Breathe Your Last: An addictive and nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Josie Quinn Book 10)

by Lisa Regan

  “That must have been difficult for you,” Josie said. “Knowing they were together.”

  He lowered his gaze. “I wasn’t thrilled about it. Nysa deserved better than that jerk.”

  Gretchen said, “You didn’t think this was information that the police needed to know?”

  “Detective Palmer is right, Hudson. You lied to me and Detective Mettner when we spoke to you on Monday,” Josie said. “How can we believe you now when you say you didn’t see Nysa on Sunday night or Monday morning?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Gretchen said dismissively, addressing the words to Josie. “We’ll get the GPS coordinates from his Nissan Versa. We’ll be able to tell where he took Nysa from that. Let’s move on.”

  “Wait a minute,” Hudson said. “Why do you keep asking me about this? What does it even matter who saw her on Sunday or Monday?”

  Josie leaned in closer to him. “Because, Hudson, whoever was with her had a hand in her death. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  He splayed a large hand over his chest. “Wait, you think I did something to her? Like what? I told you already—I saw her Saturday at a party and the next thing I know, one of the assistant coaches is calling me saying she’s dead, and I need to come to the campus police station.”

  “We know what you did to her, Hudson,” said Josie. “The same thing your ex-roommate did to Robyn Arber, except you took it way too far.”

  He sucked in a sharp breath. His entire body stiffened, reminding Josie of prey in the wild, freezing in the hopes that a nearby predator would move on instead of attacking. He managed a choked, “What did you say?”

  “Do you remember Robyn Arber, Hudson?” Josie asked.

  “No, I mean, yes. I mean, Doug mentioned her. She was the reason he got kicked out of school—”

  “She was the reason?” Josie asked, cutting him off, shifting her chair closer to him, deeper into his personal space. “Are you sure about that, Hudson?”

  His lips worked but no words came.

  Josie said, “You sure it wasn’t the drug that you and Doug developed?”

  His voice rose an octave. “What?”

  It was an assumption on Josie’s part. It was entirely possible that Hudson hadn’t helped in the development of Doug’s version of Devil’s Breath, but there was no way in hell he hadn’t known anything about it.

  “Listen,” he pleaded. “I didn’t agree with what Doug did to Robyn. That was messed up. But it wasn’t my idea, okay? I told him no one would think those videos were funny.”

  Gretchen said, “So you knew about the drug?”

  “Well, yeah, we lived together. He was always doing all this weird shit like some kind of mad scientist, but I wasn’t involved in that. That was his thing. I found out about the videos after the fact.”

  Josie glanced at Gretchen, who gave her a barely perceptible nod. Moving even further into Hudson’s personal space, Josie said, “We talked with Doug yesterday, Hudson. He told us everything. Everything but your name. I guess he didn’t think we’d be able to figure that out. But the old campus Chief is gone, so no more cover-ups or lost files. The new campus Chief of Police, Chief Hahlbeck, checked for us and found out you were Doug’s roommate freshman year. Guess what else she found out?”

  He said nothing.

  “You didn’t get in trouble last year just for having a joint in your swim bag.”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  Josie went on, “You got in trouble because you and Doug had an extremely large amount of your knock-off Devil’s Breath in your apartment. Doug got expelled, banned from campus. You got off a little easier, though, just losing your scholarship.”

  He scratched the side of his nose with an index finger. “Yeah, well, my mom went batshit crazy on the Dean. My dad passed away in my senior year of high school, and that scholarship money really helped. The Dean said affording tuition was the least of our problems since he wanted to kick me out of school. Losing the scholarship was a compromise. I got to stay in school.”

  “What scholarship was that, Hudson?”

  His hand fell back to his lap. He didn’t look at her. Didn’t speak.

  “Hudson?” Josie said.

  “The Vandivere Alumni Scholarship,” he mumbled.

  Josie turned to Gretchen. “Detective Palmer, what was the big scholarship that Nysa Somers received over the summer? The one they were talking about on the news when WYEP did that piece on her?”

