Her Mother’s Grave_Absolutely gripping crime fiction with unputdownable mystery and suspense

by Lisa Regan

  Finally, mercifully, she passed out.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Josie was awoken by the intense pounding in her head, like someone was driving spikes into her temples. She dared not open her eyes as her mind searched for some thread that would lead her back to reality. Where was she? How had she gotten there? Where was she last?

  She focused on her senses. Her mouth was painfully dry, her lips pasted together. It seemed as though every inch of her body ached. It only took a small attempt at movement to realize she was hog-tied—hands tied behind her back and then bound to her feet, which bent behind her, her heels pressing into her buttocks. The air around her was warm though, and her cheek rested against something surprisingly soft.

  Not the dye machine.

  Then it came back to her: Sophia Bowen, the textile mill, her team breaching the doors on the first floor, the struggle in the stairwell, being stuffed into the bowels of the old machine. How many hours had Josie spent in there? The very thought brought bile to the back of Josie’s throat, and she choked out a series of coughs. Her eyes snapped open. She was lying on a carpeted floor, her face next to what looked like a bed—the box spring set right onto the floor without a frame. Sunlight streamed from somewhere overhead, though she couldn’t turn her body to see.

  For just a moment, she was so grateful to be out of the dark hole Sophia had put her into, she thought she might cry. Taking several deep breaths, she tested her restraints again. She was stuck, everywhere except her head, which she lifted and turned in the other direction, coming face to face with Trinity Payne, whose swollen, bruised face lay inches from hers. Dried blood crusted at the corner of her lips, her nose looked crooked and smashed, and a wheezing sound came from her as she breathed.

  Josie felt a surge of relief, despite their circumstances. If she was breathing, Trinity was still alive. Josie called her name a few times, but she didn’t stir. Josie wiggled closer, trying to touch some part of her face against Trinity’s, but she could barely move. She puckered her lips and blew air at Trinity’s face. After the fourth or fifth try, Trinity’s mouth twisted, and her eyelids fluttered open as far as they could. Trinity attempted to speak, but nothing came out. Licking her lips, she tried again, her voice scratchy but audible this time. “What are you doing here?”

  “Where is here?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Trinity said. “I’m not sure.”

  “I saw you on video at the body shop.”

  Josie thought she saw a tear leak from the corner of one of Trinity’s eyes. “I didn’t want to do it. She made me.”

  “Lila?”

  Trinity made an attempt at shaking her head but stopped immediately, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath. “Barbara Rhodes.”

  The name was familiar. Why did Josie know that name?

  “How did she get you to do it?” Josie asked.

  “First she called me and said she had a story for me—the fire that killed my sister. She said she had proof of who’d really set it—someone from the cleaning service my mom used—then she hinted that my sister wasn’t really dead.”

  “My God,” Josie said.

  “I didn’t want to upset my mom in case it was bullshit, but she knew things, details I only ever heard my parents talk about. She made me meet her a few blocks away from the hotel. Said I had to walk, no car, no bag—she was afraid I’d hide a weapon—and she made me promise I wouldn’t bring my phone. She said she didn’t want me recording her or sending information from my phone until she knew she could trust me. She said she would give me ten minutes, and if I wasn’t there in time, she would be gone forever. I thought she might be dangerous, but when I showed up, she was just this fat old lady. She wasn’t even armed, and she was so nice. I didn’t think she was…”

  Trinity broke off as a cough erupted from her body, spraying blood from her lips onto Josie’s face. “Sorry,” Trinity said as the coughing fit receded.

  “It’s okay,” Josie said. “You didn’t think Barbara was a threat?”

  “Right,” Trinity said. “I got in her car, and we started driving. She mentioned some diner, and I knew the one she was talking about, so I thought it was okay. When it became apparent that she wasn’t taking me there, I confronted her. That’s when she told me that if I wanted the story, I had to do something for her.”

  “You killed Ted Heinrich for a story?” Josie couldn’t keep her voice from rising.

