by Regan, Lisa
Hanna ignored her. Her eyes pleaded with Alex. “He wasn’t like us, do you understand?”
“No,” Alex mumbled.
Zandra kicked Frances in the ribs. “He’s not our father, dummy. That’s what she’s trying to tell you. He wouldn’t marry her because she had two bastards.”
Alex looked to Hanna for confirmation. She nodded. He tried to remember a time when Frances had not been in their lives, but he couldn’t. Frances had always been their father.
“I’m sorry,” Hanna whispered.
“Save it for the police,” Zandra said, now sounding bored. “I’m going to get something to eat.”
Forty
As Noah promised, the next day Josie was discharged. He and Gretchen drove her back to Denton with Shannon and Christian following. Josie wanted to go back to the stationhouse, but no one would let her. She needed rest, they said. Rest, rest, rest. No amount of rest was going to bring Trinity back. Noah left her at home and went back to the station to join the rest of her team. Sitting on her living room couch with Lisette on one side and Trout on the other, Josie tried for hours to recreate the shorthand symbol she had seen on the side of the Bone Artist’s truck. Each time she attempted it, Lisette studied it and frowned, uttering an, “I’m not sure, dear.” When Josie’s head hurt too badly to keep her eyes open any longer, she gave Shannon and Christian her library card and asked them to go to Denton’s local library to see if they could find a book on Gregg shorthand.
Josie swallowed some ibuprofen dry and sprawled out on her bed with her eyes closed. Sleep wouldn’t come, only thoughts of Trinity and the case. In her head, she went over the Bone Artist file again and again. What had Trinity seen that Josie couldn’t? What was she missing?
Symmetry. Male. Female. Symbols. Games.
Her eyes snapped open. She was overlooking a major piece of what Trinity had been studying. Creeping downstairs, she saw Trout cuddled up beside Lisette on the couch. Shannon and Christian were still out. She managed to get to the kitchen to retrieve the bag that Gretchen had gotten out of Josie’s mangled car before they left Callowhill. Josie carried it upstairs and into her bedroom. She fished out the Bone Artist file and spread the pages out on the bed, searching for the notes that the Bone Artist had sent to members of the press in 2014 before his last victim was found and he went off the radar.
She lined the notes up next to one another. All of them had been delivered within the same week, addressed to different anchors. There were three major broadcast networks in the United States with popular morning shows. The Bone Artist had delivered a note addressed to a male and female anchor at each of the three networks. Except the network that Trinity worked for. Only a male anchor had received a letter at Trinity’s network, not a female anchor. Josie found the photo of the envelope that note had come in and read the name: Hayden Keating.
Trinity’s co-anchor.
The Eudora was the nicest hotel in town, so it was likely he was staying there. A brief text exchange with Trinity’s assistant confirmed this. Josie started to get dressed, trading sweatpants for jeans, and a T-shirt for a Denton PD polo shirt. She strapped on her holster and found a light jacket in the closet. She ignored the dizziness that nearly knocked her to the ground when she bent to put her shoes on. She pocketed her cell phone and spent ten minutes looking for her keys before she remembered that she had no vehicle. Her Ford Escape had been totaled in yesterday’s accident. She would have to wait for a check from her insurance company and then go shopping for a new car.
She sank back onto her bed with a groan. Then she called Gretchen, quietly explaining what she wanted to do. “Boss,” Gretchen said, lowering her voice. “You know it’s my ass if I take you out on the town. You scared the hell out of everyone here. Noah will kill me if he finds out.”
“I’m not asking to go out on the town,” Josie said. “I’m asking you to take me with you on one interview. You’re secondary on this case. You’ll have to do the questioning anyway. I’m just asking to ride along.”
Laughter filtered through the line. “Sure, and if I don’t let you ride along?”
Josie sighed. “Gretchen, don’t make me walk to the Eudora Hotel. It’s a few miles from my house.”
