The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(23)

This was exactly why Josie had hired Gretchen when she was interim Chief; they were often on the same page. Smiling, Josie tapped back.

Fantastic. Did you get anything from the house? Fingerprints? Fibers? Hairs? DNA?





Not a hell of a lot. No unidentified prints. No DNA on the body.





Of course not, Josie thought. She and Noah had ruined any chance of getting whatever DNA might have been left when they did CPR on Colette. In their efforts to revive her they had contaminated—even destroyed—part of the scene.

Gretchen texted once more.

We did find a footprint in the yard. Male, shoe size 10. That’s about it. What’s Noah’s shoe size?





Josie sighed.

11. That’s something. Thanks, see you tomorrow.





Sixteen





Laura stood in the doorway to Noah’s kitchen, hands on her hips, and stared at Josie with what could only be described as disgust. “What do you mean you’re not coming to dinner with us tonight?”

From where he sat across from Josie at the kitchen table, Noah said, “Laura, please.”

“Don’t ‘please’ me, Noah. This is our last dinner before Grady and I go back to Bethlehem and Theo flies back to Arizona. She should be there.”

Noah laughed. “Why?” he said. “Josie and I aren’t married, as you were so quick to point out at Mom’s funeral. They’re short-handed at the station now with both of us out. It’s fine if she goes to work.”

Josie put her coffee mug down and said, “I don’t have to go back into work. I’m sure Mettner can handle the interviews on his own. He’s more than capable, and Gretchen is working every lead she can from the desk. It’s fine. I just thought—”

Laura cut her off. “My mother said you were too focused on work. That’s why she didn’t like you, you know.”

Grady’s head appeared over Laura’s shoulder, his eyebrows pulled together in a sheepish look. “Sweetheart, really. Calm down.” To Josie and Noah, he said, “Pregnancy hormones.”

Laura backhanded Grady, striking his chest. “Don’t blame this on the pregnancy.”

Josie stood up. “I thought your mother didn’t like me because I shot Noah.”

That silenced all of them. Josie walked over to the kitchen sink and dumped the rest of her coffee down the drain, taking a deep breath.

“What interviews?” Laura asked, changing the subject. “Are you questioning people in relation to our mother’s case?”

Josie said, “We’re not exactly sure yet. The department is still running down leads.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Laura snapped.

Noah said, “Laura, calm down.”

“I won’t calm down. Did you know one of your detectives called our employers? Mine and Theo’s? Not to mention our housekeeper? She wanted our alibis. In my own mother’s murder case.”

Calmly, Grady said, “I think that’s standard operating procedure, sweetheart. Isn’t it, Noah? Rule out the family first?”

“Yes,” Noah said. “We always check out people close to victims. It doesn’t mean anything, Laura.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” Laura snapped.

“Look,” Josie said, before Laura could go on. She turned back to them. “I know your mother didn’t warm to me, and I’m sorry that we didn’t have more time to get to know one another, especially because I genuinely admired and respected her. The last thing I want to do right now is upset all of you more, but I do want to get out there and help find who did this. I want the person who murdered your mother brought to justice. That said, if Noah wants me at dinner, I’ll be there. No questions asked.”

Silence filled the room. Noah’s chair made a scraping sound along the tiles as he stood. He walked over to Josie, gripped her shoulders and pulled her in to him, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “I love you,” he said. “Now go to work.”

Josie’s eyes filled with tears. It was the first time since they’d found Colette’s body that he’d sounded even remotely like the Noah she knew.

Ten minutes later she was back at the station house, squished between Mettner and Gretchen in front of Gretchen’s computer, watching the grainy footage of Drew Pratt and the mystery woman the indoor craft fair cameras had recorded twelve years earlier. They walked into the frame side by side and strolled down the wide aisles at a slow pace. Their bodies were close enough and in sync enough to indicate they were definitely together, but only once did their heads turn toward one another. The footage was so grainy, it wasn’t even clear whether they were speaking or not. The camera had been set high at an angle that almost looked straight down from overhead.

“I can see why the police didn’t bother releasing this at the time,” Gretchen remarked. “It’s totally useless. All you can really tell is that this woman was shorter than Pratt, relatively thin, and had short, dark hair. This footage isn’t even clear enough to guess her age.”

“Yeah,” Josie agreed. “But if it had been my case, I would have at least notified the public that he’d been seen talking to a short, dark-haired white woman before he went missing and asked that she come forward.”