Where the Blame Lies

by Mia Sheridan

  For a moment she watched as their vehicles disappeared down the road, her eyes moving to Zach where he stood by his car, talking on the phone. He held up his finger indicating he’d be right in. She heard her cell phone ring from the kitchen and walked to answer it. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

  “Hi, J-Josie.”

  Josie’s muscles turned to water, and she sagged against the counter. “Who is this?” she said, her voice deadened, her heart thumping wildly.

  She heard an exhalation of breath, and there was something in the background—rushing water maybe?—that made it difficult to hear.

  “Slayer of r-rats. Deliverer of poetic j-justice. Did it m-make you happy? What I d-did to your bitch of a mother?”

  His voice was slightly muffled by whatever sound she heard in the background but it sounded like him, just like him, and horror clawed through every cell in Josie’s shock-riddled body.

  It can’t be. It can’t be.

  “Marshall?” she whispered, her voice a mere slip of sound. Was she in a nightmare? It felt like she was.

  He laughed. “No. No, this is n-not Marshall. He d-died, Josie. Don’t you know that? Blew his own b-brains out.”

  “Who is this?” she asked, her throat clogging with tears, with terror. She heard the front door open and close and Zach stepped into the kitchen. He began to smile, but as soon as he took her in, he rushed to where she stood, trembling, holding the phone to her ear in a death grip.

  “I think about you, Josie. I’ll n-need to see you once more. You h-have to know that, right? Just once m-more. You and me. Finally.” His voice deepened. “It’s been hard to stay away.”

  She clenched her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. Zach leaned in, trying to listen, but it was almost as if whoever was on the phone could see through the device, because the call disconnected. Josie opened her eyes, the phone dropping from her hand as she let out a tortured sob.

  “Who was that?” Zach demanded, taking her shoulders in his hands.

  She shook her head back and forth, denying what her mouth was already saying. “Marshall. It sounded exactly like Marshall. He said . . . he said he left that rat, he killed my mother. He called it poetic justice, he—” Her voice was shaking so badly she could barely speak. Zach pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “He said he needed to see me one more time,” she choked. “He’s coming for me.”

  “Shh,” he murmured against her hair. “I’m here. You’re safe. You’re okay. Josie.”

  “I think about you, Josie. I’ll n-need to see you once more. You h-have to know that, right? Just once m-more. You and me.” No, she wasn’t okay. It can’t be. He’s dead. But it was him. It was Marshall.

  Zach pulled her even closer, his hand making slow circles on her back. For a moment, Josie stiffened, unused to physical affection, hesitant about touch in general. But he felt so solid, so warm against her, and she sagged into him, letting him hold her for a moment before he pulled back, looking into her eyes. “You’re safe,” he repeated. “Take a deep breath and tell me exactly what he said.” She had taken solace in the strength of him against her—even for a brief moment—and she took solace in his words as well. She was safe. He was there with her. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. She took in a big breath, allowing it to infuse her body with momentary strength. She told him exactly what the man had said, how he’d stuttered exactly as Marshall Landish had, how the tone of his voice was the same, though there was competing background noise, something she couldn’t identify.

  Zach nodded, retrieving her phone from the floor, and looked up the number that had just called. He removed his own phone from his pocket and hit a button. A second later, Josie heard Jimmy’s barked hello, which further served to soothe her frazzled nerves and racing heart. Jimmy. Solid Jimmy.

  “I need you to trace a number,” he said. “Someone just called Josie pretending to be Landish.”

  They exchanged a few more words and then Zach hung up, leading her to a kitchen chair. She sank down into it, her limbs like jelly. “It sounded so much like him,” she whispered. “It . . . I thought it was him.”

  Zach squatted down in front of her, taking her hands in his and looking up at her. “It couldn’t be. It was some sicko trying to scare you. Marshall Landish is dead. There’s no chance it was him.”

