Find Her Alive

by Regan, Lisa

  Josie took out her phone and pulled up the photo of Nicci. The press hadn’t yet caught wind of her murder. Their only focus was on Trinity. There was no way that Josie was giving this snake a tip. She ignored his question. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  He stared at the photo. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t. Who is she?”

  Josie pocketed her phone. She stood up and Gretchen followed suit. “Mr. Keating, thank you for your time,” Josie said. “If we have any more questions, we’ll be in touch.”

  Hayden jumped up, knocking his chair back. He threw both hands up in front of him. “Wait, wait,” he said. “Who is that woman? Is she connected to Trinity’s abduction?”

  Gretchen said, “We thought she might be, but she’s clearly not. Like we said, Trinity was working on a lot of things before she was abducted, trying to develop a story, but not all of them panned out.”

  “Oh, okay,” Hayden said. He scurried around the table and followed them to the door. “Please let me know right away if you learn anything,” he implored them. “I worked side by side with Trinity for three years. Anything you can tell me would put my mind at ease.” He smiled and Josie noted it was the same smile he used on air when he did cooking segments.

  Forty-Two

  In the car, Josie seethed. “That son of a bitch. He ruined my sister’s life.”

  “I’m sorry, boss,” Gretchen said, turning her key in the ignition. “You showed admirable restraint back there.”

  Josie’s hands curled into fists in her lap. Through gritted teeth, she said, “He doesn’t think Trinity’s coming back. That’s why he didn’t care if we knew about him and Mila Kates.”

  Gretchen said, “We’d better get to finding her then. Getting her back alive would be big news. Big enough to make Mila Kates a distant memory.”

  Josie looked over at Gretchen and smiled, her rage receding a bit. “Yes,” she said, loosening her jaw. “We’d better.”

  “Codie Lash got a letter from the Bone Artist,” Gretchen offered.

  “Absolutely,” Josie agreed. “I don’t think she told Hayden about it—or anyone.”

  “Why didn’t she turn it in?”

  “Maybe she got it after Hayden Keating received his, or maybe she didn’t open it until after he received his. If you look in the Bone Artist file, the anchors at the other networks received their letters on different days but within the same week,” Josie pointed out.

  Gretchen pulled out of the Eudora parking lot and headed toward Josie’s house. “The most likely scenario is that Keating got his and turned it in immediately. The meetings started with the FBI. They were going round and round about what to do—engage this guy and try to draw him out or ignore it.”

  Josie picked up her Komorrah’s cup from the console and sipped what little was left, glad that it was still lukewarm. She was alarmed to find that she felt far more tired after that short interview than she should. Stopping herself from punching Hayden Keating in his smug face had taken a lot out of her. “Codie knew from the meetings that the network would never let them try to engage the Bone Artist,” she said. “She didn’t bother turning in her letter. To her, it wouldn’t have mattered if she turned it in or not, since she and Keating both got exactly the same letter.”

  “Except that the letter was evidence,” Gretchen said. “It should have been turned in so the FBI could analyze it at the very least.”

  “I agree,” Josie said. “It was irresponsible for Codie not to turn it in. Then again, she was an anchor, not a police officer. Either that, or she thought she could be a hero and it wouldn’t matter that she hadn’t turned the letter in.”

  “I’m inclined to believe she was trying to be a hero,” Gretchen said. “She probably hoped she could help solve the case somehow or draw this guy out just like Trinity. Regardless, we can’t prove that she got a letter. Do you think it was in the personal effects that Trinity asked her assistant to dig up?”

  “No,” Josie said. “I think if something like that had been laying around after Codie’s death, we would know about it. She probably destroyed it. But that doesn’t matter.”

  Gretchen turned her head away from the road long enough to give Josie a raised brow. “It doesn’t?”

  “No, it doesn’t. We only need to know if she tried to engage him or not. For that, all we need is network footage from the time that Keating received his letter through the time that Codie Lash was murdered. We can see if she said or did something that might have signaled the Bone Artist. Something Trinity might have seen.”

