My Lovely Wife(81)

Josh drinks a third of his beer in one gulp. “Are you one of those true-crime freaks?”

“Not at all. Just someone who wants this asshole caught.”

“Cool.”

I motion to the bartender for another shot. “Hey, man,” I say to Josh. “Let me buy one.”

“No offense, but I’m not gay.”

“None taken. Neither am I.”

Josh accepts the shot. The bartender brings a couple more beers with it.

Together, we watch the sports channel, talking back and forth about this team or that one. I buy a couple more shots but pour mine into a peanut bowl when he is not looking. Josh drinks his and orders two more.

When a soccer game starts, he nods to it. “I bet on the Blazers. You?”

“Same.” Lie.

“You play? You look like you play.”

I shrug. “Not really.”

He gulps down the rest of his beer and motions for two more. “I used to play for this soccer team called the Marauders. We sucked, but people were still afraid of us. That was kind of awesome.”

“Sounds like it.”

During a commercial break, an ad for the local news shows today’s press conference. Claire Wellington is once again on the screen.

Josh shakes his head and looks over at me. His eyes are not as clear as they were when I walked in. “You want some inside information?” he says.

“Sure.”

He points to the TV. “She’s a bitch.”

“Really?”

“It’s not because she’s a woman. Really, that’s got nothing to do with it. But the problem with having a woman in charge is that they have to change everything. Prove themselves, you know? And it’s not their fault they have to do that—I get it. I just wish they didn’t screw everything up.”

“Is that right?”

“That’s a million percent right.”

The young, earnest reporter I have been watching is not the person he is on TV. I don’t know why I expected him to be.

I order a couple more shots. Josh drinks his and slams the glass on the bar.

“A couple days ago, I reported something a source told me. The next day, he calls and says I can’t talk about it anymore. Technically, the police can get fired for talking to the press. She’s just decided to enforce the rule.” He throws up his hands, as if this is an abomination. “Even if they talk to me. And I worked with the police when I got those letters from Owen. Or whoever sent them. I didn’t have to do that. I could have just read them on the air without telling the police at all.”

“What does that mean?” I say. “Your sources won’t tell you anything?”

“Oh, they still tell me stuff. I’m just not allowed to report it on the air. Well, I guess I could, but I’m a nice guy. I don’t want anyone to get fired, especially not someone I need. That bitch won’t be here forever.”

Before I can answer, his phone buzzes. He glances at it and rolls his eyes. “See, this is what I’m talking about. I get a tip from a source, the second time I’ve heard this information, but I can’t do anything with it. Y-E-O, it says. ‘Your Eyes Only.’ ” He lets out a big, noisy sigh. “Worst acronym ever.”

“That sucks.”

“No shit.”

I wait. I stare at the TV, not saying a word, hoping to convey that none of this matters to me. Because the less I care, the better chance he will tell me.

It takes him one more shot.

“Okay, I have to tell someone,” he slurs. “But if you tell anyone, I’ll deny I showed you this. At least until they make it public.”

“You think they will?”

“They don’t have a choice.”

Josh slides the phone over to me. The text is on the screen, sent by someone named J. The whole thing reminds me a little of being Tobias.

Until I read the text.

YEO:

There are bodies buried under the church.





Fifty-nine




I thought the text was going to be about the supposed message on the wall. Instead, it is about buried bodies. “So what?” I say.

“So what?” Josh says.

“That church is over a hundred years old. There’s probably a whole graveyard of people buried there.”

“I’m sure there is. But that’s not what he’s talking about.” Josh leans in and lowers his voice a little. The smell of all that alcohol hits me in the face. “Have you been out there?”

I almost say yes, but then remember I am not a true-crime freak. “No.”

“They have this big tent set up, but it’s behind a bunch of trees. That’s where they’re taking the bodies.”

“You keep saying that. What bodies?”

“The bodies in the basement aren’t from a hundred years ago,” he says. “They’re women who have been killed recently.”

“No.”

“Yes. And I can’t go on the air with it.”

Josh rambles on, complaining all over again about Claire and his sources. I am not listening anymore.

Naomi and Lindsay have already been found, which leaves Holly and Robin. Holly was killed out in the middle of nowhere, in the woods, and we buried her out there.