  She nodded. She knew he was dead. The police didn’t make mistakes like that. The coroner. Whoever was charged with identifying a body after death. She knew it couldn’t be him. She just couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d come back from the dead somehow.

  Just once m-more. You and me. Finally. It’s been hard to stay away.

  Oh God.

  **********

  Zach leaned against the railing, his back to the house, his eyes scanning the road and the surrounding areas as he waited for Sergeant Woods to pick up the line.

  “Copeland,” he greeted. “Jimmy’s here in my office with me. We got the information back on that trace. Burner phone. Dead end.”

  Zach exhaled a breath. He’d figured as much. “It’s gotta be this copycat. And the copycat has to be someone who knew Landish. Josie said there was some background noise, but she was convinced it was him at first. Whoever impersonated him, did a damn good job. It scared the hell out of her.”

  The sergeant swore softly. “I don’t have a good feeling about this. This guy is gearing up to do something, Cope. Every cop instinct I have tells me so.”

  Zach didn’t disagree. His stomach twisted at the very real possibility that Josie was in danger. Guarding her had been a precaution at first. Now it was a necessity. A necessity that, if not handled well, could result in her being hurt. Or killed.

  “Vaughn Merrick has lawyered up. We’ve put in a request to get a voluntary DNA sample and a list of women he’s been involved with over the years, as far back as he can remember. The guy is hemming and hawing, saying there were only a few, and he can’t remember their names offhand. He’ll have to go back through his class rosters, etcetera. Slimy motherfucker. But once we get those names, we’ll probably be putting details on them as well. We already have one dispatched to Reagan Hutchison’s house.”

  Shit. That was a lot of manpower. Manpower they didn’t necessarily have. Putting a tail on Reagan Hutchison might be overkill, but Zach understood the scale of the investigation, knew how vital it was that they not leave one stone unturned. Maybe they could request a few officers from surrounding townships.

  As though the sergeant had read his mind, he said, “As far as Josie Stratton’s protection, the Oxford PD can’t spare us any officers right now. They’re understaffed, some flu going around. I could send a couple of our officers, but I’m not going to do that because we need everybody we have working this case right now, in addition to extra officers patrolling the UC campus and surrounding areas. We’re stretched paper thin.”

  Zach stilled. No way was the sergeant about to suggest that Josie not be given any further protection. “Sergeant, with all due respect, you yourself just said you had a feeling this guy was gearing up to do something—”

  “I do. That’s why I want you to get her out of here, temporarily.”

  “What do you mean, get her out of here?” Zach glanced back to the house. Josie moved in front of the window, shifting the curtain aside and looking out. Their eyes met.

  “I know Jimmy told you about the name he pulled from the old report dating back five years—the woman Ms. Merrick mentioned who showed up at their house causing a disturbance?”

  “Yeah. She moved to Tennessee? In with her parents apparently? Jimmy hasn’t been able to reach her.”

  “No, but listen, we have a safehouse very near there. I want you to interview the parents in person, see if they can tell you where to find their daughter. Take Josie with you and stay at the safehouse. She’ll be able to get outside, not feel like a prisoner again, and we won’t have to worry about her safety for a few days at least. Just get her out of h
ere.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “What do you mean, you have to get me out of here?” Josie asked, her eyes wide.

  “I mean, this guy is getting bolder. He’s made contact with you, threatened you. My sergeant feels strongly he’s going to escalate things and I agree. We have a lead in Tennessee, which is only a four-hour drive away, and he suggested you come with me.” Zach ran a hand over his hair. “Listen, Josie, the department simply doesn’t have the manpower to give you the protection you need while also working this case to the best of its ability. In addition to putting a security detail on Reagan, something is likely to get dropped, and it could cost someone’s life.”

  “Mine?” she asked, her voice bland, emotionless.

  “I’m not going to let that happen. But we don’t know what this guy’s next move is.” They couldn’t do anything about protecting a woman—or women—they didn’t know were on his radar. But they could do something about protecting Josie. Frankly, he’d felt relieved when he’d been ordered to spirit her away while also following a lead. Get her out of the town where this maniac still freely roamed the streets.

