Page 107 of Everything She Feared

“My wife likes to walk through it. We go every week or so. It’s beautiful. And I was there that day out of routine, I guess.”

“Routine?” Benton asked.

“Yes, my wife is away, visiting her sister in Maine.”

Benton’s attention focused on the spines of the books filling Croft’s shelves. A set of binoculars stood on one shelf. Nearly all of the books were related to true-crime cases, serial killings, infamous murders, texts on police procedure and forensic investigations.

“That’s quite a collection of books,” Benton said.

“Most of them belong to Dolores, my wife. She’s a fan of all those murder shows,Dateline,48 Hours.”

“And you? Do you read the books and watch the shows with her?” Benton asked.

“No, no, I like puzzles. In fact, I’m working on one of Lake Louise, Alberta, a thousand pieces. We went there for vacation once.”

“Who do we have here?” Benton nodded to another shelf with an array of framed photos.

“My wife, our children and grandchildren. Our son lives in Atlanta, our daughter’s in Cleveland.” Croft picked up one of a girl about the same age as Anna Shaw. “Miranda, our granddaughter. She’s a teenager now and you know how teen girls can be—boy crazy, rebellious.” He replaced the picture. “She’s quite a handful now. You have to be stern with teens.”

Pierce surveyed the photos. “You have a nice family.”

“And you and Dolores have been retired a few years?” Benton asked. “From where?”

“Yes, I worked at Boeing. She was in accounting at Costco.”

“Getting back to the park,” Pierce said, then got her laptop again. She took it over to Croft, cued up a map of Sparrow Song and handed her device to him. “Can you show me where you walked that day?” Leaning closer this time, she caught a trace of Old Spice as Croft held the laptop and studied the map’s trails.

A finger with gnarled knuckles traced a line that was not the trail used by the Sunny Days group, but webbed to it, near the trailhead.

“Did you see or hear anything that day to cause you concern?”

“No.”

“Did you hear a cry for help? A scream?”

“No. I walked on the trail Dolores and I usually take, then got to my car and came home.”

“You say you walk in the park every week or so with Dolores, but that day you went alone. Why’s that?” Pierce slid her laptop back into her bag.

“Like I said, routine. I guess I want to maintain a routine while she’s away.”

“But, Mr. Croft,” Pierce said, “why drive down the interstate to a park when you have so many parks right here in Issaquah with views of the mountains, the lake?”

“Dolores likes the park and it’s good for us to get out there.”

“When did you become aware there was a tragedy at the park that day?” Pierce asked.

“The first inkling was when I got on ninety-five to come home. I saw police cars with their sirens going and lights flashing, heading in the direction of the park. Then I saw the news and that’s how I knew. It’s just terrible. They said she was trying to take a picture of herself and fell.”

The detectives looked at Croft for a moment.

“Mr. Croft—” Benton indicated the small table next to Croft “—why do you have two phones?”

“Oh, one belongs to Dolores.”

“May I?” Pierce picked up the phones, then made note of the two, their brand and color.

“But Dolores is visiting her sister in Maine?” Pierce said. “Wouldn’t she take it with her?”

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