  When they arrived at Josie’s house, Gretchen followed Josie inside, saying hello to Lisette and giving Trout a fuss. Shannon and Christian hadn’t yet returned from the library. Another headache began behind Josie’s eyes. She wanted to sleep so badly, but the thought of somehow getting closer to finding Trinity drove her. In the kitchen, she booted up her laptop and she and Gretchen searched YouTube for network footage of Codie Lash from a two-week period in 2014. Lisette shuffled in to make them coffee and then went back to watching television with Trout.

  Shannon and Christian arrived with a Gregg shorthand dictionary and Patrick in tow. They ordered pizza and joined Lisette in the living room where Shannon paced on one side and Christian paced on the other. Patrick disappeared upstairs. After two hours of watching segments, Josie’s eyes were dry, irritated, and painful. Her head pounded mercilessly, and her limbs felt heavy with fatigue. On the laptop screen, Codie Lash droned on. A piece about law enforcement using new DUI technology played and then the camera panned back to her and Hayden Keating. They made some commentary, smiles plastered on their faces.

  “I think this is it,” Gretchen said.

  “What?” Josie asked.

  Gretchen used the mouse pad to rewind the footage. The segment ended, the screen cut to the anchors and Hayden Keating said, “Technology is incredible, isn’t it, Codie?”

  Codie smiled widely at the camera. “It is certainly incredible, Hayden. In the hands of law enforcement, look what can be done! Police don’t play games, do they?”

  He gave her a strange look that lasted only seconds before picking up after her statement. “They get right to the job,” he agreed. “Now—”

  Codie cut him off. “They do their jobs and don’t let criminals get the upper hand. They don’t like to play games with suspects under any circumstances. It’s just not possible.”

  Keating’s expression was something between confusion and outright horror. “Right,” he said stiffly. “As I was saying, now let’s move on to a heart-warming story out of Iowa…”

  They replayed it six or seven times. Josie said, “I think you’re right. This was the first signal. She’s telling him that law enforcement has his note and that the ‘police don’t play games’; in other words, they’re not going to play his game.”

  Gretchen nodded. “She’s definitely not just talking about this DUI segment.”

  “Right,” Josie agreed. “Her words don’t exactly fit the situation, do they? That’s why Keating gives her that side-eye. Plus she went on a bit, didn’t she?”

  Gretchen bookmarked the video. She made a note of the date in her notebook. “If she signaled him here, it was about a week after Hayden got his note, but a week before she was killed—”

  “And before Robert Ingram’s remains were found,” Josie interjected.

  “He might have contacted her again.”

  “And she might have given him some type of signal again,” Josie agreed.

  “But what? We only knew this one because we knew what the Bone Artist’s note said. If he communicated with her again and if she continued to engage him, how would we know?”

  “We wouldn’t,” Josie said. “But it might be worth watching the rest of the videos from that week-long period. Something might jump out at us.”

  They trawled through more footage. Josie fought to stay awake as they watched different segments. As co-anchor, Codie Lash was on television for several hours a day. After the thir
d cooking segment in three days of footage, Josie started thinking about the bottle of ibuprofen in her nightstand. She rubbed her eyes and shifted in her seat, trying to stay awake. The video continued into the day’s final segment which was about cheap vacation spots.

  Gretchen said, “Boss, I can do this myself if you want to get some rest.”

  The vacation segment ended, and the next video was Hayden and Codie kicking off the show by reading the day’s top stories. Stifling a yawn, Josie said, “No. I can do this. I need to see whatever Trinity saw—whatever it was that helped her make the Codie Lash connection. We’ve watched three days’ worth of footage since she gave the Bone Artist his first signal. If there’s anything else to be found, it has to be—” She lurched forward, fingers scrambling over the mouse pad to pause the footage.

  “Oh my God,” Josie said. “That’s it. That’s definitely it.”