  Gretchen made a show of flipping pages in her notebook and adjusting her reading glasses. Josie noticed Hudson watching from beneath lowered eyelashes. “Um, the Vandivere Alumni Scholarship,” said Gretchen.

  “So Nysa got your scholarship,” Josie said. “I bet that didn’t sit very well with you, now did it?”

  “Nysa deserved it,” Hudson said.

  “You weren’t angry about the fact that you lost it and she got it?” Josie said.

  Finally, Hudson met her eyes. “No, I wasn’t.”

  Gretchen said, “Hudson, it’s really hard to believe you when you have a track record of lying. You lied about not knowing who Nysa might have been with the night before she died. You lied about not knowing whether or not she was seeing anyone. You lied about why you lost your scholarship. You lied about not recognizing Doug’s creepy little sticker. At this point, Doug Merlos has more credibility than you. He didn’t hold anything back.” Gretchen winced. “Even Coach Pace came clean with us.”

  Here they let the silence stretch on until the ticking of the wall clock became thunderous. Josie had counted ninety-seven ticks when Hudson finally said, “What do you want me to say?”

  “We don’t want you to say anything,” Josie said. “We want you to tell us the truth.”

  “I am telling you the truth.”

  “Not about the Devil’s Breath,” Josie pointed out.

  He blew out a long breath. “Fine. You’re right. I wasn’t completely honest about that, but I didn’t help Doug make the drug. All I did was help him test it out, okay?”

  “Test it out how?” Josie asked.

  “I took it so he could see what happened, if it was for real.”

  Gretchen said, “Doug gave you Devil’s Breath and taped you?”

  He looked at her. “Yeah. We wanted to see if it was real. ’Cause Doug said it made people into zombies and you could get them to do whatever you said, and they wouldn’t remember anything. So I took it and he taped me and then he did it, and I taped him. Then he got the idea to make his own, like try to start some stupid business or something, and so I took a couple of doses of the Devil’s Breath he made—it wasn’t real, it was like some combination of an over-the-counter drug and some plant or something—and he taped me while I was on that. It wasn’t a big deal since I didn’t remember anything, and Doug said it wouldn’t stay in my system so I wouldn’t run into any problems with drug testing for the swim team. We kept testing it until he had something that did pretty much the exact same thing as the real Devil’s Breath. He was obsessed with it.”

  “What happened to those videos?” Josie asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m sure he deleted them. We took them on his phone. I mean, that shit fucks you up. Anyway, he started making the videos and then he got in big trouble, and we both got screwed and that was it.”

  “You never gave the drug to anyone?” Gretchen asked.

  “No.”

  “What about Nysa?” Josie asked.

  “What? No. I didn’t—you think I gave Nysa Devil’s Breath?” He touched his chest. “I don’t even have any. We got rid of it. We had to. We couldn’t keep it. Doug flushed his down the toilet after shit went down with Robyn. Even if I had some, I wouldn’t give it to anyone. Especially Nysa. She was a good person. I would never do that to her. I wouldn’t even do it to someone I didn’t like, let alone someone I cared about, like Nysa.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Hudson,” Josie said, pushing. “Doug knew how to make this stuff. He’d done it bef
ore. He still lives in Denton. It would have been no problem for you to get more of it. Hell, maybe he didn’t flush it all down the toilet. Maybe you took some before he could get rid of it all. You dosed Nysa just like Doug did to Robyn and then you put an alert on her phone. You knew damn well that when she read it, she’d likely die.”

  “What? No, no, no. What are you even talking about? An alert on her phone for what? I didn’t do anything. I didn’t even see her. I didn’t give her anything. I didn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”

  “But you did, didn’t you?” Josie said. “You baked the Devil’s Breath into some brownies, and you gave one to Nysa and sent her to the pool to drown. Then you stopped at the house of a decorated firefighter the next day, gave him a brownie, and told him to burn his house down. You used Doug’s stickers so the investigation would lead back to him, but you lied about having seen them so we wouldn’t suspect you. Then, sometime after Detective Mettner and I interviewed you on Monday, you dumped the rest of the brownies at a charity bake sale so it would all look random.”

