The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(37)

“But he looked at it eventually,” Josie prompted.

“I met him in the diner again in February, right before Valentine’s Day. He told me to take a walk with him, and I did. He said nothing that I gave him was admissible or even really proved anything. That he couldn’t indict Sanders based on a few banking statements anyway.” She blew out a breath of frustration. “I was devastated. But he said we shouldn’t give up. I was supposed to meet him two months later—give him some time to do a little investigating on his own.”

“Then he disappeared,” Josie filled in.

“Yes, then he went missing.”

“But there was no investigation,” Josie said. “I’ve been over the police files. Drew Pratt’s life in the months before he went missing was combed over repeatedly. There’s no mention of Sanders or Wood Creek in any of his personal notes, on his computer at home or at work.”

“Well, I can’t speak for what he did after we talked in February. I can only tell you what he told me at the time.”

“Do you think Sanders or any of the Wood Creek guys had anything to do with his disappearance?” Josie asked.

“I don’t know. If they did, it wasn’t one of them that did the dirty work.”

“You’re right,” Josie agreed.

“Drew Pratt’s been missing twelve years. It took you guys this long to figure out what was on the flash drive?”

“No. We just found it,” Josie said.

“That’s why you’re here?”

“No, I’m here because Beth Pratt was murdered.”

“What’s that got to do with me?” Patti asked.

Josie sighed. “Nothing, it seems. But she was murdered right after we found that flash drive which led us to look more deeply into what happened to her father.”

“Well, it’s a damn shame.”

“Yes,” Josie said. “She was very young.”

“No,” Patti said. “It’s a shame that Drew didn’t live long enough to know what it feels like to lose a child.”





Twenty-Five





Back at the station house, Josie sat at her desk, typing up a report on what she had learned from Patti Snyder. She smelled the comforting scent of coffee even before Gretchen walked up and deposited a cup of it in front of her, the words Komorrah’s Koffee wrapped around the midnight blue paper cup. For just a moment, Josie felt a small ache in her heart. It was usually Noah who kept her caffeinated and shored her up during a big investigation. He hadn’t called or texted all day.

“Mettner’s on his way up,” Gretchen said as she sat at her own desk.

A few moments later, Mettner appeared, looking pale, his brown hair in disarray.

Josie said, “You were at the autopsy?”

He nodded.

“Takes a while to get used to,” Gretchen offered.

He didn’t look at either of them. Instead, he took out his phone and started skimming over his notes, reporting what he had learned from Dr. Feist. “Nothing surprising about the autopsy. Beth Pratt was suffocated to death after a brief struggle. I interviewed a bunch of Colette Fraley’s friends and a bunch of people she knew from church. No one had anything helpful to offer. I then cross-checked all those people to see if I could find any connections between them and Drew Pratt. Nothing. Then I went out to the quarry office and talked to her boss and co-workers. Nothing helpful there either, and none of the people I talked to have any connection to Drew Pratt. Also, I don’t know what the hell to do about that belt buckle. Can’t get prints. I don’t even know where to start looking for men who wore gaudy belt buckles in 1973.”

Josie laughed.

“Maybe we should put it out in the press,” Gretchen suggested. “Or at least social media. Ask for the public’s help.”

“No,” Josie said. “I don’t think we can risk that right now. Someone is obviously looking for this stuff. For some reason, it’s important. I don’t want to tip our hand to the killer.”

“If this stuff is important, then wouldn’t its meaning be more obvious to us?” Mettner joked, finally meeting her eyes.

Josie smiled. “You would think. It’s never that simple. Start with Google. Then eBay. Also, have Hummel take it around to both pawn shops and antique places to see if anyone recognizes it.”

“Good idea,” Mettner said, tapping out a note on his phone. He looked at Gretchen. “You get anywhere with Beth Pratt’s girlfriend’s alibi?”

Gretchen said, “Yes. She cleared. She was at work and I verified that with three of her co-workers.”

“How about Noah’s dad?” Mettner asked. “Did you have a chance to talk to him?”

“I alibied him. He was in New York City. I got confirmation from the hotel he was staying at, and he had tickets to a Broadway show. He sent me photos of the stubs.”

Josie said, “What did he say? About Colette, I mean?”

“He was sad, but he said they hadn’t seen one another in over ten years. There was no reason to—Noah was their youngest and he was eighteen when they divorced. He said he had no idea who would want to hurt her. Even though their marriage didn’t work out, she was a good person, he told me.”