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His tone got slightly colder. It had none of the indignation she would have expected had he known nothing at all about who was behind Luke’s shooting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Josie.”

  He never called her Josie.

  “How many of you are involved, Ray?” she asked. “How far does this go?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Who is Ramona?”

  There was a beat of silence followed by a long sigh. “There is no Ramona.”

  “I know that’s not her real name. Who is she?”

  “I wish you would stop with this,” he said. “I’m getting concerned about you. You’re starting to sound crazy, Jo. You’re not handling this suspension very well. Making up people with fake names, harassing the department when we’re in the middle of an investigation. Even that stunt you pulled with Misty the other night. What did you say to her?”

  “What?”

  “She won’t talk to me now. Won’t take my calls. I don’t know what happened, what I did. The only thing I can think of is that you said something to her, and after she had time to think about it, she decided she was finished with me. What did you say to her?”

  “Don’t change the subject, Ray. Do you think I give a shit about your stripper girlfriend right now? Didn’t you hear me? Luke is fighting for his life. What have you gotten us into, Ray?”

  “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered.

  He had an official party line, and he was sticking to it. She changed the subject. “Where’s the Standing Man, Ray?”

  His sharp intake of breath told her she’d hit on something important. When he spoke again, there was naked fear in his voice. “Josie,” he said. “This is very important. You need to walk away from this. Leave it alone. All of it. I’m begging you.”

  She’d hit the right nerve. It was time to keep pushing.

  “Why did you lie to me about the acrylic nail? I know it was Isabelle Coleman’s. She’s wearing the nails in the video her friend took of the two of them on the day she went missing.”

  “Listen to me, please. You need to stop this right now. Do you understand? I can’t protect you.”

  “Protect me from what?”

  His voice was barely audible. “Them.”

  “Who, Ray? How far does this go?”

  “Far. Very, very far. You have no idea. I am begging you, Jo. As my wife. Please walk away.”

  His words were like barbs in her heart. Her voice cracked again. “How much do you know?”

  “Enough.”

  “You know I can’t walk away, Ray. I’m not built that way.”

  He whispered, “They’ll kill you, Josie.

  “Then I have to stop them. Where’s Isabelle, Ray?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ray.”

  “I’m serious. I don’t know.”

  “Did you know? When she went missing?”

  “Not at first. I suspected that… that they were involved. No one said anything outright. Everyone kept looking for her. Then the searchers found her phone in the woods—I think it was purposely missed by our guys. I think… I think maybe someone was supposed to get rid of it, but they didn’t do it in time. The chief started calling it an abduction. I think he knew where she was. I think a lot of them did.”

  “Where, Ray?”

  “I can’t tell you that, Jo. You’re in too much danger as it is. I don’t even know for sure.”

  “But you think they are behind her abduction.”

  He didn’t speak, but she could hear him breathing.

  “Ray.”

  “I don’t know. I—I think they could be.”

  “Do they have her now?”

  “No.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” Ray said. “And I don’t think any of them do either.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  For a few seconds, Josie felt like she was suffocating. Searching around, she sat on the nearest bench, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing. Something had been niggling at the back of her mind after Ray’s reaction to her mention of the Standing Man. He knew where it was, obviously, though she had no memory of it from her shared time with Ray. But she knew she had seen it before, which meant she had to go back before Ray. She skipped over the horrors of her time with her mother, going back further to her time with her father. Her tiny hand in his as he led her away from a white house and into the woods to look for cardinal flowers. They were wildflowers that grew on long, weedy stalks, with red petals that looked like fingers and a stigma like a tiny periscope shooting out of the center. Josie loved them, almost as much as she had loved hunting for them with her father in the woods. There was only one place they’d ever found them.

  She opened her eyes, took in a deep breath, and dialed Lisette again. Voicemail. Again, she dialed the front desk at Rockview. Again, a nurse told her Lisette was taking a nap.

  “I’ve been calling for a couple of days now,” Josie said. “She hasn’t called me back. I’m getting concerned.”

  There was a beat of heavy silence. Then, “Well, hon, like I told you before, she has been pretty down since the business with Sherri, and without her here, Alton has been on a rampage, harassing the ladies like nobody’s business. Nobody wants to come out of their rooms. Sherri was the only one who could keep him in check. It’s like a funeral home around here. We’re all traumatized, to tell you the truth. I mean, the way she was killed…”

  Come to think of it, it was just like Lisette to take Sherri’s untimely death to heart. Josie remembered the way Lisette had reacted to the newscast on Isabelle Coleman’s abduction. “She’s probably thinking of poor Sherri’s mother,” Josie mumbled.

  “Oh well, Sherri’s mom passed on a few years ago,” said the receptionist.

  “Did she?”

  “Yep. Cancer got her. She was quite old though. Had some dementia too.”

  “Really?” Josie said.

  “Yep. Do you want me to wake your grandmother up, hon?”

  Something was emerging in Josie’s mind, like a fogbank clearing. “No, no thanks. I needed to ask her something, but I just remembered what it was I needed to know. I’ll stop by to visit her as soon as I can.”

