The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(50)

“What did he tell you?” Noah asked. “What did he say about her?”

“That she was a devoted wife and mother,” Josie said. “He admitted to the cheating. He told me a story about you and a friend horsing around and you breaking your nose. He said he took you to the hospital.”

Noah scoffed. “Yeah, only cause my mom was out.”

“You were thirteen?” Josie coaxed.

“Yeah. Mom was so upset. Way, way more upset than any of us thought she’d be over a broken nose. I mean, one time Laura and I were fighting and we knocked over her curio cabinet, broke everything in it and fractured Laura’s wrist. She was twelve. Needed three surgeries and a bunch of physical therapy. Cost my parents a fortune. Mom wasn’t even that upset when that happened, but when I broke my nose… I don’t know, maybe because it was on my face? I remember we were supposed to get our pictures taken for the baseball team—they made these frames for the pictures that made them look like fake baseball cards. Anyway, I looked like someone beat me up.”

“It was spring?” Josie said.

“Yeah. Theo’s birthday is April 28th. It was right before that. I remember because he came home to visit us and my mom was still pissed about the whole thing so she was in a really terrible mood the whole weekend, and Theo joked that I ruined his trip by getting mom so worked up.” At this, he laughed. Then his brow kinked and he said, “Why would he tell that story? He wanted you to think he was this great, caring dad?”

“Wasn’t he?” Josie asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, for the most part?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, until he walked out. But that’s just it. How much could he have possibly cared? He started a whole new family,” Noah said. “He spent thirty-four years with my mother, and then he walked away from her and started all over again. Discarded us like we were nothing.”

Josie said, “I’m so sorry, Noah. He said he made efforts to reach out to you, Laura and Theo.”

He snorted. “Efforts. He called me once. One time. Said if I ever wanted to get together, to just give him a call. That was his effort. He’s a liar and a piece of shit. He didn’t care about us or my mother. He hasn’t been in our lives in almost fifteen years. You didn’t need to talk to him. If you wanted to know about him, you could have asked.”

“Noah, we go where the investigation takes us. You know this. Do you think I enjoyed it when my personal life—every horrible thing that ever happened to me in childhood— was picked apart last year? It was devastating. But I dealt with it—in part because you were there for me. I’m trying to be there for you.”

“No, you’re trying to solve a case.”

Josie threw her arms in the air. “Yes, that too! I’m not trying to hide that. When I close my eyes at night, I still see your mother’s face, just like you, and I see your face. I see the pain this has caused you, and I want to stop the person who did this and make them pay.”

“You didn’t need to go there today. Gretchen could have gone on her own. You could have asked me what happened with my dad, but instead you went there without even consulting me first. Did you get what you wanted?”

“What I wanted? I don’t know what you’re—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house. They both froze, meeting one another’s eyes for a split second before rushing out the bedroom door and down the hall. The smell of something burning filled the air. Noah was in front of her, heading toward the stairs. Josie clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “Noah, he’s here.”

Billows of thick gray smoke snaked up the stairwell and licked the ceiling of the hallway.

“Get down,” Josie said, tugging Noah down to the floor.

On their hands and knees, they crawled to the top of the steps, but the smoke was too thick for them to make their way down. Josie’s eyes watered; the fumes seared and scratched the back of her throat. Sweat slicked her skin, making her clothes feel heavy against her. She grabbed at Noah’s calf to stop him from going any further. He looked over his shoulder at her, but his face was barely visible through the thickening smoke. Josie knew that with fires, inhalation was the main cause of death. She pointed toward one of the doors in the hall. “The bathroom!” she shouted.

They crawled down the hall toward the bathroom, Josie closing the door behind them and leaning against it, her breath coming hard, chest burning. Boxes lined one wall of the narrow, cramped space. Noah tore one open and pulled out towels which he wet under the tap. He handed her one and she swiped at her face, the cold feeling like heaven against her flaming skin.

“I think the downstairs might be fully engulfed by now,” Josie said. She took out her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed 911, asking the dispatcher to send the fire department and an ambulance immediately. A cough erupted from her chest as she pocketed her phone. Noah pried the bathroom window open and punched out the screen, extending his head outside.

Josie stood. “How far down is it?”

He brought his upper body back inside and motioned for her to look. From the window, Josie could see dark smoke pouring from the downstairs windows of the house. Directly below was a sheer drop into one of Colette’s perfectly pruned flower beds. They were high enough to break something should they have to jump, but not enough to kill themselves. Josie turned back to see smoke filtering under the bathroom door and grabbed one of the wet towels, pressing it tight against the gap.