  Josie nodded, but she still looked troubled. “I’ll go pack.”

  An hour later, Zach and Josie met Jimmy at one of the districts where Zach’s partner gave him a burner phone, cash, and verbally gave him the address to the safehouse. Josie turned over her cell phone as well. It would be monitored by a female officer who would answer it in the event the suspect called again, and they’d attempt a trace. Zach left Josie in Jimmy’s care at the station so she could give Jimmy her statement about the phone call and what specifically had been said, while Zach made a quick trip to his apartment, threw some clothes in a bag, and gave the lone plant on his windowsill some water. It had died six months before but maybe it would rebloom? What the hell did he know about plants? He wasn’t ready to completely give up on it just yet. Zach headed back to the station and picked up Josie.

  Zach felt a small amount of tension releasing from his shoulders as he drove out of the city limits, south toward Tennessee with Josie beside him. He glanced at her, saw her take in a deep breath and got the feeling she was suddenly able to breathe more easily too.

  “Do you know where this safehouse is?”

  “I only have an address. But I think it’s pretty remote.”

  The burner phone in the middle console rang and Zach glanced at it. Jimmy. He picked it up.

  “Hey man.”

  “Yo. You out of the city?”

  “Yeah. Just crossing into Kentucky.”

  “Drive safe. Like Sarge said, the professor’s still dragging his heels on giving us any kind of list to work with. Do you think Josie might be able to help with that?”

  He glanced at Josie’s profile. Some hair had escaped her ponytail and had fallen around her face. She looked young and vulnerable, and his foot pressed harder on the gas, eager to put as much distance between her and any possible danger. “I doubt it. I’ll ask.”

  Jimmy was silent for a moment. “Listen, I’m sitting here going over this case. Going through the case file, the information on Landish . . .”

  “What is it, Jimmy?” Zach knew his partner, knew when he was hedging.

  “Well, listen, it’s just strange. This new guy knowing about those burns on Josie, the rats. I know we talked about potential explanations for both of those things. But Josie said the guy who called her on the phone earlier today did a pretty convincing impression of Landish, correct?”

  Zach glanced at Josie again and she looked back at him, blinked. “Yeah.”

  “Okay, if he did a convincing impression of Landish now, could he have done a convincing impression of him then?”

  “Wait, wait.” Zach shook his head. Jimmy was a good detective, one of the best, but this? This was far-fetched. “Josie only heard the guy this morning on the phone.” He glanced at her, gave her a small, reassuring smile. She obviously knew he was talking to Jimmy. Obviously knew they were discussing her case. The fact was, she might be able to help them with many aspects of this investigation. She might be able to provide some missing piece she didn’t even know she had. “She knew Landish as much more than just a voice.”

  Zach saw Josie’s shoulders draw upward a fraction. Jimmy sighed. “Yeah, I know, but he never took his mask off, right?”

  “From what I understand.”

  “I’ve been looking at Landish’s suicide. And there are a few . . . questions.”

  Zach’s nerves pinched. “Such as?”

  “Like, for example, they never found a mask at his apartment.”

  “He probably ditched it in some garbage can.”

  “Possibly. There was also zero DNA belonging to Landish in that warehouse room. There were, however, a few hairs found stuck to that mattress that did not belong to Josie Stratton.”

  Zach rubbed at his eye. “I thought it was presumed that mattress was bought used and those hairs probably belonged to the previous owner.”

  “Yes. Possibly. The other thing of note is that there were no fingerprints in that room either. Not on the doorknob or anywhere else. It’s almost as if he wiped that room down before police got there.”

  “Could Landish have realized Josie was missing very soon after she escaped and took the time to wipe the room down?”

  “And then went home and killed himself? What was the point then?”

  “Maybe that part wasn’t planned.”