Gretchen matched Josie’s sigh. “Fine. Meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”
“Around the block from my house,” Josie said. “If my parents get back before you get here, I’m busted.”
True to her word, Gretchen pulled up a block over from Josie’s house fifteen minutes later. Josie got in and thanked her. Gretchen drove off, pointing to a large Komorrah’s coffee cup in the console. “Drink that. It might help your headache.”
“How do you know I have a headache?” Josie asked as she picked up the cup.
“Because you have a concussion, that’s how,” Gretchen said. “Now drink. As soon as we’re done, I’m taking you home.”
“Thank you,” Josie said. She sipped from the cup, the taste and smell of the coffee making her feel somewhat restored.
“You sure about this?” Gretchen asked.
“Codie Lash was Hayden Keating’s co-anchor when the Bone Artist sent notes to all the networks. He sent a note to the male and female hosts of each national network morning show—except at Trinity’s network, where only Hayden Keating received one. That makes an uneven number of notes. I don’t think he really likes uneven numbers.”
“You mean because he only kills in even numbered years?”
“Right.”
“And he sent five letters to the press instead of six?”
“Yes. It’s off-balance, off-pattern.”
“Is it? He took Nicci Webb, Trinity, and then tried to take you. That’s three people. It’s uneven. That’s off-pattern. How can we know what his pattern is at all now?”
“But Trinity provoked him,” Josie said. “She’s the break in the pattern.”
“Nicci Webb’s remains were found seventeen days after she went missing, not thirty. That’s off-pattern as well,” Gretchen argued.
Josie sighed and rubbed her temples. “He’s off-pattern now, yes, but I’m talking about six years ago when he was at the height of his known activity. He had a strict formula then. Even numbers were important to him so why would he send the male and female hosts of the other two networks letters but only send a letter to the male host of the final network?”
“Codie Lash got a letter.”
“That’s what I think,” Josie agreed. “Why else would Trinity be looking into her?”
“You think Hayden Keating knew that Codie Lash got a letter and didn’t tell the police?”
“I don’t know,” Josie said. “It seems unlikely but then again, she was killed in a mugging gone wrong a couple of weeks after the press received their letters. Maybe he didn’t think it was relevant. Or maybe he didn’t know. We’ll find out.”
“We have to be careful with him,” Gretchen said. “Mettner still doesn’t want the press to know that the Bone Artist is involved. If we give this guy any indication that there’s a connection between Trinity and the Bone Artist, he’s going to run with it.”
“Got it,” Josie said.
Forty-One
At the Eudora, Josie let Gretchen do all the talking. The concierge rang Hayden Keating’s room, talked with him for a brief moment, and then had one of his colleagues guide them to Keating’s room on the tenth floor. Hayden Keating was in his late fifties, barrel-chested with thick, wavy gray hair and the straightest, whitest teeth Josie had ever seen. She’d seen him on television dressed in bespoke suits hundreds of times. Now he stood before them in a pair of faded jeans and a salmon-colored button-down shirt that was partially open, revealing springy gray chest hair. He gave them his most serious look, the one he used when he read news from the teleprompter about natural disasters and other tragedies. “Ladies,” he said. “Welcome. Please, come in and have a seat.”
His room was equipped with a small table and chairs. The three of them gathered at the table
. Josie thought she heard water running. The door to his bathroom was closed. Was there someone else staying with him? Or was her concussed brain playing tricks on her?
Hayden asked, “Has there been any news about Trinity?”
Josie turned her attention to him and folded her hands in front of her on the table. “I’m sorry, but no. Nothing yet.”
He looked disappointed. Josie wondered if it was because he was genuinely worried about Trinity or because any news would make him look good when he reported it on television. Probably the television thing.
Josie heard the distinct sound of the water in the bathroom being shut off. Then came sounds of rustling from behind the closed door. Definitely not her imagination. She exchanged a quick glance of acknowledgment with Gretchen. If Hayden noticed, he didn’t let on.