  She hung up and used her phone to log in to the Alcott County Office of Property Assessment website. It took a few minutes to search the database, but she found what she was looking for. She was closing the browser when her phone rang. It was Ray. She sent it to voicemail. He called back immediately. Again, she sent his call to voicemail. She stood on shaky legs and sat back down immediately. She didn’t know if the dizziness was from shock and anxiety or dehydration and sleep deprivation. Maybe all of those things.

  Her phone chirped with a text from Ray. Don’t shut me out. Please.

  She turned her phone to silent, dropped it in her jacket pocket, and closed her eyes again. Even in the darkness behind her eyelids, the entire world seemed to spin. It was all too much. Luke near death, Ray a liar and now… a criminal? Because that’s what he was now. She had no idea just how much he knew, but he knew enough to implicate himself in something big. Something horrific. If he was sitting on even the slightest suspicion of where Isabelle Coleman was being held, he was every bit as guilty as whoever was keeping her. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

  She wondered if he expected her to lie for him, because she was his wife or because she was a cop? Or both? How could he? Ray had always been good and decent, honest and loyal. It was those qualities that made him a good cop. What happened to him? How had she missed it? Maybe she hadn’t been paying attention at all during their marriage.

  He had said that he suspected early on that “they” were involved in Coleman’s disappearance, which meant he had reason to believe that his colleagues were involved in something bad before Coleman even went missing. How long had he known? Had he known about June Spencer all along? They had worked together side by side for five ye
ars. What had Josie missed? Or had he been privy to things she wasn’t because he was a man? The good old boys’ club. She searched her memory banks for a moment in their marriage when he started to act differently, but she couldn’t think of anything. Their jobs could be stressful; sometimes you would catch a call or a case that left you on edge for weeks.

  Nausea clenched her stomach again, but there was simply nothing left for her to expel. How had things spiraled this far? Three weeks earlier she had been a respected police detective in Denton, a town she loved, with a beautiful new house, and an exciting new relationship. Now she was suspended, broke, and quite possibly in mortal danger. Her soon-to-be ex-husband—her high school sweetheart—was a criminal, and her fiancé was barely alive, his insides shredded, and an innocent teenage girl was still missing. How did things get so bad, so fast?

  Her eyes snapped open.

  “June,” she said aloud.

  She pulled her phone back out and scrolled through her contacts until she found Noah Fraley’s cell phone number. As she listened to the phone ring, she wondered if he too was involved. Sweet, shy, bumbling Noah? But yesterday she couldn’t imagine Ray being involved either. She could trust no one.

  “Fraley,” Noah said after the sixth ring.

  “Noah, it’s me.”

  His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Hey, Josie. I’m really sorry about Luke. How… how is he?”

  Her heart skipped and sped up again. She hadn’t expected this. He sounded genuine, but she couldn’t trust Noah any more than she could trust a stranger.

  “He’s in a medically induced coma,” she said stiffly. “It doesn’t look good.”

  “I’m really sorry. How’re you holding up?”

  Damn him. “Not good,” she said, tears gathering behind her eyes. If he was involved, she couldn’t let him know she was calling about June. She took a chance that Ray wasn’t at the station. “Um, Noah. Have you seen Ray?”

  “Nah. He’s out with everyone else looking for Isabelle Coleman.”

  Josie looked toward the entrance. Lara was gone. “You’re still logging tips?”

  “No, I’m down in holding. Someone has to babysit June Spencer.”

  Relief flooded through her. She strode toward the entrance and made her way to the elevators. “They haven’t moved her yet?”

  “Nope. They’re saying maybe tomorrow or the next day. That psych unit in Philly might have a bed by then. Want me to tell Ray to call you?”

  “Oh no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep trying him. He does this from time to time. Doesn’t want to hear me nag him.”

  “Well, he’s an idiot,” Noah said. “Want me to tell him that?”

  She had to force a laugh. “Sure. You can tell him that.”

  They hung up just as she emerged from the elevators onto the ICU floor. She found Carrieann in the waiting room, her face ashen and tear-streaked. Josie felt a strange weightlessness, like she was made of nothing. Like her pounding heart would propel her right off the ground.

  She walked up to Carrieann and gripped her by the shoulders. “What happened? Is he… is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to utter the word, to even think it.

  Carrieann seemed to stare right through her. “They found the shooter,” she said.

  “But is Luke okay?”

  Carrieann nodded. “He’s the same.”

  Her relief felt palpable, like a breath she’d been holding for five minutes rather than five seconds. “They found the shooter?”

  “They arrested her an hour ago. The press doesn’t know yet.”

  Puzzled, Josie said, “Her?”

  Now Carrieann met her eyes. “Denise Poole. Did Luke ever mention her? She’s his ex-girlfriend. She was always a little off, a little obsessed with him, but I never thought she’d try something like this.”

  The whole world seemed to narrow to a pinprick. Carrieann was still speaking, but all Josie could hear was a roar in her ears, like a bathtub faucet on full blast. A cold sweat broke out along her forehead and upper lip. She pushed past Carrieann and fell into one of the seats lining the walls. She tried to steady herself by focusing on the painting across the spinning room. It was a copy of a Renoir, she thought, with relief, so purposely out of focus. She wondered if this was how Ginger’s memories looked in her mind, faces blurred and indistinct. She wondered about the painting Denise had mentioned.

