Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn Book 6)(79)

They delivered her to the back of an open ambulance, but the moment the two agents jogged back off to the woods, Josie told the paramedics she was fine and walked back to her car, trying to keep her gait steady, while a searing fire burned her center.

She dialed Noah on her cell phone, put him on speaker and tossed the phone onto the passenger’s seat. “Hey,” he answered. “You okay? I heard all hell broke loose over there.”

Driving hurt. Everything hurt. Josie gritted her teeth and tried to make her voice sound normal. “I’m fine. Yeah, it was crazy.” She caught him up on everything except the part where she got shot. “I didn’t see Oaks when I came back out.”

“He’s over by the mill, last I heard. They found evidence that the kidnapper and his accomplice might have been squatting over there. No evidence of Lucy, though. I mean they didn’t find her in there.”

“He’s got her stashed away somewhere. Is Gretchen at the hospital?”

“Yeah,” Noah answered. “She’s waiting on Amy Ross. The husband is there, too. Mrs. Ross is in surgery.”

“Oh no,” Josie said. “Do they think she’ll make it?”

“They’re not sure yet. The bullet is lodged in her pelvis. She lost a lot of blood. I have good news, though.”

It was hard to imagine any news that might be considered good in the nightmare that had gripped the city. “What’s that?” she asked.

“We found Violet Young. Actually, the team Lamay put together found her. Luke Creighton’s dog sniffed her out in the woods. She was stabbed—”

“In the chest?” Josie interrupted, wincing with the effort the words took. She was almost home.

“Yeah. Missed her heart but caused a lot of trauma. The doctors said she’ll survive. She was left pretty deep in the woods. She tried to walk out but she was too weak from loss of blood so she took shelter under some bushes in case the killer came back and waited. That’s all they got out of her before she was transported to the hospital.”

Josie felt a wave of relief so profound, she felt like she could breathe again.

“Josie?” Noah said.

“That’s great,” she managed. “Have someone get her statement, would you? Gretchen, maybe, as she’s already at the hospital.”

“Will do,” Noah said.

“And can you call over to Dr. Feist’s office? Ask her to test the female suspect’s hands for gunshot residue, would you?”

She heard the sound of a page flipping over and knew he was writing her instructions down in his notebook. “You okay?” he asked again. “You sound strange.”

“I’m fine,” Josie said, even as pain webbed across her abdomen and into her lower back. “I just need to get changed. I got mud all over me up on that mountain.”

“All right,” Noah said. “Better check in when you’re done. Oaks is out in the field looking for this guy, and Chitwood and the FBI’s press liaison are trying to hammer something out to tell the reporters camped outside. We could use a cool head.”

Josie pulled into her driveway, relieved to see Misty’s vehicle there. “You’re the cool head,” Josie told him. “Tell them we don’t have enough information right now to make a statement. I’ll get there when I can.”





Fifty-Five





Once inside, Josie slumped against her door. From the living room, she heard the television playing. Seconds later, Misty appeared in the doorway, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, her blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun. “Josie? Oh my God, are you okay?”

Josie grimaced, holding her stomach. “Can you help me upstairs?”

Misty’s blue eyes widened as she came closer. “My God, you’re covered in blood. Should I call 911? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

Josie could hear panic raising the octaves of Misty’s voice with each question. She waved her free hand in the air. “I’m fine. It’s okay. It’s not my blood.”

“Oh,” Misty snapped. “Well that makes me feel better. I’m calling 911.”

“No, really. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine. I… fell. I just need help getting up to the bathroom and getting cleaned up. Please.”

“Should I call Noah?” Misty asked, putting a tentative arm around Josie’s waist.

“No, please,” Josie said. “You can help me. Where’s Harris?”

Misty guided her up the stairs slowly. “He’s asleep in the spare room.”

“Okay, good,” Josie said.

Once inside the bathroom, Josie sat on the edge of her bathtub. She tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I got shot,” she told Misty.

“Oh my God! Josie, you said this wasn’t your blood! You need to get to the—”

“I had a vest on. The bullet didn’t go through.”

Misty put a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God. What happened?”

“Help me get this shirt off, and I’ll tell you.”

As Misty helped her lift the shirt over her head, Josie gave her the abbreviated version of the day’s events. As she talked, Misty helped her take off her blood-splattered jeans. “I’m just going to throw these away,” Misty said. “Unless you want me to wash them.”