Where the Blame Lies(37)

“What happened?” Zach interrupted.

Jimmy told them about the garage sale flyers Josie had hung up, about going into town and finding that someone had tacked an article about Josie’s escape, including a picture, next to every flyer she’d posted.

“Someone’s messing with her,” Zach said, his jaw tight. “My bet’s on the cousin, but he also struck me as a guy who would get others to do any dirty work. How much do you want to bet that we get the tapes from the places the ad was hung, and it’s some little kid or homeless guy tacking it up?”

Jimmy nodded and Sergeant Woods laced his hands behind his head, jaw set as he stared off behind them for a moment. “Get those tapes and we’ll see what’s what. It could be the copycat toying with her. That’s still a possibility.”

Zach’s muscles tensed. “Correct.” But why? What would be the motive?

“A shitstorm could be coming our way. We can’t afford to bungle this. Make sure you keep Josie Stratton safe.”

Zach looked at Jimmy. “Get outta here,” Jimmy said. “I’m going to keep Cathlyn company at the lab. The grocery store where one of the articles was hung is open twenty-four hours. I’ll call and ask the manager to pull the tapes from the last week or so. The library may or may not have cameras, and the other one we saw was hung on a street corner. Whatever I hear, I’ll keep you updated.”

Zach appreciated his partner, who’d woken at the crack of dawn and would now be burning the midnight oil. He knew Jimmy wouldn’t have it any other way, despite the loss of sleep, but damn if Zach wasn’t grateful for Jimmy right then, because he had this urgent need to get back to Josie. He wanted to do what he could for the girl headed to the coroner’s office, but he also wanted to be the one making sure Josie was safe, unharmed. It was probably the crime scene he’d been at, the sick, cold feeling that had settled in his bones since he’d walked down the stairs of that abandoned house and had seen the shackled body. It obviously brought to mind what Josie Stratton had endured—suffered. The more he saw, the angrier he became at what she went through. The damp and cold of the basement. The chafing of the chains. The fear . . . God. What that monster did to her. He was antsy to get to her house. See her with his own eyes, know she was okay.

He didn’t let himself analyze it more than that.

Keep Josie Stratton safe.

It was exactly what he intended to do.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Josie peeked out her window, watching as Officers Horton and Vogel talked in low tones to Detective Copeland, who was holding what looked like a large pizza box in one hand. Her heart gave a small leap at the sight of the tall, handsome detective, while her stomach growled hungrily. She chose to ignore the former and acknowledge the latter. She hadn’t eaten anything for dinner yet. She’d felt awkward in the presence of Horton and Vogel, despite that they seemed to be nice men, so she’d gone upstairs to get some privacy. She’d tried to work a little bit, but her mind had insisted on wandering, and she kept yawning. She’d finally lain down for a little while. She was exhausted after not sleeping well the night before, waking up early, and then dealing with the unsettling and chaotic emotions that had clobbered her after discovering the posted articles and experiencing the dismal garage sale. That people had come to gawk at me, she thought with an internal grimace. Now . . .

Josie watched as Detective Copeland said some parting words to Horton and Vogel and then they got in their police cruiser and backed out of her driveway as he stood in front of her porch watching them leave. Balancing the pizza in one hand, he disappeared up her front steps and she heard her front door open and then close softly below her.

Josie disengaged the locks on her bedroom door, walking down the hall to the bathroom where she took a quick shower, piling her hair on top of her head in a messy bun. When she emerged, she felt more awake, cleansed from the physical work of earlier that day. She returned to her room and pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs, the smell of pepperoni drawing her.

She walked into the kitchen where Detective Copeland stood half turned away from her, looking at the pots and pans on the floor, various levels of water in each. A drop of water pinged into one and he looked up, squinting at the stain on the ceiling.

“Hey,” she said and he turned quickly, his expression morphing into a smile.

“Hey. Little leak, huh?”

“It was little. Now it’s . . . bigger.” When it’d first appeared, she’d only had to put out one pot to catch the drips, but now six were necessary. Pretty soon she’d be able to use her kitchen as a shower. She took a few steps into the room, checking the water levels in each.

“I have a buddy who does roof repairs. He could probably come out in the next few days and take a look. I’d be happy to call him. It’s probably not the greatest time to have strangers in your home.”

Josie looked away. “Oh, well, this isn’t exactly at the top of my list right now anyway.” She cleared her throat, heat rising in her cheeks. She really didn’t want to talk about her pitiful financial situation with this man who probably already thought she was pathetic in practically every way. “Is that pizza I smell?”

When she looked up at him, she saw he was studying her closely, a knowing look in his eyes, but he quickly schooled his expression and looked to where he’d set the pizza box on the table. “I hope you like pepperoni.”