  Filling the screen was Codie’s face, her expression one of somber seriousness. In her short brown hair, on her right side, was a large, French-style bone-colored comb.

  Josie’s heart pounded double-time as she pointed to it. “There,” she said.

  They both stared for a long moment. Finally, Gretchen said, “Wow.”

  She took a screen shot and then tried to zoom in to get a better look at the comb. The photo blurred the more she zoomed in, but Josie could see that it was extremely similar to the one Trinity had received in Josie and Noah’s mailbox. Gretchen wrote down the date in her notebook. “This is two days before Robert Ingram’s remains were found and three days before Codie and her husband were killed. She played his game, and he killed Robert Ingram anyway. She must have been devastated.”

  “Look at the timeline though,” Josie said. “Robert Ingram was probably dead before the Bone Artist sent the letters to the press. He never had any intention of letting anyone go, just like Drake said.”

  “But then the Bone Artist just stopped,” Gretchen said. “He got a member of the press to play his game. Although she didn’t mention his case specifically on television, she engaged with him. He got what he wanted. Why stop?”

  “He didn’t get what he wanted, though,” Josie said. “Not really. He wanted attention, notoriety and the only way to get that was if the press did a story on him. Codie played his game but not in the way that he wanted. The only people who even knew they were playing a game were the two of them. Without press coverage, he wouldn’t get to flaunt how smart he thought he was.”

  “Maybe it would have continued if she hadn’t been killed,” Gretchen mused.

  “Maybe. Or maybe he was so angry with her for not making their game public, he retaliated against her.”

  Gretchen raised a brow. “That’s a stretch, boss. Both she and her husband were killed in a mugging.”

  “A mugging that’s never been solved,” Josie pointed out. “It’s worth looking into. Maybe Drake could get us whatever there is in the murder file. I mean, is it really that much of a stretch? A reporter makes contact with this guy and a few days later, she’s dead? That doesn’t bode well for Trinity, though, does it?”

  Gretchen bumped her shoulder gently against Josie’s. “We’ll find her, boss. We won’t stop until we do.”

  Josie stared at the screen where Codie Lash was frozen in profile, the comb tucked neatly into her hair. “Wait here,” she told Gretchen.

  She went to the bottom of the stairs and called for Patrick—which ended up drawing everyone else in the house. He jogged down the steps, pushing his brown hair out of his face. “What’s up?”

  Josie said, “Can you come into the kitchen and look at something for me?”

  He followed her, as did Lisette, Christian, and Shannon. Even Trout trotted in, curious as to what all the humans were studying on the kitchen table. Gretchen played the Codie Lash segment, pausing it at the best angle for them to see the comb. Josie said, “Patrick, is this why the comb looked familiar to you? You’d seen it on television before?”

  All eyes turned to him. He stared at the frozen screen for a long moment.

  Christian said, “Patrick—” but before he could go on, Shannon grabbed his arm, silencing him.

  Suddenly, Patrick’s entire face went taut and pale with horror. “Oh my God,” he gasped.

  “What is it?” Josie asked.

  He pointed to the screen. “No, no. That’s not where I saw it.”

  “Then where?” Josie asked.

  He took his phone out of his pocket, tapped and scrolled a few times.

  “Son,” Christian said but Shannon silenced him again.

  When Patrick found what he was looking for, he turned the screen toward them. “It’s Trinity’s Facebook page,” he explained. “She did this video for the network when she first got here six weeks ago. She was staying here at the time. The crew was still in town.”

  They crowded around the tiny screen. Trinity stood in front of the Denton PD headquarters, holding a microphone in hand. Her expression was all business. “It all started in this small town five years ago with the disappearance of seventeen-year-old Isabelle Coleman…”

  Josie stopped listening, instead staring open-mouthed as she saw the reason Patrick had suddenly become so overwrought. In Trinity’s hair was a comb just like the one Codie Lash had worn on-air six years earlier and just like the one Hummel had found tucked away in Trinity’s suitcase after she was taken.

  “When did you say this was recorded?” Gretchen asked.

