Page 37 of The Last Close Call

“We’ll get this back to you.” He held up the envelope.

“Take your time. Or you know what? Keep it.”

“Keep it?”

“Keep all of it. Even the jewelry.” She shuddered. “If there’s even a chance he touched it, I never want to see it again.”

***

Jack had no trouble spotting her. Joy Kendall sat at one of the umbrella tables, two Yorkies at her feet, peering down at her phone from behind a pair of oversize black sunglasses.

Jack approached the café, sidestepping a tourist on an electric scooter. It was the first sunny day in weeks, and the sidewalks were crammed with people eagerly taking advantage of a break in the rain.

“Joy?”

Her head jerked up. “Hi.” She looked around. “I hope you don’t mind. They were so crowded, I went ahead and jumped in line.”

“No problem.” Jack pulled out the chair across from her. “May I?”

“Of course. Don’t you want anything?”

“I’m good.”

He lowered himself into the chair and the dogs scurried over. He reached down to pet them as they sniffed at his shoes.

“Boys, no.” She gave their leashes a tug.

“They’re fine.” He looked up, and she was watching him from behind the eyewear equivalent of a Cadillac Escalade with black-tinted windows. Jack was good at reading faces, but that was going to be tough with this particular interview.

“Did I catch you after a run?” she asked.

“Before.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.”

“No problem.” Jack leaned back in the chair, trying to keep things casual. When she’d called him twenty minutes ago, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to come to the police station and instead suggested a downtown coffee shop. Jack wasn’t sure what she was worried about. He was in sweatpants and sneakers, so no one passing by would have reason to think she was talking to a cop. Then again, maybe she was worried about someone spotting her with a man who wasn’t her husband.

She reached for her cardboard coffee cup but didn’t take a sip. “I’ve hardly slept in two nights.” She blew out a breath. “This whole thing really...” She trailed off, seeming unsure of how to get around to the topic she’d come to discuss.

He waited.

“Those damn DNA kits.” She shook her head. “I’ve been dreading this for years. I always thought I might get a phone call. Or maybe a knock at the door. I never dreamed it would be a homicide detective.”

Jack watched her, keeping his face blank. She’d jumped to homicide—which maybe wasn’t surprising given that he’d told her his investigation was serious, or he wouldn’t have involved her. She had no way of knowing he was investigating a string of unsolved rape cases—cases she’d no doubt heard about. Every woman living in Austin back then knew about WCR. The man’s rampage had dominated the news for two long years.

Jack could have clarified things with her, and if she had said something Thursday at her house, he might have. But as of his phone call with Heidi, Jack now knew that the link between his cold cases and the recent San Antonio homicide was real. The UNSUB was active again and he’d escalated to murder.

Joy broke off a chunk of muffin and held it under the table for the dogs. “Sorry.” She broke off another chunk. “This is harder than I thought.”

Jack nodded, wishing Rowan were here. So far, her instincts about this woman were right on.

She wiped her hands on a napkin. “It’s just a lot, you know?”

“I understand.”

She took another deep breath. “The thing is, when all this happened, I was so young.”

“How old were you?”

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