by Mia Sheridan
“It was the right call. Holy shit.” He shook his head. “If it does turn out to be her, and along with the news that the other victim found in the same manner took classes at UC too, the whole campus is going to go berserk. We need to tell the chief so he can prepare a statement, because the news will be all over this department like white on rice as soon as the story breaks.” He paused. “What’s the update on the burglary at Josie Stratton’s house?”
Zach updated him on his meeting with the cousin. “I heard from the lab on my way to tonight’s crime scene. No fingerprints on that knife. The lab hasn’t found anything that would tie him or anyone else to the break in.”
“The cousin called to complain about you earlier today,” Sergeant Woods said, eyeing Zach. “Said you threatened him. I squashed it but sounds like he’s hired a lawyer. Threw some woman’s name around. He won’t talk anymore unless we have something concrete.” Well, that’s that, Zach thought. And again, what a prick.
“Someone printed up an old article about Josie’s escape and hung it up around town,” Jimmy said quietly.
Zach’s spine stiffened. “What?”
“Yeah, I was going to mention it when you got to Josie’s. She was in the other room when I talked to you earlier. Then the crime scene and—”
“What happened?” Zach interrupted.
Jimmy told them about the garage sale flyers Josie had hung up, about going into town and finding that someone had tacked an article about Josie’s escape, including a picture, next to every flyer she’d posted.
“Someone’s messing with her,” Zach said, his jaw tight. “My bet’s on the cousin, but he also struck me as a guy who would get others to do any dirty work. How much do you want to bet that we get the tapes from the places the ad was hung, and it’s some little kid or homeless guy tacking it up?”
Jimmy nodded and Sergeant Woods laced his hands behind his head, jaw set as he stared off behind them for a moment. “Get those tapes and we’ll see what’s what. It could be the copycat toying with her. That’s still a possibility.”
Zach’s muscles tensed. “Correct.” But why? What would be the motive?
“A shitstorm could be coming our way. We can’t afford to bungle this. Make sure you keep Josie Stratton safe.”
Zach looked at Jimmy. “Get outta here,” Jimmy said. “I’m going to keep Cathlyn company at the lab. The grocery store where one of the articles was hung is open twenty-four hours. I’ll call and ask the manager to pull the tapes from the last week or so. The library may or may not have cameras, and the other one we saw was hung on a street corner. Whatever I hear, I’ll keep you updated.”
Zach appreciated his partner, who’d woken at the crack of dawn and would now be burning the midnight oil. He knew Jimmy wouldn’t have it any other way, despite the loss of sleep, but damn if Zach wasn’t grateful for Jimmy right then, because he had this urgent need to get back to Josie. He wanted to do what he could for the girl headed to the coroner’s office, but he also wanted to be the one making sure Josie was safe, unharmed. It was probably the crime scene he’d been at, the sick, cold feeling that had settled in his bones since he’d walked down the stairs of that abandoned house and had seen the shackled body. It obviously brought to mind what Josie Stratton had endured—suffered. The more he saw, the angrier he became at what she went through. The damp and cold of the basement. The chafing of the chains. The fear . . . God. What that monster did to her. He was antsy to get to her house. See her with his own eyes, know she was okay.
He didn’t let himself analyze it more than that.
Keep Josie Stratton safe.
It was exactly what he intended to do.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Josie peeked out her window, watching as Officers Horton and Vogel talked in low tones to Detective Copeland, who was holding what looked like a large pizza box in one hand. Her heart gave a small leap at the sight of the tall, handsome detective, while her stomach growled hungrily. She chose to ignore the former and acknowledge the latter. She hadn’t eaten anything for dinner yet. She’d felt awkward in the presence of Horton and Vogel, despite that they seemed to be nice men, so she’d gone upstairs to get some privacy. She’d tried to work a little bit, but her mind had insisted on wandering, and she kept yawning. She’d finally lain down for a little while. She was exhausted after not sleeping well the night before, waking up early, and then dealing with the unsettling and chaotic emotions that had clobbered her after discovering the posted articles and experiencing the dismal garage sale. That people had come to gawk at me, she thought with an internal grimace. Now . . .
Josie watched as Detective Copeland said some parting words to Horton and Vogel and then they got in their police cruiser and backed out of her driveway as he stood in front of her porch watching them leave. Balancing the pizza in one hand, he disappeared up her front steps and she heard her front door open and then close softly below her.
Josie disengaged the locks on her bedroom door, walking down the hall to the bathroom where she took a quick shower, piling her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. When she emerged, she felt more awake, cleansed from the physical work of earlier that day. She returned to her room and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs, the smell of pepperoni drawing her.
She walked into the kitchen where Detective Copeland stood half turned away from her, looking at the pots and pans on the floor, various levels of water in each. A drop of water pinged into one and he looked up, squinting at the stain on the ceiling.
“Hey,” she said and he turned quickly, his expression morphing into a smile.
“Hey. Little leak, huh?”
