CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Carly leaned closer to Lyle’s cellphone, eager to hear every word that Sheriff Ketchum was saying.
“Shane Crawford?” Lyle repeated. “He was in art classes with both victims?”
“Right. According to this list, the guy was a model at least a couple of times for those classes and some others.”
“A model?”
“‘Figure drawing,’ it says on this list here. And the other one was called ‘Painting from the Live Model.’”
“Is his name familiar to you?” Lyle asked.
“It rings a bell. I believe we’ve gotten a few complaints about him, nothing serious enough to arrest him for. From what I recall, he seems to be kind of a public nuisance. Why do you want to know? Do you think he might be a suspect?”
Lyle made a small fist bump and silently mouthed the word “Yes!” to Carly. But he was c
