by Staci Hart
Artemis’s temper flared hot and bright. “I know Josie. Do you not believe that I would protect her?”
Eleni blew out a breath and folded her arms. “You know too little of humans to assume as much as you do. I believe you would protect her, yes, but the competition stands in your way. Should she fall into any danger, you could be helpless to interfere. But none of this matters because you have set your plan into motion with no regard for anyone’s perspective but your own.”
The words bit at Artemis’s conscience, and the niggling doubt in the back of her mind grew stronger and stronger with each argument on the matter.
Her wrath writhed under her skin as she stood and took steps toward Eleni, backing her out of the tent and into the center of camp.
“I do not need your blessing, Nephelai. I am Artemis, Goddess of Wilds, Lady of the Moon, The Huntress, The Maiden, Daughter of Zeus, and your mistress.”
The afternoon sky grew dark as midnight, the stars and moon so bright, they were overexposed. Night creatures woke and sang their songs—crickets and owls, frogs that croaked and hopped into the clearing—as fireflies buzzed in streaks against the tree line.
The nymphs shrank back with their eyes on the sky, and Artemis glowed white and cool as the moon.
“I do not need your blessing,” she said to her camp, her voice booming through the trees. “I do not need your permission. And I will hear no more of this.”
Her wrath ebbed as she turned for her tent once again just as Eleni fell to her knees, trembling in the dust. The daylight returned, the moon gone for the time, and all was once again as it should be.
The sky had grown dark outside Jon’s window, that eerie, ominous dimming of light to dark that came on suddenly, as if the sun had been blotted out. Rain clouds tumbled through the sky, and the low rumble of thunder rolled in the distance. He leaned against the wall with his front chair legs in the air as he eyed the replica of Josie’s evidence wall across the room with one hand rubbing his chin and the other tapping his pencil on his blue notebook resting on his thigh.
The day before had been spent compiling his own version of her wall, and he’d been up almost all night cataloging everything he’d found. He’d started at the beginning, marking each article, every bit of information, getting all of it into a massive spreadsheet before beginning to scour the internet for the articles and police blotters she’d used to build what she had. He’d printed them all to highlight and note them, and as the case had come together in his mind, it had grown until he made one solitary revelation.
Josie was right.
Try as he might, he found no holes other than the lack of substantial, admissible evidence. Rhodes made perfect sense. If he’d killed Jane, Hannah, and Anne, Jon didn’t doubt for a second that he’d killed the other girls too. It was too specific to be a coincidence, not with that many murders.
The question was, what could he do about it?
Josie had information he didn’t. Not all the facts on the wall were fully legible, and some weren’t visible in the photos he’d taken, covered up by other articles or photos. Not to mention, all the details and connections that only existed in her mind. If she’d been shadowing Rhodes at the level he figured she’d been, she’d know his routine, his habits. She’d know Rhodes, maybe better than anyone.
With all that knowledge, there was no way for Jon to walk away. He had to convince her to let him help and wondered if he could win her over by discovering something she hadn’t seen. Hence the wall-staring through the course of the day.
But he knew it was a long shot.
There was no way Josie had missed anything.
The more he learned, the deeper his concerns rooted. Rhodes was dangerous, and Josie was in deep with no one to watch her back.
Jon’s door opened, and Tori walked in with a sandwich and a beer.
“Hey. Brought you a snack.” She wiggled the plate at him.
His stomach gurgled. He hadn’t realized he was hungry. “Thanks. I’m starvin’.” He leaned forward and put all four chair legs back on the ground as he reached for the offered bottle and plate.
“I figured. You’ve barely left your room.” Tori made her way around his bedroom, flicking on lights. When she clicked on the lamp next to his bed, it lit up the wall, and she sucked in a breath when she saw it. “Holy,” she whispered.
“Yep,” Jon said around a mouthful of sandwich.
“I mean, seriously,” she said as her eyes roamed the wall. “She must have been working on this nonstop since Anne died.”
“If I know her, that’s exactly what she’s been doing.”
Tori stared at the wall in stunned silence while he inhaled the sandwich and took a long pull of the beer. He laid the plate on the ground between his bare feet and rested his elbows on his knees, holding the bottle loose in his hands.
“Have you made any sense of it?” Tori asked after a minute.
Jon nodded. “It wasn’t hard. Josie’s meticulous.” He paused with his eyes on Rhodes’s photo in the center. “I think he did it.”
“Jesus. And you said she’s following him?” Tori turned to look at him.
“She is. She’s been staking out his place and who knows what else. I wouldn’t doubt for a second that she’s been in there at least a handful of times.”
“Why would she do that? If he did all this,” she said, motioning to the wall, which was punctuated by photographs of dead girls, “how the hell is she so sure that he wouldn’t do the same to her?”
“Because she thinks she can outsmart him. She’s got a strong invincibility streak.”
“Damn the two of you.” Tori shook her head. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”
“We do, and a strong one at that, but we also believe the rules don’t generally apply to us.”