Gretchen took out her notebook and pen, slid her reading glasses on, and looked at him. “Mr. Keating, we’re looking into all the things that Trinity was working on before she was abducted.”
He laughed. “Working on? Trinity wasn’t working on anything. Listen, I don’t know how to say this, and I probably shouldn’t because it’s confidential.” He looked pointedly at Josie. “I don’t want to upset you, but—”
“The network is replacing Trinity with Mila Kates,” Josie filled in.
He looked surprised.
Josie smiled. “It’s our job to find things out, Mr. Keating. Trinity wasn’t working on anything for the network. We think maybe she was trying to develop a story—something that would have a lot of appeal to viewers—that she could pitch to the network in a bid to save her job. Either that or she would use it as leverage to get a position at another network.”
He smiled. “That sounds like her.” He looked over his shoulder toward the closed bathroom door. “Well, if you already know, then you won’t mind…”
“Mind what?” Josie asked.
“Darling,” he called. “Join us, would you?”
The bathroom door swung open and there stood a woman in a thick, white terrycloth robe, toweling her short blonde hair dry. She sauntered toward them in her bare feet, her blue eyes locked on Josie. “Wow,” she said. “You do look quite like her, don’t you?”
Josie had to remind herself to close her mouth.
Hayden said, “This is—”
“I know who this is,” Josie snapped.
The woman extended a hand to Gretchen. “Mila Kates,” she said. “You are?”
“Detective Palmer. We’re here to talk to Mr. Keating.”
Mila leaned a hip into Hayden’s shoulder and slung an arm across the back of his neck. “Do you have any leads?”
Josie felt her face flush. She gripped the handles of her chair, ready to push herself up, primed to explode. Gretchen placed a gentle hand on her wrist, a reminder to keep her anger in check. A tight smile spread across Gretchen’s face. “Miss Kates, I’m sorry but we’re not at liberty to discuss the details of an active investigation. Did you know Trinity?”
“Oh, not well. We would run into each other from time to time at different functions.”
Josie said, “Hayden didn’t introduce the two of you?”
The two looked at one another, smiling. When they looked back at Josie and Gretchen, they had matching expressions of discomfort. “We haven’t gone public with our relationship yet,” Hayden said.
Gretchen said, “That must be tough.”
They both nodded.
Keeping the note of accusation out of her voice and instead choosing a tone of deep concern, Josie said, “It must have been really difficult for both of you after Ms. Kates’ stalker confronted her on live television.”
Hayden looked up at Mila, eyes shining with unshed tears. “It was very hard,” he admitted. “I wanted to go to her, but the press coverage was so intense—obviously—so I had to keep my distance.”
Mila touched his cheek, gazing down at him so lovingly that Josie felt her stomach lurch. “And all I wanted was to see you and I couldn’t. Not until things died down.”
Mila Kates’ stalker had made her national news long before Trinity’s job was in jeopardy. Picking up on Josie’s line of questioning, Gretchen asked with the perfect note of innocence, “Was it Hayden’s idea to bring you over to his network? So you wouldn’t have to be separated?”
The motion was barely perceptible, but Josie noticed it: Hayden nudged Mila away from him just slightly. He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you get dressed while I finish up here?”
She raised a brow. “I thought I’d hear what the detectives have to say about Trinity’s case.”
Hayden smiled. “Darling, you just heard them say they can’t discuss it.”
She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.
He added, “Trinity was my co-anchor for years. I’m well-equipped to answer any questions about her.”
Wordlessly, Mila turned on her heel and stalked off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Hayden let out a sigh and gave one of his on-camera megawatt smiles. “You have to understand,” he said quietly. “I’ve been with the network for decades. Far longer than Trinity. She’s talented. She can get an anchor job anywhere. I wouldn’t have requested that the network bring Mila in if I didn’t think Trinity would land on her feet.”