  Trinity looked as though she was trying to shake her head. “Not a story—and I didn’t kill anyone. When she told me what she wanted me to do, I told her she was crazy. I told her to pull over and let me out; I’d walk back to my hotel. She pulled over. I got out. But she came after me. We were on this quiet little mountain road. No one around. We had a fight. She won. I woke—I don’t know where. Could have been here. Tied up. She told me I would do what she said, or my family would die. She had help, Josie. She was facetiming with some guy who was outside my parents’ house. She told me if I didn’t do exactly what she said, she would kill them all. My parents and my little brother.”

  “How old is your brother?”

  “He’s only sixteen. This guy was following him around. Taking photos of him. I don’t know who he was, but I was terrified, so I did what she said. She drove for what seemed like hours and then parked a block away from the body shop. Some other guy pulled up in an Escape. She told me to get in, drive to the body shop, and go inside. As soon as they left me alone in it, I checked the glove compartment. It was your car. I knew then that whatever she was doing had something to do with hurting you. Then when I got inside the body shop, she was already there. She came in through another entrance—in the back. The owner was already tied up. He was in bad shape. She made me watch while she tortured him. She said if I tried to run away, that’s what would happen to Patrick. She told me to drive back to her car, and her friend would take the Escape off my hands. He tied me back up, put me in her trunk, and left in your car. I was in there for hours just trying to figure out why they were involving you. Why both of us? Then I thought about why she’d contacted me in the first place—telling me my sister might still be alive. There’s always been such a resemblance between us. Surely you’ve noticed it too?” There was a hopefulness to Trinity’s voice.

  “Yeah,” Josie said. “I noticed.”

  “So then I thought maybe what she said was true—that someone from the cleaning service burned our house down and took my sister. And maybe my sister was really alive after all. And… and maybe it was you.”

  Only a DNA test would tell them for sure, but Josie felt in her heart and her gut that Trinity was right. They were sisters. “What’s my… what’s my real name?” Josie asked.

  Something that looked like a smile stretched across Trinity’s battered face. “Vanessa. Vanessa Anabelle Payne.”

  Josie groaned. “I like Josie better.”

  “Very funny.”

  It was still too much to wrap her head around. Her entire life was a lie. She’d been taken from her family and raised in poverty by a woman whose cruelty knew no bounds. All the while, her actual family was only two hours away in an affluent small town, mourning her loss. Every time she thought about it, the room seemed to spin. She brought the subject back to Heinrich. “This woman—did she tell you why she was targeting the man in the body shop?”

  “No. She just said I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. I tried to stop her, but she said if anything happened to her, her friends would hurt Patrick. I should have tried harder. I should have tried to save that man.” Tears leaked from Trinity’s eyes. A bloody snot bubble popped in her nostril.

  “It’s okay,” Josie said. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.”

  “It was disgusting. The smell. She made me watch.”

  “Stop crying,” Josie said as more liquid leaked from Trinity’s nose. “You can barely breathe as it is. I need you to keep it together.”

  “I can’t,” Trinity blubbered.

  “You can
, and you will. We need to find a way out of this.”

  “Yeah, right. How are we going to get out of this?”

  “Have you tried shouting for help?” Josie wondered.

  “How do you think my face got like this?” Trinity replied.

  Again, Josie tested her bindings, but there was little give. Already in the short time she had been awake, her shoulders and legs began to ache.

  “She’s not going to leave us here like this,” Josie said. “At some point she’s going to have to move us. That will be our chance.”

  “Not if she’s got one of her friends with her.”

  Josie didn’t respond. Somewhere nearby, a door banged open and closed. Muffled female voices traveled toward them, getting increasingly clearer.

  “Don’t ever summon me again.” The sound of Lila’s voice after so many years sent a shudder through Josie’s body.

  The second voice was Sophia’s. “I had no choice. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be in this damn mess. We had a deal, and you went back on it when you showed back up here, so I’ll summon you whenever I please.”

  Josie heard what was most definitely a slap, then a gasp, and what sounded like a tussle—grunts and thuds and then glass breaking. So, Lila had come to the mill and helped Sophia transport her.

