by Lisa Regan
“Gram,” she said. “You know about Mr. Gosnell, don’t you? Did they tell you?”
Lisette met Josie’s eyes. “Of course, dear.”
“I’m really sorry, Gram. I wanted him to pay for his crimes.”
Lisette reached a hand across the seat and patted Josie’s knee. Then she smiled at Josie, her eyes twinkling with something that looked very close to satisfaction. It was the same look Josie had seen in her eyes the day that she finally and permanently wrested custody from Josie’s mother. She was triumphant. “Oh, Josie dear, he did pay. Don’t you give him another thought. Things have been set straight.”
Josie’s brow furrowed. “You mean you’re not upset?”
Lisette turned to look out the window. “No, dear. For the first time since my Ramona went missing, I finally feel a bit of… peace.”
“I’m going to find her,” Josie said.
“I know.”
Noah pulled into a parking spot at the funeral home and helped Lisette out. Josie followed behind them. Ray’s mother had planned the service. She had wanted something quick and simple, and neither she nor Josie could afford a large affair. Josie had wanted to get there early so that she could spend a few minutes with him in private. She left Noah and Lisette chatting with Mrs. Quinn while she approached his open casket at the front of the room. The funeral home had done a good job making him look handsome in his police uniform, his blond hair neatly combed, eyes closed in what looked like a peaceful sleep. But somehow he just didn’t look like the man she had loved. She touched his cold hands. This was not her Ray. It was just the shell that had held all the parts—good and bad, wonderful and ugly—that had made him hers for so many years of her life.
Still, she could not stop the tears from rolling down her face. “Damn you,” she muttered to him. “Damn you for leaving me.”
She felt strangely numb and adrift the rest of the day. The hours passed in a blur. She stood in the greeting line beside Ray’s mother. She was too immobilized by grief to even protest when Mrs. Quinn allowed Misty to stand on the other side of her and hug Ray’s mourners as though she had had any place of importance in his life. As though she had mattered that much to him. He never signed the divorce papers, Josie kept thinking. It was small solace.
She hugged every mourner, said the requisite words, half-listened as a pastor she had never met before gave Bible readings. No one gave a eulogy. Neither Josie nor Mrs. Quinn were in any shape to give one, and Ray’s best friend, Dusty, was in jail. After the service, a small group of mourners followed his casket to the cemetery. Josie and Lisette clutched one another and wept as they lowered Ray into the ground. Noah stood sentry behind them. He waited until they were ready to leave, which wasn’t until the graveyard workers finally asked them to go so they could finish their work.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
The next day, Josie sat next to Luke’s hospital bed, holding his warm, meaty palm in hers. They had moved him to a step-down unit, given him a private room, and taken away most of the equipment needed to keep him alive. Now he only had to wear the standard monitoring devices that checked his heart rate, blood pressure and oxygen saturation. All his numbers were stable. Carrieann said he had woken up the day before, briefly, while Josie was at Ray’s funeral. He had asked for Josie. Carrieann hadn’t told him anything, just that Josie would return soon. Then he had fallen back into a deep sleep. Now Josie waited. She could wait as long as she had to. Isabelle Coleman had been found and reunited with her family. The FBI was handling the Gosnell mess, which would likely take months. Ray had been laid to rest. She would have to attend Wayland Harris’s funeral in a few days, which was going to be a spectacular affair befitting her beloved chief. But other than that, she was free to sit with Luke and wait for him to come around. Noah could handle things at the department for a few days.
Josie was watching Luke’s chest rise and fall, her mind back on the conversation she had had with Lisette on the way to Ray’s funeral. Aside from her obvious grief over Ray’s death, Lisette was right. She did seem more at peace. Lighter. Josie would even venture to say happier. She kept thinking about the sparkle in Lisette’s eyes. The flash of triumph.
He’ll never make it to prison, Lisette had said with confidence. He’s too sick.
I mean, we caught her outside of his room a couple of times, just standing there, staring at him. I don’t think it’s healthy. Last night, one of the night shift nurses found her inside his room, standing over his bed.
Oh, Josie dear, he did pay. Don’t you give him another thought. Things have been set straight.
“Hey.” Luke’s voice cut through her thoughts. His hand squeezed hers gently. She looked over to see him smiling wanly at her.
She stood and leaned over him, holding his hand against her chest with both of hers. “Luke,” she breathed. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”
He blinked a few times. “Fuzzy,” he said. “What the hell happened?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No, I remember leaving work, walking to my truck, that’s all. Carrieann said someone shot me.”
Josie nodded. “I’m so sorry.”
He opened his mouth to speak but the effort of the few words he’d already said seemed to wear him out. “It’s okay,” Josie told him. “Just rest. I’m not going anywhere. There will be plenty of time to fill you in later. We got the shooter. Everything is going to be okay.”
