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The Bone House - Brian Freeman [98]

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discussion among them about the murder or about the girl who was killed?'

'No, I haven't.'

'I'd like a list of the girls who were on the school trip with you. As long as I'm in the area, I'd like to interview them personally.'

'You mean today?' Jensen asked.

'If that's not a problem.'

'No, no, no problem. I could just jot down a list from memory right now, if you'd like. I don't have their contact information, though. You'd have to get that from the university.'

'That would be fine,' Cab told him.

'It'll take me just a minute.'

Jensen got up and opened a kitchen drawer and retrieved a notepad and a pen. He scribbled names on the paper, then hesitated with his pen poised in the air, as if he was trying to remember. 'I heard you have a suspect,' he told Cab. is that true? Is that the man I saw?'

'I can't comment on that,' Cab said. 'It would be much better if you didn't read any more articles about the case, Mr Jensen. You shouldn't talk to anyone about it either. If this goes to trial, you'll need to testify, and you'll be asked about things that might have influenced your memory.' 'I understand.'

He finished writing, tore off the page from the pad, and handed it to Cab, who studied the list of names.

Tracey Griffiths

Bracey Berard

Katie Baumgart

Nancy Gaber

Sally Anderson

Paula Davis

Michelle Palmer

Lenie Korbijn

Laura Hansen

Carol Breidenbach

Deb Bodinnar

'This is the whole team?' Cab asked.

Jensen nodded. 'Those are my girls.'

Cab folded the paper and slid it into the pocket of his suit coat. He stood up. 'Thank you for your help, Mr Jensen. I think that's all for now. If I have any more questions, I'll give you a call.' 'Of course.'

Jensen led him out of the kitchen. As the coach opened the front door, Cab glanced up the stairs, and Jensen followed his eyes and gave him an awkward smile.

'I'll let you get back to what you were doing,' Cab told him. 'Thank you. Good luck with your investigation, Detective.' Jensen closed the door, and Cab ducked through the swaying trees to the Corvette. He climbed inside, eyeing the dirty sky, which promised to open up in heavy rain before it was night. The wide street was empty of traffic. The upstairs level of Gary Jensen's house was barely visible through the thick web of maple branches, but he could see curtains drawn across all of the windows.

He wasn't impressed with Jensen as a witness. The man qualified everything he'd seen with 'maybe' and 'I'm not sure', as if he'd begun to regret opening his mouth in the first place. A smart defense attorney like Archibald Gale would shred him on a witness stand. There was also something about Jensen's demeanor that made Cab uneasy. He didn't like him.

He retrieved the coach's list from his pocket. He wanted to know what the rest of the Green Bay dance team had seen in Florida. He was ready to drive back to the university, but before he pulled away from the curb, his phone rang.

Cab heard a raspy voice when he answered. 'Detective, my name is Peter Hoffman.'

He searched his memory and was coming up blank when the man added, 'My son-in-law was Harris Bone.'

'Yes, of course, Mr Hoffman,' Cab said. 'What can I do for you?'

'We need to meet.'

'I know. You're on my list. Where do you live?'

'I'm not far from the ferry landing in Northport. When can you be here?'

Cab checked his watch. 'I'm about ninety minutes south of you right now, Mr Hoffman. I'm in Green Bay, and I have some other interviews to conduct in the next few hours. Can I come by your place first thing in the morning?'

'This can't wait,' Hoffman told him curtly.

Cab paused. He was curious. 'What is it you want to talk about?'

'I have information for you, Detective. It's urgent.'

'What kind of information?'

Hoffman practically spat into the phone. 'I can help you prove that Mark Bradley is the man who killed Glory.'

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four

Mark waited at the pier in Northport for the three o'clock ferry back to Washington Island. He couldn't see the boat out on the water through the fog and haze. His jaw ached where Peter Hoffman

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