  “…and I’ll use it. Get away from me. Get back…” It was Sophia. The sounds of struggle had stilled. Josie imagined she must have pulled her gun. Sophia added, “Now, you’ll clean up this mess you made, and you’ll leave Denton once and for all.”

  “Not without my money,” Lila said.

  Josie expected Sophia to protest or threaten Lila some more, but all she said was, “Fine. Come see me after you’ve finished whatever this is you’re doing.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a few more people to visit after this,” Lila said.

  “Why? Why are you doing this? Why can’t you leave the past in the past?” Sophia cried.

  “Because I ain’t got much time left.”

  “What did these people ever do to you?” Sophia asked.

  “They think they’re better than me, that’s what. I’m through being treated like dirt.”

  There was a heavy sigh. Then Sophia said, “You’re paranoid. No one thinks they’re better than you, and that’s not a reason to ruin people’s lives.”

  “Says the hoity-toity bitch who lied and paid me off to keep her and her husband’s reputation clean,” Lila shot back. “Now put that thing away.”

  There was a beat of silence. Then Sophia said, “Malcolm told me what was in your file before he destroyed it. He and Mrs. Ortiz had quite the shock over it.”

  Lila’s voice was hard and menacing. “You better leave now before I change my mind about killing you.”

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Josie waited for Lila to come into the room where she and Trinity were sandwiched between a bed and the wall, but she didn’t come. Trinity fell back to sleep, her broken nose whistling. Josie racked her brain, trying to figure out where Lila would be keeping them, her mind still addled from the pistol-whipping Sophia had given her. She couldn’t tell if hours or minutes were passing. She thought about calling out to Lila, but she didn’t want to draw her attention until she had some kind of plan. She was just drifting off when the sound of a phone ringing came from another room. Again, she heard Lila’s voice. “Hello? Yeah, this is Barbara. Okay, I’ll be right over.” Then there was the sound of a door slamming. Lila had gone out.

  Again, Josie wondered why the name Barbara was so familiar to her. Then she remembered arriving at the trailer park the day the Price boys had found human remains. The neighbor who had been watching them, who had called 911, was named Barbara Rhodes. Josie hadn’t met her because she’d already been interviewed and sent home by the time Josie got there.

  Belinda Rose. Barbara Rhodes.

  “Son of a bitch,” Josie said. She wiggled closer to Trinity, rocking her body from side to side until one of her elbows nudged Trinity. “Wake up. Trinity, wake up!”

  Had Lila been under Josie’s nose all along, now posing as Barbara Rhodes? Noah had interviewed her the day they found the bones and not long after seen the sixteen-year-old photo of Lila Jensen that Dex had given her. Why hadn’t Noah made the connection? Trinity had said Barbara was overweight and old. It had been sixteen years; perhaps Lila looked markedly different.

  “Trinity,” Josie said. “I think I know where we are. I think we’re in the trailer park.”

  Trinity stirred with a soft moan but didn’t wake up.

  “Trinity. Wake. Up. Lila’s out. We’re in the trailer park. I think we should scream. Someone might hear us.”

  Josie thought of the little Price boys living next door with their mother. She took in a deep breath and started screaming at the top of her lungs. She screamed until her throat ached and her lungs could take no more, periodically falling silent to listen for anyone who might be coming. There was nothing.

  Trinity’s voice was barely audible. “No one will hear you. Don’t waste your time.”

  Josie knew she was right. Josie had grown up in this very park, and no one had heard her screams then either. Or if they had, they hadn’t come to her rescue. “If she hears you,” Trinity added, “she’ll hurt you.”

  “She’s already hurt me,” Josie said and filled her lungs to scream some more.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  She shouted until there was barely anything left of her voice. Next to her, Trinity wept. At long last, as her cries receded into helpless croaks, Josie heard a door open and close, and heavy footsteps approach. She heard another door swish open, and the air in the tiny room changed. Josie’s heart paused, and then kicked back into motion. “Josie,” Trinity whispered. “I think I wet myself.”