He closed his eyes. “I know it will be,” he said. “You’re here now.”
She relinquished his hand and sat back down, studying his face, surprised at how much better the sound of his voice made her feel. He would make a full recovery. They would get married, start a new chapter in both their lives.
She might even let him put a door on her bedroom closet.
Epilogue
Shortly after Luke was discharged from the hospital, Dirk Spencer’s condition took a turn for the better and, eventually, he was released to home where his sister, Lara joined him, caring for him as he recovered from his injuries. Josie checked in on them every couple of weeks. June had been committed to a psychiatric institute for inpatient treatment and evaluation while she awaited trial for the murder of Sherri Gosnell. The new interim District Attorney was hopeful that a plea bargain could be made so that June could get the psychiatric treatment she so desperately needed. Six months after Josie rescued her from Denton’s holding area, she had finally started saying words again.
Isabelle Coleman’s recovery moved much more quickly. The girl took on her return to normal life with an enthusiasm that, to Josie, sometimes smacked of desperation. She even decided she would attend college that fall as planned. But Josie knew that everyone dealt with trauma differently. Isabelle’s parents assured Josie that the girl would receive regular counseling, even when she went away to college.
Two months after the Gosnell case broke wide open, the woman who had accused Josie of excessive force when Josie was still a detective died of a drug overdose. The Mayor allowed Josie to continue as interim chief. At Special Agent Holcomb’s suggestion, the DA reviewed her statement about Nick Gosnell’s death, together with his autopsy report. After talks with the Mayor, the DA’s office decided not to press charges. Morale in Denton was at an all-time low, and Josie was being hailed as a hero for exposing Gosnell’s horrific crimes and putting a stop to them. The families of the victims being unearthed on the mountain were effusive in the press with their praise of Josie. Because of her, they said, they could finally lay their long-lost relatives to rest. It was decided that prosecuting Josie for the murder of the most hated man in Denton history after she had been held captive by him for two days—during which she had witnessed her husband’s death and nearly been raped—was public relations suicide. For this, Josie was grateful, but she was not sorry for killing Nick Gosnell.
Eight months and thirteen days after his death, little Ramona’s body was unearthed by an FBI team. Alton had buried her only steps from the Gosnells’ back
door, which was why it had taken so long to find her. DNA taken from her remains confirmed that she was Lisette’s daughter. Josie spared no expense to give her the funeral she deserved. It seemed to give Lisette some peace to choose a coffin and headstone, to choose flowers and plan the service. The attendance was larger than Josie thought it would be, and this seemed to please Lisette as well. Finally, after more than sixty years, she could give voice to her howling grief and claim the daughter who had been denied to her both in life and in death. Many of Lisette’s friends from Rockview were there, as well as some members of the staff she had grown close to over the years. The Mayor, medical examiner and the new DA attended, as did Noah and a few other members of Denton PD. Luke stood steadfastly beside Josie as she watched the aunt she would never know being lowered into a grave that had been decades coming.
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He slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. The girl hung as though lifeless down his back, her small hands swaying as the man moved. He carried her outside. Each step sent a lightning bolt of pain through her body. Blinking rapidly, she willed her eyes to adjust to the light. Finally, the ground came into focus: grass, leaves, and twigs. She couldn’t tell where he was taking her. She tried to lift her head to look around but she was too weak.
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Luke had recovered, albeit slowly. He wasn’t ready to go back to work, but he filled his days fishing and texting Josie endlessly. They had lunch together every day, and the nights were spent relearning each other’s broken bodies. He hadn’t been able to make love again until recently. He was scarred, and dealt with a great deal of residual pain, but he was alive. Luke’s shooter was still in jail awaiting his trial. The DA was confident about getting a conviction. Denise Poole had tried getting in touch with Luke several times, but he had put her off, reluctantly admitting to Josie that Denise had always had stalker-like tendencies. He had promised her a painting they bought while they were engaged if she gave Josie the information on the Blackwell file. He genuinely felt badly that she had gotten caught up in the Gosnell mess but he insisted on keeping her at arm’s length—which was just fine with Josie.
* * *
The boy’s feet came into view. He wore white sneakers turned brown by dirt as he trudged behind his father. His eyes stayed on the ground. The girl knew it was useless, but she tried to choke out a “help me” that only came out sounding like a wet cough. The man jostled her and made a hushing sound. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
* * *
As the pastor said his final words, each of them stepped forward to place a single red rose on Ramona’s grave. Lisette went first, abandoning her walker in favor of Luke’s arm. He guided her to the coffin, and everyone seemed to hold their breath as Lisette reverently placed the first rose. Then she placed her fingers to her lips, transferring a kiss to her long-lost daughter. Josie couldn’t stop the tears from pouring out of her. Not just for the aunt she would never know, but for all the loss they had experienced. Josie’s father. Ray. The chief. Josie’s naive belief that her city was a great place to live.