  “Hmm,” Jimmy hummed. Zach heard pages rustling in the background. “That doesn’t quite work because when Landish was found, it appeared he’d been dead for several hours at least. Although it was apparently hot in his apartment, which made pinpointing a time of death more difficult.”

  What the hell? Zach thought for a minute. “Were rattraps taken into evidence?”

  There was a short pause before Jimmy said, “No. No traps.”

  So he’d taken the rattraps Josie had mentioned? In essence, he’d wiped down and cleaned the place up. Taken anything that wasn’t easily cleaned of fingerprints perhaps? But how was that possible if he was already dead? And even if the time of death was inaccurate, he’d have to have snuck into that room the moment Josie had escaped, and then run home and shot himself. Police had been all over both the warehouse room and Landish’s apartment within the hour.

  “I’m still reading through all the forensics,” Jimmy went on as Zach’s mind roamed. “But listen, apparently there’s a sister who insists her brother didn’t commit this crime, that it just wasn’t in his nature.”

  “I saw that, but, man, how many people do we arrest whose family members insist they didn’t do it, because it just wasn’t in their nature?”

  “A hell of a lot.”

  “The guy committed suicide.”

  “A murder can be made to look like suicide.” Jimmy paused. “Listen, I’m just exploring all avenues here. I could be totally off base.”

  Exploring all avenues was what they did, what solved cases. Lots of times they started going down a path that turned out to be misguided, but what made them thorough—and what made their solve rate so high—was that they never ignored any possibilities in their investigations, no matter how unlikely.

  “What I can’t get my head around is how this new guy made the connection to Professor Merrick. He not only chose UC students, like Josie Stratton, but he chose UC students who had had an affair with the professor.”

  That’s what was still bugging Zach too. If they were going with the presumption that a completely different person committed the recent murders—a copycat killer—how had this person known that aspect? He’d have to have chosen them for that reason, otherwise it was just too coincidental. Had it been someone who knew Landish and picked up where he left off to fulfill some mission that was personal to both of them? Or could Jimmy’s questions have merit? Could this “copycat” actually be the person who abducted Josie and kept himself hidden beneath a mask? “Keep reading that report and I’ll talk to Josie. I’ll
text you when we get to the location.”

  “One other thing,” Jimmy said. “We got the video surveillance from that grocery store. It was the cousin who hung those articles next to Josie’s flyer. I looked up his picture on his website and compared it to the video footage. No doubt.”

  “Shit,” Zach muttered. “I guess I’m not surprised.”

  “Nah. Real douche move meant to humiliate her, but no real crime. She could sue him civilly, I guess.” Zach took a hand off the wheel and scrubbed at his jaw, doubting Josie had the funds to sue anyone. Would she even want to waste the time if she did? So the cousin had hung the posters, and some psycho had broken into her home and left a mutilated rat behind. His jaw clenched. He was even more glad they were headed out of town right about now.

  “Thanks, Jimmy. We’ll talk soon.”

  Zach hung up, tossing his phone back in the console. He was quiet for a minute and when he looked at Josie, she was staring back at him expectantly. “Will you tell me what Jimmy said?”

  Zach first told her about her cousin. She stared glumly ahead but didn’t look surprised. “Well that solves that,” she murmured. Zach paused for another moment, and then explained what Jimmy was questioning regarding Landish. As he spoke, Josie’s face registered shock, then denial. She shook her head. “No, Zach. I identified Marshall Landish immediately, even beneath that mask.” She swallowed and he regretted putting the distressed look on her face. “It wasn’t just the way he spoke—although that was unique—it was the way he walked, the way he moved, the way he carried himself, the way he smelled. It was just . . . it was everything about him.”

  “Except his face. You never saw his face.”

  She shook her head. “No, but I was glad for it. Because I figured it meant he had no idea I knew it was him. I hoped that it would make it more likely he’d let me go because he didn’t have to fear being ID’d and arrested.”

  Zach nodded, thinking.