“It was little. Now it’s . . . bigger.” When it’d first appeared, she’d only had to put out one pot to catch the drips, but now six were necessary. Pretty soon she’d be able to use her kitchen as a shower. She took a few steps into the room, checking the water levels in each.
“I have a buddy who does roof repairs. He could probably come out in the next few days and take a look. I’d be happy to call him. It’s probably not the greatest time to have strangers in your home.”
Josie looked away. “Oh, well, this isn’t exactly at the top of my list right now anyway.” She cleared her throat, heat rising in her cheeks. She really didn’t want to talk about her pitiful financial situation with this man who probably already thought she was pathetic in practically every way. “Is that pizza I smell?”
When she looked up at him, she saw he was studying her closely, a knowing look in his eyes, but he quickly schooled his expression and looked to where he’d set the pizza box on the table. “I hope you like pepperoni.”
“Who doesn’t, Detective?”
He laughed, his white teeth flashing, and her stomach gave a little twist. God, he really was distractingly handsome, and as she stood there watching him remove two plates from her cabinet and begin dishing up pizza slices, a tiny sensation of . . . amazement sparkled through her. In a way, her reaction to the detective was a revelation. She could still respond physically to a man. Whether she’d ever want to take a next step was beside the point. She wasn’t broken beyond repair. At least she didn’t think so, not after this.
She would not fall into old bad habits—seeking the attention of men in order to validate herself, looking for love in all the wrong places. She would not. Especially when a relationship of any sort with the man tasked with protecting her safety would probably be a conflict of interest. She’d gone down that particular road before and it hadn’t ended well. And anyway, it wasn’t as if he’d look at her that way, knowing what he knew. But, never mind all that. To realize she could still feel that rush of sexual attraction when she never thought she’d be capable of it again made her feel . . . hopeful. Happy. As though she’d won something back.
“You’re smiling,” he noted.
Josie glanced up at Zach in surprise as she brought her fingers to her mouth, smoothing out the smile she hadn’t realized she was wearing.
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br /> Zach laughed, his eyes dancing. “I meant it as a positive. You should do it more.” His smile grew, making him look even more handsome than she’d thought him before. She let out a small laugh as he set the plates down at the table and moved the box to the counter.
Drinks. They’d need drinks. “I, ah, don’t have any soda,” she said, flustered, moving toward her refrigerator. “But I still have iced tea and water.”
“Iced tea would be great,” he said, sitting down. As she poured tea in two glasses, she thought about how she’d done the same thing for this man just two days before, and yet that felt like a lifetime ago.
They sat together eating in silence for several minutes before he grabbed a napkin from a basket in the middle of the table and wiped his mouth, watching her for a moment as she chewed, but seeming to be thinking about something. “We should get you set up with an alarm system.”
Josie set her pizza down, using her napkin to wipe her fingers and the corners of her mouth. She didn’t disagree, in fact, she’d wanted to get one when she’d first moved to Oxford. But again . . . finances. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but he spoke before she could. “I’ll put in for it at the department. My boss wants someone here in person until . . .” He gave a strange pause. “Until this is cleared up, but if someone did try to break in again, it would help whoever is here to be forewarned.” He glanced away and then back to her. “Ever thought of getting a dog?”
She exhaled, her lips tipping. “Not right now. I’m too busy getting this place fixed up. And . . .” She dropped his gaze, her eyes moving to the cabinets behind him. “If it doesn’t work out here and I have to move back into an apartment, it would make things more difficult finding a place that takes pets.”
“I have no doubt you’ll make it work here if you want to.”
She met his eyes again, deciding she was not going to try to sugarcoat her circumstances. “I’m doing the best I can, Detective—”
“Zach.”
Their gazes met. “Zach.” She paused. “I’m doing the best I can, but the truth of the matter is that I might be in over my head. I might not have what it takes to make this work.” She’d been thinking about that all afternoon and into the evening, wondering if it would really be the worst thing in the world if she sold the damn place to Archie, wiped her hands of it, and moved back to Cincinnati into a small apartment where some landlord took care of leaky roofs, and plumbing problems, and all the rest of it too. She could call the companies she’d done transcribing for, start working from home again. It’d been joyless work, but it’d paid the bills, kept her mind occupied.
“Josie,” he said, his eyes very serious. “Your life was . . . derailed nine years ago in the worst possible way, and I’m sure that some days, maybe lots of days, you feel like you’re just starting out, whereas others your age are settling into their lives. Their careers.” The way he was looking at her was so serious, so earnest, it made her breath stall. “But you have more grit, more courage, and determination in your little finger than anyone else I know. So yeah, I have no doubt you’ll make it work here if you want to,” he repeated.