Noah offered his arm. Together, they followed Lisette and Luke, each placing a rose and then walking off, away from the graveside. Lisette leaned against Luke and watched the mourners disperse.
* * *
After what seemed like an eternity, they stopped. To the girl it looked like some kind of clearing. From the corner of her eye she saw a set of steps. Were they near a house? Was he taking her to get help? Was he taking her home? She dared not hope. Gently, the man knelt and laid her on her back. They were behind a house. It wasn’t her house though. It must be theirs. She thought she saw a movement of the curtains in one window. Then it was gone. Her eyes found the boy. He stared at her curiously. Then the man leaned closer to her, and when he smiled, she knew she would never go home again.
* * *
Josie retrieved Lisette’s walker, but she refused it. Luke covered her palm with his and smiled down at her. They had hit it off far better than Josie hoped.
“You know,” Luke told her, “your granddaughter has dining room furniture now, and I make a mean creamy chicken lasagna. Will you come back to the house with us for the evening?”
Lisette had chosen to stay at Rockview, in spite of Josie’s insistence that she find another facility. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” Lisette had said. “Why should I leave my home? Why should I have to live further away from you?” Josie had to admit that she was happy to keep her grandmother close, now more than ever.
They reached Josie’s Escape and Luke helped Lisette into the passenger’s side. She smiled at him. “I’d love to join you,” she said.
* * *
Ramona didn’t look at the man again, or the boy. She would not give them that. Blue sky turning purple with dusk stretched out overhead, filling her heart with a strange kind of peace. She had longed for the beauty of the open sky when she was locked away. Her breath caught as a large, yellow monarch butterfly flitted across her line of sight. She smiled, and thought of her sister, and she didn’t feel afraid anymore.
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A Letter from Lisa Regan
I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read Vanishing Girls. If you enjoyed it, and want to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up here. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.
With such a huge selection of fantastic books out there to choose from, I genuinely appreciate your taking the time to read the first installment of the Josie Quinn series. The town of Denton and the County of Alcott are fictional places but based very loosely on several different locations in rural Pennsylvania that I’ve lived in and explored over the years. I hope you’ll keep reading about Josie and her adventures in Denton!
As you’ll see in my acknowledgments, I am so grateful to all of you readers for taking the time to read my work. I love hearing about your reading experience. You can get in touch with me through any of the social media outlets below, including my website and Goodreads page. Also, if you are up for it, I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave a review and perhaps recommend Vanishing Girls to another reader. Reviews and word-of-mouth recommendations go a long way to helping readers discover one of my books for the first time. As always, thank you so much for your support! It means the world to me! I can’t wait to hear from you and I hope to see you next time!
Thanks,
Lisa Regan
www.lisaregan.com
Acknowledgements
First and foremost, I must thank my passionate readers. Thank you for joining me on this wonderful journey. I deeply appreciate every message, tweet, email, and Facebook post. Thank you for spreading the word. I hope you love Josie Quinn as much as I do and will stick around for more of her adventures.
As always, thank you to my husband Fred and lovely, inspiring daughter Morgan for giving up so much time with me so I could work on this book. Thank you to my parents: William Regan, Donna House, Rusty House, Joyce Regan, and Julie House, who are constantly encouraging this dream of mine. Thank you to the following friends who cheered me on through the first draft of this novel and the many editing rounds, without whom I would surely have given up: Melissia McKittrick, Nancy S. Thompson, Michael J. Infinito Jr., Carrie A. Butler, Dana Mason, and Katie Mettner. Thank you to the following loved ones for constantly going above and beyond to spread the word about my books no matter how much time goes by between titles: Helen Conlen, Marilyn House, Ava McKittrick, Dennis and Jean Regan, Torese Hummel, Laura Aiello, Tracy Dauphin, and Dennis Conlen.
Thank you so very much to Sgt Jason Jay for answering so many of my police work questions in such great detail. I can never thank you enough. Thank you to Amy Z. Quinn for answering my journalism questions so thoroughly.
Finally, thank you to Jessie Botterill for asking me w
hat else I had up my sleeve; for your willingness to take a chance on me; for your passion and commitment to this book and this series; for your amazing editing work; and for your candor and your overall brilliance. I feel so blessed to be working with you. Thank you to the entire team at Bookouture! It is humbling to be a part of such an amazing publishing family.
Published by Bookouture
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An imprint of StoryFire Ltd.
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London EC4Y 0DZ
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www.bookouture.com
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Copyright © Holly Martin 2017
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Holly Martin has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.