Page 47 of Crossing Lines

Jo blew out a breath, suddenly disappointed that she didn’t have more to tell her sister. “Unfortunately, not much. I just started working with Holden Joyce on it, and Sam said he would help.” She glanced at Bridget. “It’s not really an official case, so it all has to be done on the side.”

“I understand. I won’t say a word. But that’s good, because it means I can help out, right?”

Could she? She didn’t want Bridget to be put in any danger, but she owed it to her sister to let her help. If Bridget felt anything like she did about their sister’s disappearance, then she couldn’t deny her that. “Sure. I’ll show you everything I have. Do you mind if I show Sam at the same time?”

“Not at all. I like him.”

“You might be able to help out on another case too.” Jo studied Bridget for any sign of hesitation or wariness about getting involved in a case, but all she saw was curiosity and eagerness.

“Really? How?”

Jo told her about the Thorne case and how he might be the person she’d seen with Amber. “If you could identify him, that would prove he knew the victim and could help keep him in jail.”

“Sure, I’ll do that. No problem.” Bridget wrapped her arms around her waist. “If he killed people, then I’ll do whatever I can to see he gets punished for it.”

“It won’t bring up bad memories or anything?” Jo was still hesitant. She wanted Bridget to look forward, not slide backwards. She’d never forgive herself if showing her pictures of Thorne made her get back on drugs.

Bridget touched her arm. “Don’t worry about that. I’m going to all my meetings and have no desire to get back into drugs. I’ve worked too hard.”

“Good. Then maybe you could stop by the station tomorrow.”

“I have a meeting in the afternoon and could stop by after?”

“Perfect.”

“Oh! I almost forgot about dinner!” Bridget turned and hurried up the porch steps. “It’s almost ready.”

“You made dinner again?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s good therapy. Tonight is roast chicken.”

Jo followed her in, happy at the prospect of a hot meal. Usually she just made a sandwich or ate crackers. Having Bridget live with her definitely had benefits.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The next morning, Jo, Reese, Wyatt, and Sam stood in front of the corkboard in Sam’s office. Various bits of information on the case were tacked to the board, along with pictures of Beryl Thorne, Ricky Webster, and Robert Summers.

Lucy lay in the puddle of sun that streamed in from the tall windows. Major had retreated to Sam’s closet. The toy was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps they were both taking the day off from battling over it.

“I dug into that previous case that Ricky Webster was indicated in. There was some question about a car at the scene of the crime. The car was his father’s, but the father couldn’t have driven it there because he was sick in the hospital,” Reese said.

Jo turned to Reese hopefully. “So Ricky was at the scene?”

Reese shook her head. “His alibi was solid.”

“Maybe another family member took it?” Wyatt suggested.

“Or the father wasn’t as sick as they thought.” Sam turned from the corkboard. “We should talk to him. Hopefully he’s not as mean as the grandmother.”

“Can’t,” Reese said. “The father died last year.”

“So Ricky was cleared in that case, but his alibi for this one is flimsy. Could be Ricky isn’t the only Webster who likes to kill,” Sam mused.

“You mean like a family of killers?” Reese looked both disgusted and intrigued.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Jo said. “Though it is rare.”

“Just because someone in his family might have killed the person back then doesn’t mean Ricky killed Kirsten. It’s not fair to assume that,” Wyatt said.

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