  With each accusation, more and more color left his face. His mouth hung open. It took several seconds of him opening and closing it before he was able to say, “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Where’s the rest of the Devil’s Breath?” Gretchen said, her voice cool to Josie’s hot anger.

  “I told you. I don’t have any. I got rid of it. That shit already messed up my life enough. I lost my swimming scholarship.”

  “What about Clay Walsh?” Gretchen asked. “Would you give it to him?”

  Confusion creased his brow. “Who’s that? I don’t know anyone by that name.”

  A beat of silence passed. Then Josie said, “What about Precious Paws Rescue and Adoption Center? Does that name sound familiar to you?”

  The faintest flicker of shock passed over his features. His voice was shaky as he answered, “No. I don’t know that place.”

  Forty-One

  “Another Oscar winner,” Gretchen mumbled as they stood in the Chief’s office, watching from the window as Hudson walked out onto the sidewalk where Hummel had left his car. “What do you think?”

  Josie massaged her temples where a dull ache was turning into a full-bodied throb. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”

  Below them, Hudson took out his phone, which Gretchen had returned to him before letting him go. His fingers punched angrily at it and then he pressed it to his ear.

  “Three guesses who he’s calling,” said Gretchen. “You think his mom’s going to come down here all ‘batshit crazy’ and try to clean up the mess he’s gotten himself into?”

  Pacing back and forth beside his car, Hudson’s mouth moved, spittle flying. They couldn’t hear his words, but it was obvious he was shouting.

  “I hope not,” Josie said. “Maybe he’s not calling her. Maybe he’s calling Doug Merlos? Maybe he doesn’t keep Doug as a contact in his phone because he’s Hudson’s drug dealer? Or maybe after we found the sticker on Monday and showed it to him while we were interviewing him, he removed all evidence of his association with Doug.”

  “Maybe,” Gretchen said. “You think this kid is good for this?”

  Hudson continued to pace, phone against his ear, now biting the fingernails of his left hand. Listening. Who was on the other end? “I think he’s as good a suspect as Brett Pace or Doug Merlos. He’s got no real alibi from one a.m. onward for the night that Nysa was missing. If we could connect him to the Clay Walsh fire, that would go a long way.”

  Gretchen said, “Hummel should have those coordinates in a report for us within the hour.”

  “He was definitely lying about not knowing the animal rescue.”

  “Yeah. I saw that.”

  Hudson stopped pacing. His mouth moved, more calmly now. One fist hung clenched at his side.

  “I think we should follow him,” Josie said. “Now he knows exactly what we’re after. If he’s got any tracks to cover, he’s going to do it now.”

  “Agreed,” Gretchen said. “Let’s go.”

  Josie drove, in her rental car. They followed Hudson Tinning through the center of town and toward the campus. But instead of turning onto the road that led to Hollister Way, he kept going. For a few minutes, Josie wondered if he was headed to visit Coach Pace, but then he turned off into a development about a mile before Pace’s house. It was a quaint little neighborhood, built by developers twenty-five years earlier, and it attracted mostly working-class homeowners: teachers, tradespeople, nurses, and even some of Denton’s patrol officers lived there. They stayed back as far as possible while Hudson weaved his way through the tree-lined streets. It was midday, so there weren’t many people out and most of the driveways were empty, including the one Hudson pulled into. The driveway belonged to a bungalow with deep-blue siding and white trim. The tiny yard was well kept and boasted a small flower bed awash with brightly colored flowers. It was cheery and warm. Inviting.

  “His mom’s place,” Josie said. “Can you check?”

  Gretchen said, “We don’t have a mobile data terminal in here, boss.”

  “Use your phone,” Josie told her. “You can log in to the county property records search site.” She rattled off the address as Gretchen put on her reading glasses and started tapping away at her phone. Josie drove around the block once and then parked three houses down but within full view of the house. Hudson stood near the front door, fiddling with his keys.

