Strange Things Done by Elle Wild Page B

crispy spring rolls at Hon’s. I may never eat spring rolls again.”
    “Oh, that’s disgusting!” Sally spat the words out.
    “Yup. So, not long after that, a woman escaped a third attack and called the Sun —and she got put through to me. She tells me that she’d parked her car near the Rowing Club and gone for a run in Stanley Park …”
    “Wait, wasn’t he called the Surrey Strangler? Stanley Park is in Vancouver.”
    “True, but only the first victim was attacked in Surrey. The name just stuck. Anyway, when the woman got back to her car, the sun was setting. She notices a flash of silver sticking out of the driver’s window. She’d left it rolled down a little to keep the car cool. It looks like a coat hanger. When she steps closer to look, this guy comes out of the bushes in front of the car. He’s a young guy, dressed like a police cyclist. You know, black helmet, black vest, black cargo shorts?”
    “Let me guess …”
    Jo nodded. “Yeah. He calls out ‘Police!’ and holds up what looks like a VPD badge. Then he tells her that someone tried to break into her car, but escaped in the woods. He wants her to get into the car and check to see if anything’s missing while he waits.”
    “I hope she didn’t do it?”
    “Nope. She said …” Jo strained to remember. It was like going back down a very dark tunnel. “… she said there was something she didn’t care for in his eyes. She said he looked too eager .”
    Sally shuddered. “Like that isn’t disturbing.”
    “Yeah, then she noticed that, although it said ‘Police’ on the tactical vest, there was no VPD badge on the sleeve of the shirt.”
    “Good for her.”
    “Yeah, lucky. It probably saved her life. She ran for it.”
    “What happened to the guy?”
    “He chased her, but gave up once she made it to the seawall. Too many joggers and bikers. She called the police, and they told her that no officer had reported vehicle damage in Stanley Park.”
    “ Eeeee! ” Sally shook herself. “How does that woman sleep at night?”
    “I know. Anyway, this is where my problem starts. Two officers from the VPD pay me a visit. Friends of my father’s. They don’t want me to report the story.”
    “Why not?”
    “Because it would let the guy know that the police are on to him. If I don’t report it, they can stake out the parks. They know who to watch for, how he dresses. They’ve got a shot at catching him. But if I report it, the guy might just change his tactics. Or do a runner.”
    “So what did you do?”
    “I said I’d let my editor, Kevin Kessler, decide. But they tell me that if I tell him, it’s already decided. Because Kessler would print it, and they’d lose the guy. The Strangler.”
    “So you didn’t print it.”
    “No. And he got another girl. Strangled her in a car and then set the whole vehicle on fire.”
    “Jesus.”
    “Yes. The woman who’d gotten away promised she wouldn’t talk to anyone. Promised the police. But she changed her mind after that. Can’t say I blame her.”
    “No.” Sally cleared her throat and shook her head. It was snowing softly, and she lifted her face to look at the sky. “That’s a terrible story.”
    “I know,” Jo said. She felt a tight knot in her throat as she swallowed. “Well anyway, I made the wrong call. My first duty should have been to warn the public.” She thought of the smoking wreck. The charred remains.
    “But in warning the public, you would have warned the killer, too.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Damned if you do …”
    “Just plain damned. Like I said, my dad was a cop. When they wanted me to kill the story, they sent over one of the guys my dad used to go drinking with after his shift.”
    “Sure they did.”
    “The truth is, a big part of the reason I made it as a crime reporter was because my dad’s friends were willing to trust me with an inside scoop. They trusted that I wouldn’t use the information carelessly. I would have never gotten another interview