  “Shhh,” Josie said. “I’m going to get us out of this.”

  Josie had to crane her neck to see a fat pair of ankles beneath the hem of a white cotton dress approach. She had just enough time to notice Lila’s feet were crammed into a pair of ugly, black flats before she was yanked up by the bicep and tossed onto the bed. She fell on her back, her hands and feet crushing painfully beneath her. Lila’s face loomed above her.

  Josie saw immediately why Noah had not recognized her, how he couldn’t possibly have recognized her as the woman in the photo Dex had given her. Now in her sixties, Lila Jensen’s long, silky black hair had gone shock white. Gone was the sheen, replaced by a straggly mane of thick, dry strands that tumbled down her back. She had gained weight. A lot of weight. Her flesh spilled out from the shapeless white dress draped over her form. Her once smooth, youthful, pale skin was stretched taut from the added pounds, her cheeks so chubby they seemed to swallow her eyes. Sophia had said Lila was sick, and Lila herself had said she didn’t have much time. Josie wondered with what. Cancer perhaps?

  “Little JoJo,” Lila said.

  It was the eyes that gave her away, though. They narrowed as Lila smiled the smile that had filled Josie with unbridled terror for as long as she could possibly remember. The little girl inside of her recoiled, but the adult inside her—the chief of police—fought back.

  “My name is Josie,” she said.

  Lila cackled. “No. It’s not. That’s not even your name.” She kicked out a leg, and Josie heard Trinity grunt. “Hey princess, what’s your little bitch sister’s name again?”

  There was only the sound of Trinity weeping.

  “Why are you doing this?” Josie asked, trying to draw Lila’s attention away from Trinity. “Why did you do it? You took away my life. Everything. My real mother thought I was dead. My whole family. Why?”

  “Why not?” Lila said.

  “You could have walked away,” Josie said. “At any time.”

  Lila’s face flushed, and her eyes glowed with anger. She pointed a pudgy finger to her chest. “You think I get to walk away from this life? Is that what you think? That I ever had a chance to walk away? All those godawful foster homes with their degenerate foster parents?
What a joke. I wanted to walk away. I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. Everyone else got two parents, money, loving homes. Bullshit. I got nothing. Even that slut, Belinda. She got to live in a nice foster home with a woman who loved and protected her girls. What did I get? Every shitty home I went to, someone hurt me, and no one did a damn thing about it. When I left the homes, it didn’t stop. Why should other people get to live perfect lives while I get shit on over and over and over again?”

  Josie watched in perfect stillness as spittle flew from Lila’s mouth. She had a feeling that Lila had been waiting a very long time to unleash that particular tirade. When she finished, Josie asked, “But why me? Why did you take me?”

  “Because I could. You were there. I kept waiting for the police to come for you, and they never did. Then I didn’t know what the hell to do with you, so I came and found Eli. I knew he would take care of you if I told him you were his. Except he went and fell in love with you, didn’t he?”

  “He thought he was my father,” Josie said. It hurt to say it out loud; Eli Matson was the only father she had ever known. Her memories were old and out of focus now, but what she remembered most about her father was how much he had loved her and how safe she had felt whenever she was with him.

  “He was mine. He was supposed to love me more,” Lila said. “After I gave him the baby he so desperately wanted, he turned against me, he hated me in return. How’s that for sense?”

  Josie remembered her father uttering those words in the hospital after her mother had taken a knife to her face: “I hate you.” The battle for Josie had started a while before that, but that was the first time she’d ever heard him say those words. Other memories came flooding back to Josie. The conversation she had heard from her bedroom the night her father killed himself was eerily similar to the exchange she had heard earlier between Lila and Sophia when they had been arguing—suddenly Lila’s tone changed completely, became calmer and a little nervous. Josie’s skin prickled, goosebumps erupting all over her flesh. She might not have believed it before, but after what she had learned about Lila in the last few weeks, there was no doubt in her mind now that she was capable of something that unthinkable.