“Idiots,” she said with another shake of her head as she ran her eyes over the wall again. “I say that with love.” She paused. “You’ve got to help her. She can’t be safe.”
“I know it. I’m trying to find something new, but it’s probably a lost cause. She’s been staring at this wall for half a year, and I didn’t even know it existed until thirty-six hours ago. There has to be some way to convince her to let me help, but it’s not gonna be easy. I’m about the last person in the world she wants to see.”
“Well, you broke into her house. I’d be pissed too.”
“I had a key. Nobody acknowledges the fact that I had a damn key.”
“Because that makes it okay.” Tori rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do if you can’t figure anything new out? What’s your plan B?”
“I don’t have one.”
“You need to go talk to her. Make her listen.”
Jon chuffed. “Nobody makes Josie do anything.”
“Can’t you just try to talk some sense into her?” Tori asked.
“Sure, until things get tough, and she walks away.”
“Sounds familiar,” Tori scoffed. “You definitely have a type.”
“More like a curse.”
“Ha, ha. There’s got to be some way to get her to let you help,” Tori said, almost to herself. She turned to him. “If you could at least get your foot in the door, you could push it open. You’re sneaky like that.”
“I have nothing to bargain with. She doesn’t need me—or doesn’t think she does at least. Why should she tell me anything?”
“You need an angle.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, maybe if I just got her to share information so I could look into it on my own…maybe she would agree to that? Maybe. If I had more information, I could make a little more sense of everything.”
“If nothing else, it might get you back on speaking terms.”
He nodded, relieved at having a plan. “All right. I’ll go to her place tomorrow and see if I can convince her.”
“Good boy.” Tori reached for his plate and gave him a wink as she left.
Jon sat in his room, his eyes
on that wall, wondering if there was any way he had a chance and hoping to God he did. Because he couldn’t stand by anymore.
Day 7
THE COLD AIR FELT glorious against Josie’s sweaty skin as she walked up to her building that morning with hands on her hips and lungs burning from her run. She paced the sidewalk in front of her stairs, trying to catch her breath before she made her way inside, not expecting what she found when she reached her hallway.
Her father was banging on the door, his phone pressed to his ear and his face tight. Hank jumped when he saw her, his worry melting into relief as he pulled her into a hug. “Jesus, Jo. Where have you been?”
“I went for a run, just like every morning. What’s the matter?”
He squeezed her tighter.
“I’m all sweaty, Dad.”
“I don’t care.”
She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, not sure what was going on.
After a moment, he pulled back and looked at her. “Let’s go inside.”
“Um…” She panicked.
He hadn’t been over since before Anne died. Hadn’t seen the crime shrine.
He shook his head, and something in his body language set off alarms. “The mess won’t bother me. We need to talk, and I don’t think you’ll want to be in the hallway.”
Goosebumps ran up her arms to her neck. “What happened?”
“Inside.” He jerked his chin at her door. “Come on.”
There was no avoiding it. Josie unlocked her door, trying to stay cool as they stepped in. She didn’t miss the second he saw the wall. The breath he pulled sucked all the air from the room.
“Sweet mother of God,” he breathed.
“Dad—”
Hank held up a hand to stop her, though his eyes were locked on her wall. He stepped toward it with brows knit and eyes narrow. “What in God’s name is all of this?”
Josie squeezed her hands behind her back. “I’ve been working on the case.”
He turned and made a smart-ass face that didn’t displace his anger. “I can see that.”
She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to say it out loud. “I couldn’t give up. I couldn’t stop looking. You know everything I know. Nothing on that wall is news to you, so how is seeing it like this a surprise?”
“Don’t play with me. This,” he said as he motioned to the wall, “is well above and beyond. Listen, honey, I know this is important to you—”
“No, Dad.” Her voice trembled. “This is everything. Tell me you would have done differently.”
Hank laid his hands on his hips and looked at the ground as he collected himself. “I can’t. I get it, but, Josie, this…” His eyes found the wall again, and he shook his head.
Josie took a breath. “Just look at it. Everything is here—every connection, every victim we’ve been able to find. There could be more, Dad, and now we’ve finally got him. We can bring these families peace by putting him away.”
“Sit down.”
“But, Dad—”
“Sit down, Jo.”
The command was flat and calm, and as she sat, her hands and face went numb.
“There’s a reason I’m here this morning, beating on your door like a crazy man. I kept calling you, and you didn’t answer, and I thought maybe Rhodes…” He looked tortured.
And then she understood. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she answered softly.
“I know. I know you are.” Hank pursed his lips, waiting an agonizing moment before he said, “ Josie, Rhodes is gone.”
The words sent a shock through her, the room dimming. Black spots danced in her vision. There was no air in the room. She dragged in a ragged breath, her lungs screaming.
Gone.
