Trent and Amanda both inched forward on the couch. He asked, “When and where?”
“Just walking down the street… with a woman?”
She hated it when eyewitnesses responded with a question like they were unsure, but she had to take what she was given. “He was with a woman? Can you describe her?”
Chris took a deep breath, let out a funky moan, and said, “She was blond. Probably about your height.”
Amanda was five nine. “Did you get a good look at her face?”
“Nah, it was dark out.”
“Early morning or night?” A valid question as the sun didn’t rise until closer to seven these days.
Chris rubbed a hand down his face. “I’d been drinking, so it must have been night. Don’t ask me the time. Heck, probably why I’m not even sure if I saw him.”
She was just going to ignore his self-doubt. “When was this? Recently? A while back?”
“I’d say recently.”
“Within the last couple of days?” She was really hoping to narrow the timeline down a tad.
“Yeah, I’d say so.”
And there was the gold nugget that Amanda had been looking for—a possible connection to Ashley Lynch. She had been murdered two days ago and was about Amanda’s height. Was she the woman Chris was talking about? There was the matter of Chris saying that he saw them at night, and Ashley’s time of death was pegged between four and five thirty in the morning. Did that mean the killer had spent time with Ashley before killing her—and doing what? It hadn’t been sex because Rideout had found zero evidence of that—consensual or otherwise. But maybe Amanda was getting carried away to think it was Ashley and her killer that Chris had seen. “How old would you say she was?”
“I didn’t get a good look.”
Amanda continued to mull over the implications of the woman being Ashley and the man her killer. Had he walked with her to 532 Bill Drive? How had he gotten her cooperation? Drugs? Maybe something different than he’d given Shannon Fox, or a smaller, non-lethal dosage? And if the killer had chosen the house, did the geography mean something to him? Was he from this neighborhood? It would allow him to blend in more.
“How did they seem to you?” Trent asked. “Like were they friendly with each other or did she look in distress?”
“She was fine, I guess. Laughing a bit. Unsteady on her feet.”
That could be the result of drugs. Whatever the case, Amanda had this strong feeling in her gut that the woman was Ashley. She considered showing him Ashley’s computer-rendered photo, but feared he’d easily fall prey to the suggestion and jump on Ashley being who he’d seen with the man. Besides, he had said he didn’t get a good look. She was curious, though, why Chris hadn’t said anything about the duo when officers would have gone to his house after the fire. Had he simply minimized the importance of a man and woman walking down the sidewalk? She supposed it wouldn’t have stood out at the time. But then, when he saw that same man again, jogging on the morning of—and in the vicinity of—a second murder, it came back to his mind. That was plausible.
“You seem awfully interested in this man and the woman from the other day…” Chris eyed them studiously. “Do you think this man is a murderer?”
“Far too soon to say.”
“Well, there was a young woman found in the fire,” he said. “Then Ms. Fox and what happened to her. I read an article that she’s the one who called the fire department. Is that why the killer targeted her?”
“These are open investigations, Mr. Ingram, and I’m not at liberty to discuss them with you.” Goosebumps spread across her flesh. People liked to play detective, but she was getting a bad feeling about Chris.
“It had to be because she called nine-one-one.” Chris mentioned the call again, sounding quite confident it was what had gotten Shannon Fox murdered.
Tingles spilled over the back of Amanda’s neck and down her arms. Their killer wanted attention, and he’d sought her out… What if the story of a jogger had been a ruse to lure them here? Then the additional story of a man and woman to toy with them? Could they be sitting across from the killer they hunted?
“How can you be so sure Ms. Fox was killed for placing the nine-one-one call?” Amanda pushed out.
Chris’s gaze flicked to her, to Trent, then to the floor. “I heard her tongue was cut out.”
His words didn’t relax her. He could claim he’d heard it when he’d actually been responsible. But his soft, almost timid demeanor, calmed her. “Who told you that?”
He tugged on the sleeves of his shirt. “Everyone around here knows.”
?
?Not a direct answer to my question, Mr. Ingram.” She leveled a glare at him.