  Gretchen said, “This house was purchased by Bradley and Mary Tinning twenty-five years ago.”

  “I knew it.”

  Hudson used one of the keys on his keyring to unlock the door. He disappeared inside the house, closing the door behind him. Josie looked at the dashboard clock, noting the time so she could say for certain how long he was inside.

  It turned out not to be very long. He emerged fifteen minutes later carrying a Vera Bradley tote bag. Tossing it into the passenger’s seat of his Nissan, he hurried around the front of the car and got in.

  “He’s in a hurry,” Gretchen observed. “How much you want to bet he’s got some of Doug Merlos’ Devil’s Breath in Mom’s tote bag there?”

  Josie watched Hudson back out of the driveway so fast that the tires squealed. Something in the back of her mind flashed and disappeared, like lightning, trying to illuminate some detail she’d overlooked in the investigation.

  “Boss?” Gretchen said.

  Josie threw the rental in drive and took off after Hudson, trying to remain inconspicuous but keep up with him. They followed him back out of the development and into town. He skirted the city park and turned north, heading out of Denton proper.

  “Where’s he going?” Gretchen asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Josie. She kept her eye on Hudson’s vehicle as she searched the inner sanctum of her mind for what she was missing. She needed that lightning flash again. Just one more time and she might be able to see what she’d missed.

  Gretchen said, “Should we call for backup?”

  “No,” Josie said. “Not yet. I don’t want to spook him. Let’s see where he’s headed.”

  Her stomach tightened when he turned onto the road that led to Tiny Tykes. He picked up speed as they went higher up the mountain. They passed Clay Walsh’s driveway, now cordoned off with yellow caution tape. It was only after Hudson passed the entrance to the Tiny Tykes parking lot without even slowing down that Josie let out a breath of relief.

  “Where does this go?” Gretchen asked.

  “It doesn’t go anywhere,” Josie said. “It’s like this for miles and miles. Eventually, we’ll cross some highways, a couple of tiny towns, a state park.”

  Josie hung further and further back so Hudson wouldn’t get suspicious. No other vehicles followed them or passed from the other direction. Trees closed in on them from both sides of the road. Occasionally, there was a break where a driveway or a house sat along the side of the road.

  “What’s that?”
Gretchen said, pointing at a blinking red light visible in the distance.

  “Railroad crossing,” Josie said.

  As they drew closer, they saw where the railroad tracks crossed the road. Lines had been painted on either side of them and a railroad crossing signal stood sentry on the right, its red lights blinking steadily, and its arms pointing skyward, ready to lower should a train cross. Josie expected Hudson to fly right through it but instead he slowed. Without using his turn signal, he turned right. Josie slowed, still several car lengths behind him on the road.

  “It’s a service road,” Gretchen said. She had her phone out and her reading glasses on. “Let me see if I can get Google Maps.”

  “You won’t get cell service out here,” Josie told her.

  “Sure I will. I’ll make a mobile hotspot.”

  “Good luck with that.”

  Josie crept along the road until they were only a few feet from the crossing, now glad no one was behind her. Just as Gretchen said, there was a small, paved, one-lane road that ran alongside the railroad tracks on the right-hand side. As they drew closer, Josie craned her neck to peer around the trees right at the bend, but Hudson’s vehicle wasn’t visible.

  Gretchen said, “I got it! Here we go. I’ve got the satellite view. It’s a small service road that leads to… that looks like a bridge.”

  Josie hadn’t spent much time north of Denton. Whenever she’d been out here, it was to get somewhere else. She knew the railroad weaved through the mountains, but she wasn’t familiar with this particular area. “Let me see,” she said, stopping the vehicle just before the turn.

  Gretchen turned her phone screen toward Josie. There were no houses. Just trees, the service road, the railroad, and then more trees. Josie said, “The service road drops off where the bridge starts. This dead-ends at the abutment.”

  “Right,” said Gretchen. “You want to wait for him to come out, or you want to see what the hell he’s doing on a railroad bridge?”