“How…”
“I’m trying to figure that out. I had a patrol in his alley from the time he left the station until this morning when I sent Walker and Davis to his place to hound him. He wasn’t there, wasn’t at any of the places on the list you made of his haunts. He left his phone, his wallet, even his car, but he’s gone. I’ve got a team there combing the place, but if he planned this out…”
She found her voice and looked up at her father. “I have to find him.”
“Now, Josie—” he warned.
She held his eyes. “You’re not going to stop me, so you might as well help me.”
“Goddammit, child,” he hissed and ran a hand through his hair before pointing at her. “If you tell your mother, I swear to all that’s holy—”
“You know I won’t.”
“I do know you won’t. Dammit.” Hank huffed. “I’m not confident we’re going to find anything to help us figure out where he is, Jo. We might not find him, and I need you to think about the what-if, okay?”
Refusal shot through her. “Not yet.”
“No, not yet, but sooner than later.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll call you when we’re finished at Rhodes’s.”
“Okay.”
He watched her for a second like he hated everything about everything. “Be careful, and you get the hell out of there if anything is off. You hear me? You’re not unsinkable, Jo, and if anything should happen to you—”
“Daddy, I know.”
Hank sighed, and the sound weighed a million pounds. “I trust you. I know you’ll be smart. I don’t think he’s hanging around, but you need to assume he’s around every corner. I wish more than anything that you had a partner.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll be careful,” she promised.
“Come here.” He opened his arms, and she found herself curled up against his chest. “I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too.”
Hank left Josie standing in her living room, and she stared at the wall for seconds or minutes—she wasn’t sure. She turned and grabbed her gun holster and keys. And when she walked out of her apartment to her car, it was with her gun swaying by her calf as the holster hung loose in her hand.
Think, Josie. Wake up.
Rhodes was gone—fucking gone—and she had to find him. It was the only thing to do, but she couldn’t comprehend how as she sped toward the shooting range. It was the one place she knew she could think.
Josie showed the attendant her membership card and signed in. The indoor range was completely empty, so she walked straight to a booth and set down her gun, extra magazines, and a box of ammo. The second she took aim, she fired in succession until the bullets were gone, immediately discarding the empty magazine to slide another in. As she fired again, the force of each shot reverberated up her arms, to her shoulders, up her neck, and into her brain. The feeling of control wound its way through her, pumping with every jolt as her heart slammed against her ribs.
She tallied the things she’d need to do as her mind ground into motion. She’d need to go to his house, talk to his neighbors. Call in some favors and see if she could find out if he’d pulled out any money. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
But first, I need to calm the fuck down.
So she emptied the magazine again, hitting the mark dead center every time.
Jon climbed the stairs of Josie’s apartment with his eyes on his boots, running through his speech in his head, wondering how much of a fight he was in for.
He stopped when a low, rough voice said, “Landreaux?”
Jon stopped dead at the sound, smelling roses as he looked up to the landing, confused when his eyes met Hank Campbell’s.
“Mr. Campbell?”
Hank slipped his hands into his pockets and descended a couple of steps. “If you came for Josie, she’s not here.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Hank glanced back over his shoulder. “We must have just missed her. Her phone is in there, too. Damn her. I can hear it ringing.”
“She left her phone?” Jon was shocked at the thought.
“Yeah. She was a little upset when I left a bit ago, but I have a feeling I know where she is.”
Jon’s brows dropped. “What happened?”
“I shouldn’t tell you anything, you know.”
“I get that a lot from the Campbells.”
“Can you blame us?” Hank asked.
“No, I don’t suppose I can.”
Hank looked Jon over and folded his arms. “I know what happened between you and my daughter, and I’ll tell you that from my end—and off the record—I think she’s in the wrong. I know how much she cares about you. She needs a friend, and she needs someone to watch her back. Can I trust you to do that?”
“Yes, sir, I can try. It really all depends on Josie.”
He shifted, and his face was tight with worry. “How much do you know about Anne’s death?”
“I know they were looking for a missing girl, and I know that Jo suspects that a man by the name of Corey Rhodes killed Anne, Hannah, and a number of other girls, mostly prostitutes.”
“She tell you all that?” Hank didn’t look like he believed it.
Jon smirked. “In a way.”
“Josie found Anne’s necklace two days ago stuck in her window rail, and it had his fingerprint on it. She lifted it and got a match off of a can in Rhodes’s garbage.”
“Holy shit.” Jon reached for the handrail and gripped it tight.
Hank nodded. “Except after we brought him in yesterday, he lawyered up, left the station, and disappeared.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jon whispered.
“I came back since I couldn’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t have left her alone after dropping that kind of news, but she was already gone. I can’t really go looking for her right now. I’ve got to get back to the station, but I have an idea where she is.”
“All right. What can I do?”
“First, I need to know something. Why didn’t you say goodbye to her?”
Jon swallowed, his throat dry and eyes pleading. “I tried. I told her everything in a letter, but she never got it. I couldn’t say it out loud, and I know what that makes me, but if I could do it over again…”
Hank’s hard face softened by a degree. “You hurt her again, and I’ll gut you.”