Where the Blame Lies(69)

She put the bite of spaghetti in her mouth and looked thoughtful as she chewed. Once she’d swallowed, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and said, “I’ve been thinking about what Jimmy mentioned, about considering the possibility that it wasn’t Marshall Landish under that mask.”

“I thought you said you believed it wasn’t possible.”

“I did. I do.” But her expression registered conflict. She frowned. “But, Jimmy’s right. It’s worth exploring all avenues, and that’s what I’ve been doing.”

“And it’s hurting,” he said, “going back through your time spent with him.”

Something that looked like relief came into her expression. At being understood? “Yes. Very much. But, it’s good too. It’s been a form of healing I didn’t know I needed. And maybe I wouldn’t have forced myself to go there again in my mind if not for this situation. Whenever I’ve started thinking about it in the past, it’s been my MO to push it away, you know? Self-preservation. And that was okay, before, because I didn’t believe there was a good reason to relive the details. But . . . I can’t do that anymore. Not now. Not if something I remember might help some of the families grieving for their murdered daughters find closure. And not if something I remember might help catch this guy.”

Zach’s admiration for her swelled, making his chest feel full. “You’re incredible. You really are.”

She shook her head, denying his words, but the small, shy smile on her face told him his compliment had pleased her.

“Have you remembered anything that feels important?”

She took a deep breath, her expression going serious. “Nothing momentous, but”—Josie set her fork down, meeting his eyes—“small things. Marshall spoke with a stutter. But sometimes, when he got upset, or agitated, he didn’t.”

Zach frowned. “Could be the nature of his speech impediment. Maybe high emotions caused an increased speed of speech and sort of ‘fixed’ his stutter temporarily?”

She nodded. “Could be. Again, none of the things that I recollected about him yesterday or today are groundbreaking. I’m just trying to bring forth things that either help prove or disprove Jimmy’s theory.” She tapped her plate lightly with her fork. “I want to help, Zach. I want to make sure what happened to me and the other victims, doesn’t happen to any other woman.”

They both ate in silence for a few minutes, the music providing low background noise. “I didn’t peg you for a country music fan,” Josie said, nodding to the radio sitting on the counter.

Zach laughed. “No? What’d you have me pegged as?”

She looked up at him and grinned and for a second, his heart nearly stopped. Fuck fuck fuck. She shrugged. “Definitely rock. Something loud and intense, but also deep and . . . poetic.”

Zach grinned as he got up, taking his empty plate and nodding to hers. She pushed it toward him. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. And I can go for some rock,” he said, placing their plates in the sink as Josie picked up their glasses and brought those to the sink as well. “But I gotta admit, some of this country is damn catchy.” He turned, catching her off guard and taking her in his arms as he spun her around, and she laughed in surprise.

God, that sound was so good. So damn welcome. Especially after her earlier sadness, the tears that had flowed so freely as he’d held her in his arms on the riverbank.

She tipped her head back and laughed again. “On second thought, maybe I was wrong.” Her expression sobered slightly and she raised a brow. “There’s some cowboy in you after all, isn’t there, Detective?”

“I’ve been known to wrangle a bad player or two.” He grimaced and gave his head a shake as though his own cheesy line had offended him.

Josie let out a laugh. “Is that your best cowboy lingo?”

“Apparently.” He laughed and then spun her around again and let her go, grasping her hand and pulling her back. Their bodies bumped gently, their laughter fading as Josie stared up at him. Zach’s breath stalled. She was warm against him, warm and soft. Her womanly curves molded perfectly to his body. The song changed, something slow and crooning filling the air around them, mixing with the blood beginning to whoosh in Zach’s ears. Josie’s eyes moved to his lips and she licked her own. Zach’s heart began pounding in his chest, muscles tensed, waiting.

And then as quick as that, her mouth was on his, and she was pressing herself more fully against him. He let out a deep groan of need, their tongues meeting, tangling, as she angled her head so he could explore her mouth. The taste of her went straight to his groin and he swelled against his zipper. They stumbled backward, Zach’s backside hitting the counter. He brought his hands up, weaving his fingers through the silk of her hair, their mouths mating hungrily. He was so damn hard, his erection pulsing hotly. He attempted to press his hips back, worried he would frighten her, that the evidence of his arousal would make her draw away, but she seemed as desperate as him, her hips following the movement of his own. When she pressed firmly against his erection, he hissed out a breath, their mouths breaking apart as their gazes met. Josie’s eyes were half open, full of lust, her mouth red and wet from his kiss. She was so beautiful, and an arrow of possession quivered through him, a deep throb of need that weakened his knees and took him off balance. He tilted his head back, letting it fall against the upper cabinet, his breath coming quick and harsh. Blood pumped swiftly through his veins, making him want to thrust and take. God, he was turned on. Had he ever felt this hot for a woman? He didn’t think so. But he wanted—needed—to give her a minute to change her mind about this, to slow things down if she needed to, because Lord knew, he could hardly think, and frankly, he was shocked she’d initiated this. As she looked at him, something mixed with the lust in her expression . . . a decisiveness, then a certainty. He might be half drunk on lust himself, but he was good at reading faces—it was what made him a good detective.