  “Six weeks ago,” Patrick said. “A few days after she got into town. The network wanted her to do a story about the five-year anniversary of the missing girls’ case and how it impacted the town. You guys didn’t watch it?”

  Josie stared at him. Quietly, she said, “Patrick, I lived through it. It was one of the most horrific experiences of my life. I know it’s Trinity’s job to revisit these things, but I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I didn’t watch it.”

  Gretchen said, “This was when she first got here to Denton. Before she moved out to the cabin. Josie, this was before she received the comb we found in her suitcase.”

  “So where did she get that one?” Shannon asked, pointing to Patrick’s phone.

  “From Codie Lash’s things,” Josie said. She walked back to the table and picked up her own phone, firing off a text to Jaime Pestrak.

  Do you remember if there was a white French-style hair comb in Codie Lash’s things when you sent them to Trinity?

  A few minutes later, Jaime replied,

  I think so. There was some pretty ugly stuff in that box.

  Josie looked around, “Trinity’s assistant believes there was a hair comb like that in Codie Lash’s box of things.”

  Gretchen said, “Come on, boss. Let’s go see the team.”

  Forty-Three

  Two hours later, Josie sat at her own desk at the station house, thumbing through the Gregg shorthand dictionary that the Paynes had secured for her, trying to find the symbol she’d seen on the Bone Artist’s truck. Page after page was lined with words in one column and squiggly lines in the column across from them. Swirls, dips, circles, lines… Josie didn’t know how anyone could possibly make sense of this. All the shorthand words looked the same to her. She’d have to have Lisette give her a crash course when she got home. In the meantime, she used a pencil to make a light mark next to any symbols that seemed familiar.

  “Any luck?” Noah asked as he came into the room.

  “I think it might have started with an F. My grandmother said what I was drawing looked like it began with an F. I’ll keep looking.”

  A moment later, Drake, Gretchen, and Mettner trailed in. Under Drake’s arm was a laptop. “There is video of the attack on Codie Lash and her husband. It was captured from an ATM vestibule across the street from where it happened.”

  “I know,” Josie said. “It was in Trinity’s search history.”

  “Right but I made some calls and got a hold of the entire video—even the parts that weren’t released to the press.”

/>   “But we’re following Trinity’s trail,” Josie said. “I’m looking at things that she saw and trying to figure out how she got from knowing nothing about the case to making contact with this guy.”

  Drake smiled. “What makes you think she didn’t see the entire video?”

  Josie smiled back. “Who in the NYPD did she convince to let her see it?”

  “I can’t say,” Drake replied. “I wouldn’t want to get the poor guy in trouble. Anyway, she never got a copy of it. She just watched it under his supervision. Your sister can be… persuasive.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of dogged,” Josie said.

  “I was going to say persistent,” Gretchen chimed in.

  “A pain in the ass,” Noah said.

  Josie and Drake both nodded. Josie said, “All of those are true. She must have had something over this NYPD guy to get access to this.”

  “She did,” Drake admitted. “An affair that he doesn’t want made public.”

  “How did you find out?” Gretchen asked.

  Drake looked around at them. “She might have her ways, but I also have mine.”

  As Noah, Gretchen, and Mettner gathered around, Drake put the laptop in front of Josie and opened it, pulling up a black and white video of the attack. It was taken at an angle from slightly overhead across a small street. Streetlights illuminated the sidewalk. Codie Lash came walking down the street, arm in arm with her husband. Her skirt swished around her. She wore high-heeled boots. Her husband wore a trench coat over what looked like suit pants. They were in front of some sort of closed-down business with a security gate covering its entrance when a man came from the other direction. At first, neither Codie nor her husband looked at him. They were speaking to one another, her head tilted up and to the right toward his and him smiling down at her. The man who approached them was dressed in jeans, boots, and a dark-colored hoodie over a baseball cap. The cap was pulled low over his face and the hood kept his profile from being visible. He lifted a hand and then he must have said something because they stopped.