The First Victim

CHAPTER 54

Between the chauffeur-driven Town Cars and her own 325i, Stevie realized she had not ridden a Seattle city bus until then, surprised by the diversity of its riders and the unexpected neighborliness of its passengers. She had thought the bus system a place for poor people, the homeless and indigent, ‘‘The Unseen Minority’’ as they had been called in a feature piece on N4@5. Instead, on that Tuesday afternoon she found teenagers, college kids, moms and children, even a businessman or two. They read books, newspapers, knitted, listened to Walkmans, shared a conversation, or stared out the windows, which was what Stevie did, ever alert for landmarks that might signal the location where Melissa’s subject had disembarked. In her right hand, Stevie carried a printout from the digital video for comparison.

The bus stops came and went. People switched seats. The doors hissed shut. The bell line buzzed the driver.

She marked a tourist map as she went, indicating the running time of the trip. With the video time-stamped, it seemed one possible way to identify the bus stop this man had taken.

The bus route dragged on, her broadcast nearing. After ten more minutes, as they approached the Fremont Bridge, she realized the bus trip would have to wait. She had a meeting scheduled with Boldt to determine if they should air the clips of Mama Lu. Frustrated with the idea of giving up she nonetheless disembarked, crossed the street and rode another bus back into town. As it turned out, Boldt was waiting for her.