Josie’s heart thundered in her chest. It took everything in her not to fly across the table and wrap her hands around his pompous throat. She felt the pressure of Gretchen’s fingers on her arm. Calm. She had to stay calm. Strangling the back-stabbing bastard in front of her was not going to get Trinity back. They needed information from him. She took a deep breath and a moment later, Gretchen released her arm.
Ignoring Hayden’s admission, Gretchen said, “As we told you, Trinity was working on something before she was abducted. We believe that one of the stories she was looking into was the Codie Lash murder.”
His features went slack. “Codie Lash. Wow. Well, any story on Codie would be gold. She was successful, beloved, and tragically murdered. They never solved the case, did you know that?”
“We’re aware,” Gretchen said. “Were you and Codie close? Trinity’s notes indicated she was particularly interested in the few weeks before Codie’s death. Do you have any idea why?”
“Codie was in line for a humanitarian award, I remember that. She was actually on her way to a charity gala with her husband when they were both killed. I didn’t see her much before she died even though we were on air together. There was a—” he broke off. “I’m not sure I can say.”
Josie, having regained as much of her composure as she could gather, leaned forward and touched Hayden’s hand in exactly the same manner she’d seen Trinity do countless times on air. “Whatever it is, it will stay between us. We’re just trying to do everything and anything we can to find Trinity.”
He looked at her fingers which lingered on the top of his hand. With his other palm, he patted them. Josie worked hard not to recoil. “Of course,” he said. “It has nothing to do with Trinity anyway. It was a long time ago. There was this serial killer back then. I won’t say which one because I was never supposed to talk about it. He sent a letter to me at the network. He wanted me to play some kind of sick game with him on air. I turned it over to the FBI immediately, of course.”
Gretchen said, “Wow, that must have been frightening.”
“It was unsettling, yes. Anyway, there was a flurry of meetings and such with the network brass and the FBI.”
“Codie didn’t get a letter?” Josie asked.
“No. She would have turned it over right away.”
Gretchen said, “Did you have people who went through your mail before it got to you?”
“No,” Keating said. “We opened everything ourselves. Letters and packages were rare anyway—still are. Now everything is email or social media messages.”
“Did Codie know about your letter?”
“Of course. She was my co-host. We were together all the time. She was in on all the meetings.”
/>
“Meetings?” Gretchen coaxed.
“Well there was talk of me engaging with this… killer, as per his letter. There were a handful of agents in the Bureau who thought they could safely draw him out. Ultimately, the network attorneys and my own personal attorney felt it would be too risky for me. Without a consensus, the whole thing fell flat.”
Josie asked, “What did Codie think of the whole thing? She would have been on the air with you if you’d gone forward with trying to draw him out.”
“She didn’t think there was any harm in it. In fact, she believed I should do it because it might save lives.”
“You didn’t think you could save lives?” Gretchen asked.
“It wasn’t up to me. It was up to the attorneys, the network. Besides, it was all a joke. The killer did kill again shortly after that. Then Codie died and, well, life goes on, doesn’t it?”
Josie had to bite her lower lip to keep something snide from coming out. This man had used his clout with the network to get rid of Trinity, pouncing on one of her mistakes to ensure her exit so that he could bring his much younger girlfriend into a position she hadn’t even earned. His actions had caused a domino effect that ultimately led to Trinity desperately looking for a story that would put her back on top. A story about the Bone Artist. Now she was gone, and Josie didn’t know if they’d get her back.
Life would go on for him and for Mila Kates but what about Trinity? What about Josie, Shannon, Christian, and Patrick? What about Nicci Webb? Her daughter and granddaughter? Had the Bone Artist taken her because Trinity had drawn him out? The faces of Monica Webb and little Annabelle flashed through Josie’s mind. She had a job to do, she reminded herself. That didn’t change, no matter how angry she was with Hayden Keating. Swallowing her rage, Josie asked, “Does the name Nicci Webb mean anything to you?”
He shook his head, the lines at the corners of his eyes tightening in look of puzzlement. “No, it doesn’t. Who is she?”