Where the Blame Lies(22)

She was just feeling unsettled because of Detective Copeland’s visit, what he’d imparted to her about the recent crime. The dead girl. The memories his visit had evoked.

Outside the front window, headlights moved slowly by on the road in front of her home. Not the officer—he was only going to drive by every hour or so, and she’d watched him from her upstairs window fifteen minutes before.

She turned, walking into the kitchen where she stopped dead in her tracks, a scream rising to her throat at the sight on her kitchen table.

A dead rat. A knife stuck in its stomach, pinning it to the wood, its blood pooling on the surface and running over the edge where it dripped into a puddle on the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

**********

Zach jumped from his truck and ran toward the well-lit house, pounding his fist at the door. Craig Horton pulled it open, stepping aside to let him enter.

“Horton,” Zach said.

“Cope.”

“Where is she?” he asked as Horton pushed the door closed behind him.

“In the living room to the right.”

Zach patted Horton on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”

“We were just down the road when she called. We’d driven by fifteen minutes before. Nothing seemed out of place. Quiet night.”

Zach nodded, turning into the room Horton pointed toward. Josie was curled up on the sofa, a blanket over her knees, golden brown hair curling around her fresh-scrubbed face. She looked younger. Vulnerable. He felt a punch to his gut. She started to stand but he motioned her down. Walking to where she sat, he took a seat on the same sofa and angled his body toward hers.

“You all right?” he asked, his eyes doing a sweep of her face. She appeared slightly shell-shocked, though her hands, lying in her lap, were steady.

She nodded. “I am now. That . . . that thing scared the hell out of me. Someone was in my house, Detective.”

Zach’s skin prickled the way it had when Horton had called him a half hour before. He hadn’t even bothered to shower, even though he’d just finished a workout, had pulled on a pair of track pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, and jumped in his truck. He looked back at the officer he also considered a friend. Not a close one, but they’d worked together before and the guy was solid. “Vogel still doing a sweep?”

Horton nodded. “Yeah. We did a sweep of the rooms on the lower floor when we arrived. I stayed with Ms. Stratton while Vogel checked out the upstairs. He’s in the basement now.” As if to confirm his statement, Zach heard a thud from below.

“You all right, Vogel?” Horton called into the hallway where Vogel must have left the door to the basement open.

“Yeah,” they heard muffled from below, followed by footsteps on the stairs. A second later Dwayne Vogel appeared. “All clear.” He looked at Josie. “Sorry, ma’am. I knocked over a pile of boxes near the stairs.”

Josie shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. It’s a mess down there. I’m working on getting it cleaned up.”

“Any idea how the suspect entered?” Zach asked.

“The front door was unlocked when we arrived,” Horton said. “Ms. Stratton says she’s almost positive she locked it but can’t be a hundred percent.”

Josie grimaced slightly. “I’m usually very diligent about locking up.” She ran a hand over her forehead, the top of her hair. “But I was distracted today.” Her eyes met his. “By your visit, the shock of hearing about that girl. You’d think I’d have been extra careful about locking up, and I thought I was.” Her brow wrinkled. “But after Officer Horton came here to introduce himself, I just can’t specifically remember locking the door.” She blew out a breath. “It’s possible I didn’t.” Despite her words, there was something in her expression that made Zach think she was unconvinced. He imagined that for a woman who’d experienced what she had, locking doors was second nature. Still, she was human. Everyone got distracted.

“It’s understandable. I’m sure this whole day has thrown you for a loop.” He looked at Horton. “You said the evidence is in the kitchen?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you check that out on your own. Once was enough for me.” Horton gave him a wry smile, but then shot an apologetic glance at Josie. But she obviously hadn’t minded him making light of the situation for a moment and breathed out a small smile, even if it faded quickly.

“A criminalist is on his way to process the evidence. We’ll see if there are any fingerprints on that knife.” He looked at Horton and Vogel. “Will you stay with Ms. Stratton for a minute while I take a look?”

“Sure thing,” Horton said. “Kitchen is across the hall.”

Zach stood, walking through the foyer and across the hall where the rat lay on the table just as Horton had described it on the phone. It was a big sucker, its beady eyes open, tail pink and slinky. Nasty. Dirty fuckers. He hated rats. He was reminded of the rats that had fed on the DOA’s body from the basement crime scene and a chill went down his spine.

The knife that stuck from the rat’s stomach looked to be a standard carving knife. His eyes moved to the knife storage block on Josie’s counter but all the implements there seemed to be accounted for, no empty slots. Whoever had done this had either killed it right beforehand and transferred it inside, or had killed it right there on Josie Stratton’s table with a knife he or she had brought along for the job. Wouldn’t Josie have heard it though if that were the case? Zach couldn’t imagine a rat would die quietly. Again, nasty. He ran his hand over his short hair. It’d been damp when he’d left, but it was dry now.