The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(2)

Noah moved across the room in two easy strides and took her by the shoulders. “You’re overthinking this. Just be yourself. She’ll come around.”

No, she won’t, Josie thought, but she didn’t want to have the argument with Noah again. They’d been dating for a year, and in that time Josie had figured out that the most important person in Noah’s life was his mother. He was the youngest of three but his brother lived in Arizona—all the way across the country—and his sister and her husband lived two hours away. Noah’s parents had divorced when he was a teenager, and from what Josie could gather, none of the Fraley children kept in touch with their father.

Josie looked at the clock on her microwave. “I guess it has to be store-bought. We need to be there in a half hour.”

“We’ll tell her that you were busy with work,” Noah offered. “And didn’t have time to bake something.”

Josie barked a laugh and pulled her mitts off. “Somehow, I don’t think that will help.” All talking about work with Colette did was remind her that a few years earlier, Josie had shot her darling son during a particularly tense and complex missing girls case. Both Josie and Noah were high-ranking members of Denton’s police department and in the last few years they’d covered cases so shocking and high-profile, they’d made national news.

Noah started closing the windows. “Just get changed,” he told her. “It will be fine.”

Twenty minutes later, Josie sat in the passenger’s seat of Noah’s car, a box of store-bought brownies in her lap, feeling anything but fine as they weaved through the streets of Denton. The city was roughly twenty-five square miles, many of those miles spanning the untamed mountains of central Pennsylvania, with their one-lane winding roads, dense woods and rural residences spread out far and wide. The population was edging over thirty thousand, and it increased when the college was in session, providing plenty of conflict and crime to keep the Denton Police Department where they both worked pretty busy. Josie’s gut clenched slightly as they pulled into Colette’s driveway. Next time, she promised herself, she was going to make that damn raspberry coffee cake if she had to burn her damn house down.

“That’s weird,” Noah said as he put the car into park.

Josie’s eyes followed his gaze to Colette’s front door, which yawned open. She didn’t have a storm door, just a thick wooden entry door which had been painted a cheery blue and decorated with a handmade spring wreath with sprigs of faux yellow flowers.

Josie left the brownies on the passenger seat and followed Noah up the front walk. Together they ascended the three steps to the concrete landing where potted flowers bracketed the door. “Mom?” Noah called.

Josie put a hand on his arm. “Wait,” she said, her hand reaching for her shoulder holster only to find it wasn’t there because today was her day off. “Should we call this in?”

He smiled uncertainly at her. “Call what in?”

Josie motioned toward the open door. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered.

Noah laughed. “What makes you assume something’s wrong? Mom left the door open. She’s been forgetting stuff lately, remember?”

Josie did remember. Noah and his sister had had several hushed conversations recently about having her tested for Alzheimer’s or dementia even though she was only in her sixties. Still, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread gathering in the pit of her stomach as she followed him through the door into Colette’s living room, which was also decorated in blues. It was late afternoon and the waning sunlight cut across the room, making the hardwood floors gleam. The end table’s small drawer was hanging open, items from inside scattered on the floor: a pair of Colette’s reading glasses, a pack of tissues, a pen and notepad. Josie took a step toward it. There were still some things inside the drawer. Had Colette been looking for something?

“Mom?” Noah called again, moving deeper into the house.

The dining room was dark and undisturbed. Josie wondered if Colette had forgotten they were coming over. Normally, the table would be set by the time they arrived for dinner. In fact, on any other occasion, the entire house would be filled with the smell of Colette’s superb cooking.

“Noah,” she said. “I really think—”

But he was already in the kitchen, calling for his mother again. Josie moved quickly behind him. The overhead light glared down on the kitchen which was neat and clean, everything in its place except for two more drawers that hung open with their contents spread along the counter above them—dish towels, a wine opener, takeout menus, a flashlight, some candles and a lighter.

Josie clamped a hand onto Noah’s shoulder, turning him toward the back door which was also open. Beneath her palm, she could feel him move with more urgency. As they passed through the back door, Noah called out again, “Mom?”

Their feet sank into the lush grass as they stopped to scan the large backyard. A tall white fence lined with blooming flower beds marked the perimeter, and a small wooden shed sat in one corner. Josie took a step in the direction of the patio in the center of the yard that was crowded with heavy metal furniture, her eyes tracing every inch of the garden. With a gasp, she pointed to something sticking out from one of the beds in the far corner. “Oh my God. Noah, is that—”

The words died in her throat as she sprinted across the yard, Noah behind her.