  Whoever was behind all this clearly had no idea that Josie had met with Denise Poole the day before, or Josie would be dead. She would be dead as soon as Denise gave her name as an alibi.

  As the roar in her ears receded, Josie looked up at Carrieann, willing herself to focus. She couldn’t give in to her emotions right now. She had to find a way out of this.

  “I just can’t believe it,” Carrieann went on. “Denise. I just never thought she could do something like this.”

  Josie said blankly, “Because she didn’t.”

  Confusion creased Carrieann’s face. “What? What are you saying?”

  Josie beckoned Carrieann closer and whispered, “I need your help. Now.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Three sharp knocks and a boy’s voice called, “You in there?”

  Another loud thump on the door and the hand on her throat relaxed. She sucked in as much air as she could. As painful as breathing was, it was a sudden and sweet relief. Another thump and hope filled her battered chest. She tried to call out, but her words were weak and barely audible, even to her own ears.

  The voice came again, clearer now. “Dad, you in there?”

  This monster had a son? She wondered how old he was and if he would help her. Surely, if he found her, he would help her, take her home.

  The man picked up his flashlight and swung open the door just long enough for her to see a boy’s slender frame in the ultra bright sunlight before she was slammed into darkness again and heard the lock click into place. Her hope disintegrated. New tears stung her eyes. The boy was so close. Rescue. Home. She dreamed of being back in the arms of her mother and sister. If only the man hadn’t beaten her so badly, she could have cried out. She lay like a broken doll discarded on the dirt floor, listening for the boy’s voice again.

  “I just want to know what you’ve got in there.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Denton’s holding area was a little-used group of cells in the basement of the police department with an emergency exit leading to the back parking lot. It was mostly reserved for drunk college students and drunks who needed to sleep it off. For prisoners who were being charged, Denton PD relied on the county’s central booking office which was only a few miles away. It was much more secure, manned twenty-four hours, and the sheriff supplied transportation of prisoners to and from court. It saved Denton a lot of time and expense to send people awaiting arraignment to central booking rather than keep them in holding.

  That June Spencer was still in their holding was extraordinary. Noah’s claim that they couldn’t find a bed for her in any nearby psychiatric units was bullshit; there had to be one somewhere. What made matters worse was there was no one to fight for June’s rights; her uncle was clinging to life, her mother was in hiding. She couldn’t even speak for herself.

  Obviously, they were trying to delay her transfer. Another day or two and she’d likely have some sort of accident—maybe in transit—or perhaps she would find something to kill herself with. At least that’s what they would claim. Then there would be no chance of June recovering enough to testify against any of them.

  Josie had to get June out of there and to safety. She parked a block away from the police department in a pick-up truck she’d borrowed from Carrieann. She’d also lent her a Marlin ranch rifle. It was probably twenty years old and its wooden stock was nicked and scratched, but Carrieann had assured her that it would shoot someone just the same. Now it was hidden beneath Josie’s jacket as she lurked in the shadows near the dumpsters in the back parking lot. Quickly and surreptitiously, she checked the display on
her cell phone. “Any minute now,” she whispered under her breath. It had gotten cold, almost to the point where she could see her breath. She silently hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm as she waited.

  Finally, she heard the doors around the side of the building bang open, shouts and footsteps and, soon, cars roaring to life. She listened as one by one they tore out of the parking lot. As planned, Carrieann had called in the false Isabelle Coleman sighting on the other side of the city. Everyone on shift would be sent out looking for her, leaving one person upstairs in the main lobby to greet any visitors and one person in holding to watch June Spencer. She didn’t know if it would be Noah, but it didn’t matter. She was leaving with June Spencer no matter what she had to do.

  Josie knew one patrol officer who worked nights and always parked in the back lot, and she waited for him to exit through holding. As he strode toward his car, she slipped inside the door just before it slammed shut. She knew she’d be captured on CCTV, but that didn’t concern her. She was already a dead woman walking. All she needed to do was get June, get out, and get her to safety.

  She paused in the small hallway that led from the door into the holding area. Her heart pounded out a steady rhythm. She opened her jacket and raised the rifle, holding it in both hands, the stock flush against her right shoulder. She paused for a moment to steady her breath and her trembling hands. She was about to break the law. She was about to seal her fate, throw away everything she held dear in life. But there was no other way; it was kill or be killed.

  Still, committing a crime in her own station house was not something she ever thought she would do. She took one last shuddering breath and made her way down the hall. On one side was a row of cells: two small, two large. On the other side was a row of unused desks and an empty bench. Directly across from where she stood sat Noah Fraley, his feet up on a large desk, so all she could see was the mud-crusted tread of his boots. He’d been nodding off but didn’t startle when he saw her, which was what she’d expected. She moved toward him, catlike, raising the rifle and sighting in on his center mass. Slowly, he unlaced his fingers from behind his head and brought his hands down, palms out toward her, a gesture of surrender. An uncertain smile played on his lips, like he couldn’t quite be sure if what he was seeing was real or not.