She exhaled the breath she’d held as he spoke, shaking her head, but she couldn’t deny that his words of encouragement had warmed her, buoyed her, sent a jolt of that determination he said she had straight to her gut. The truth was, growing up, no one had ever expressed that type of passionate belief in her. And funny enough, she’d finally found what no one else had given her—inner strength—in the bowels of hell as she’d waited to die. Afterward, her aunt had helped her hold on to what she’d grasped with her bare fingertips in that dank warehouse. At least for a while. But now that she was gone, Josie still struggled to hold on to what she’d fought so mightily for. She could hardly express what his words meant to her. “Thank you, Det— Zach, but—”
“No buts.” He gave her a rueful smile. “I want to tell you something.” He paused, taking a sip of his tea as she tilted her head. He looked slightly apprehensive suddenly. “Eight years ago, when I was just a rookie cop, I was assigned to guard your hospital room door.”
She blinked, swallowed. “Oh,” she breathed. She looked away, the memory of that day washing through her.
The sudden freedom.
The hope.
The desperation.
The clawing grief.
The trauma.
Snatches of her arrival at the hospital came back to her right then, and she almost groaned aloud at the overwhelming flood of emotions. But she took a deep breath, looking up into the eyes of the man who had guarded her safety that night, and was guarding her safety now. Despite the emotional onslaught, a smile tugged at her mouth. “My guardian,” she murmured.
He smiled and she swore two spots of color appeared beneath the bronzed skin of his cheekbones. “No. Lots of good people had your back that day. But Josie, you’re the one who survived, who made it out, and you should never cease giving yourself the credit you deserve. You amaze me.”
Her chest flooded with warmth, but she felt awkward too, undeserving of such high praise. She’d done what she had to do, yes, but anyone else would have done the same, given similar opportunities in that harrowing situation. And the fact remained, she hadn’t managed to do the one thing that truly mattered: she hadn’t saved her child. She hadn’t kept her promise to him. Her baby boy.
At least not yet.
She gave him a smile. “Thank you, Zach.”
He regarded her. “I heard your garage sale didn’t go so well today.”
She cringed internally. She hated that the man who’d just praised her and made her feel proud, knew of her failure. “Not exactly. Did Detective Keene tell you about the articles pinned next to my flyers?” She felt the shame of that moment she’d first seen the ad hung up in the grocery store, the realization of what it was.
Zach nodded. “Yeah. Think it was your cousin who did that?”
She shrugged. “It’s my best guess. Even if someone else put that rat in my house to try to scare me or to . . . I don’t know, send a message, no one has reason to try to run me out of this community except Archie.”
“Don’t let him, Josie.”
His tone was so incredibly serious. She met his eyes, a sense of wonder overcoming her. He’s rooting for me, she thought with a pang in her chest at the realization. This man is not just here to protect my safety, he’s on my side. A flush of warmth blossomed under her skin. She didn’t know him at all really, but his belief in her meant so much. “You’ve fought harder battles than this,” he said, looking at her meaningfully.
That was the understatement of the century.
She’d had a similar thought earlier that day, but after the—mostly—failed garage sale, she hadn’t been able to hold on to the sentiment. Detective Zach Copeland had helped her reclaim it with his sincerity, and she was grateful. She felt shy though, off balance, out of her element. While his words of support had meant the world to her, responding to compliments was unfamiliar to Josie, and she wasn’t sure what to say.
She stood and gathered their empty plates, but as she was turning, he reached out and touched her arm. A charge moved between the place where their skin met, and suddenly Josie felt as if it was the only place she existed. Just there. The place where their molecules meshed.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said, his eyes moving to where his hand rested on her arm as though he felt the same energy flowing between them.
She stepped back and his hand fell away. “You didn’t. I appreciate what you said. It means a lot to me. I’m trying to see myself as a survivor instead of a victim.”
“You should,” he said as she took the plates to the sink and placed them inside.
She turned around, leaning against the porcelain apron. “How long do you guys think you’ll be here?”
Zach got up, gathering the glasses and placing them on the counter next to the sink where she stood. As he leaned back, she caught his scent, a light col
ogne, or maybe just deodorant. Clean. Masculine. Nice. He looked at her for a moment, indecision in his expression. “We found another girl earlier this evening.”
She sucked in a small breath. “Another girl?”
Zach watched her closely as he nodded.
“My God. Same . . . same as the other one?”
“Yes.”
Josie swallowed, horror screaming through her. “Where?” she managed to ask.
“Another basement in an abandoned house in Clifton.”
“Same manner of death? Shackles?” She felt her lips move but her voice sounded distant somehow.
“Yes.”
Josie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling chilled to the bone. “Who is she?”
Zach paused. “We don’t have a positive ID yet, but she’s young.”
“What’s this guy’s point?” she asked, her voice breaking on the last word. “Why would he be copying Marshall Landish?”
Zach leaned back against the opposite counter, crossing his own arms across his chest. “Well, from what we know about copycat killers, a desire for media attention is usually a strong motivating factor.”
“My crime received plenty of media attention, but that was eight years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. The killer made sure we wouldn’t miss the similarities. As much as no one at my department wants to sensationalize this, we have to warn the public.” He paused again. “Like I said, we don’t have a positive ID on the second victim yet, but we think she may have attended UC. The first victim attended classes there too, though she’d dropped them several months before her abduction. We’re not sure of the significance of the link, but the campus needs to know.”