‘You’re in a cold case investigation group but you don’t know who you’re investigating with?’
‘It’s not that unusual.Some members are former law enforcement who don’t want their names associated with unofficial investigations.Others are just private people.’
‘We need full names, addresses, contact information,’ Ella said.‘All of it.’
Sarah twisted in her seat and reached for the backseat.Ripley flattened herself against the door as Webb’s arm shot past her.The journalist rummaged blindly through a bag wedged behind the driver’s seat.
‘Diana Jewell would have all that.She’s the founder.’
Ella asked, ‘What can you tell us about her?’
‘Sorry,’ Sarah muttered to Ripley, who was still pressed against the window.Sarah then extracted a leather-bound notebook, copied something down off her cell and tore the page out.She folded it up and handed it to Ella.‘That’s Diana’s cell and address.She’ll have the full roster, but I really don’t think anyone in our group is capable of this.’
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ Ripley said.
Sarah turned and spoke to Ripley face-to-face for the first time.‘Something tells me you don’t like me, agent.Am I a suspect or something?’
‘Maybe.And no, I don’t like authors or journalists.You happen to be both.’
‘I’m not a journalist anymore, and I’m sorry that we authors aren’t good enough for you.’
‘It’s not authors, it’s true crime authors.Want to make a difference?Become a cop.Anyone can be a detective from behind a keyboard.All you do is make things harder for the actual detectives.’
Ella sensed an escalation on the horizon, and if things got physical, Ella didn’t fancy Sarah’s chances.Ripley might be a grandma, but she still had one of the best right hooks in the business.
‘Mia, come on-’
‘It’s fine,’ Sarah interrupted.‘Your partner’s right.Cops are the real heroes.I couldn’t do what you do, happy?I’m not strong enough, so I do this instead.’
‘Well, you’re not helping anyone.’Ripley pushed the car door open and flung one foot out into the rain.‘Those beach burials in ‘98?I was on the task force.I had to look a 10-year-old in the eye and tell him some sick asshole had drowned his dad.He asked me why, and I said I didn’t know.I doubt that kid ever recovered, and trust me, if you heard that poor boy crying, you wouldn’t be trying to profit from this crap.’
Ripley exited hastily, slammed the car door shut.There was a moment of silence, and the look on Sarah’s face suggested Ripley might have intimidated her into a career change.Sarah clutched the wheel and watched the rain again.
‘Sorry about her,’ Ella said.‘Frank was her mentor at the Bureau.This case has hit her hard.’
‘She was talking about Nathan Taylor, wasn’t she?’
‘Who’s Nathan Taylor?’
Sarah smiled.The first one of the night, it seemed.‘I respect what your partner does for a living.She’s right.I couldn’t do it.’
Ella sensed there was a swerve on the horizon.‘But?’
The author pulled out her cell phone again.‘But she should get all the information before she opens her mouth.’
‘Yeah.That’s Ripley for you.’Ella unlocked the car door.A gust of evening wind nearly took it off its hinges.‘Thank you for your help.We’ll go and speak to Diana Jewell.’
‘Do.If you need me.My cell is on there too.’
Ella stepped into the Florida downpour and the rain instantly plastered her hair to her scalp.She spotted Ripley sheltering beneath the venue’s awning.It was getting late, but investigation didn’t wait.
Webb’s group might just be their roadmap to whoever had put stones where Frank’s eyes should be.Or it might lead them straight to the killer himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Diana Jewell had always divided her life into Before and After.Before the Ferryman case and After.Before retirement and After.Before divorce and After.
Now there would be a new dividing line: Before Frank’s murder and After.