had a perfect marriage. But his wife was dead. The only reason to continue to stay silent if his wife had done the murders would be to honor his marriage vows or the memory of his wife. Evan believed some men would stay quiet until their deaths, but he doubted child kidnapper Jerry Chiavo was one of those.

Who else was he close to?

Sam Durette had dug deep into Jerry’s family and friends. And come up empty. For as kind as Jerry and his wife, Suzanne, had been purported to be, they’d had no family on this side of the US and no close friends. Just tons of casual acquaintances and foster kids. Sam had conducted more than forty interviews and hadn’t heard a negative word about Jerry.

In frustration and needing distraction, Evan pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Noelle had texted that she’d interviewed Ken Steward’s cousin Eric and his close SAR friend Rees, and she’d emailed Evan her reports. She’d texted that they’d both been annoyed that it’d taken four days for law enforcement to interview them.

“We were working our way to them,” Evan muttered. Noelle’s texts didn’t say that she’d found any smoking guns, so he would read her reports when he got back to Bend. He opened his inbox and scrolled past her emails.

He glared at an email from the prison. “Well, that would have been nice to have before my interview today.” It was Jerry Chiavo’s visitor list. Considering Evan had only filed a request the day before, it was actually quite prompt. He opened the email and halted at the name of the most recent visitor.

Ken Steward had visited Jerry two weeks ago.

“What the hell?”

Evan did a quick scan of the list. It wasn’t long. One more name popped out at him: Rowan Wolff. She’d visited Jerry Chiavo one time five years ago.

He stared at her name for a long moment, his mind spinning.

As an adult, she’d probably had questions for the man who’d kidnapped her and killed her brother, so he really shouldn’t be too surprised. It made sense.

But he was dying to discuss it with her.

Evan wondered if Sam Durette knew she’d visited, but he tucked his curiosity aside. Right now he was more concerned about Ken Steward’s recent visit.

Ken’s name did not reappear on the list. Evan put his hand on the car door handle, ready to head back into the prison and demand Jerry tell him what he’d discussed with Ken Steward.

But he knew he wouldn’t be let back in without a new appointment.

“Shit.” Prison interviews had to be requested via email. He took a few deep breaths and tried to concentrate.

What is the connection between Jerry and Ken?

The day before, he and Sam Durette had unsuccessfully struggled to figure out a connection between Ken’s murder and those of the three young women who’d been killed recently.

Now he was trying to connect Ken with someone who’d murdered women twenty-five years ago. Evan opened his bag on the seat next to him and pulled out the yellow pad. He’d taken no notes while talking with Jerry.

He wrote Ken’s name in the center of the page and circled it. Then he drew a line from there and wrote Jerry Chiavo’s name at the end, making a note that the connection was that Ken had visited Jerry in prison. Then he drew a line from Ken to a circle containing the names of the three recently murdered women. He thought hard, trying to remember the elements of that connection. Sam Durette had come to Evan about the current murders and had been the investigator on the old murders and Rowan’s kidnapping . . . and so Sam knew Ken. It wasn’t a straight line from Ken to the women. It was choppy, with small offshoots, including Sam’s name.

He hesitated and then added Rowan’s name, connecting her to Ken. And to Jerry . . . and to Sam. And she’d found one of the recent victims . . . and one of the old murder cases had been her babysitter.

“Shit.”

On paper it was uglier and more stark than his earlier thoughts about how she was connected with several of his cases.

She grew up here. It’s not a huge community. It makes sense that her path would cross many people’s . . .

He was making excuses. Rowan was in the thick of everything for some reason. The folded newspaper from Ken’s SUV popped into his memory—also Rowan. And it couldn’t have been put there by Ken. Most likely it had been placed by his killer or their accomplice.

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