Her Final Confession

Chapter Nineteen

PRESENT DAY

Denton, Pennsylvania

Josie made her way to Market Street and started walking in the direction of police headquarters. She made a quick call to Noah, but he had nothing new to report. At Thirtieth Street she hailed a cab that took her to Eighth and Race Street and dropped her in front of police headquarters. When she’d spoken to Steve Boyd on the phone, he had called it the Roundhouse, and now she saw why. The building was shaped like the double barrels of a shotgun. As Josie approached the entrance, a tall, thin man with a crisp gray suit and salt-and-pepper hair pushed himself away from the wall next to the front doors and walked toward her. “You’re Josie Quinn,” he said, extending a hand.

Josie took it. “Lieutenant Boyd?”

He smiled, brown eyes twinkling beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows. “That’s me.”

Josie looked beyond him to the entrance, but he shook his head. “You don’t want to go in there,” he told her. “You’ll be twenty minutes getting through security, even as my guest. You hungry?”

Her stomach had growled loudly the entire cab ride. “Starving,” she said.

“Let’s go.”

He pulled out a key fob and led her to an unmarked SUV in the parking lot across from the entrance to the Roundhouse. They drove in silence, Josie taking in the crowded streets as he weaved in and out of traffic. She lost track of where they were in relation to the Roundhouse and her hotel.

“You been to Philadelphia before?” Boyd asked.

“Only for a couple of concerts,” Josie answered.

Finally, he parked in front of a place so small, it hardly looked like it could support a food establishment, but once inside, the smells of cheesesteaks and french fries made her stomach clench. Boyd pointed to a set of orange booths lining one wall. “Have a seat. You like onions, right?”

“Uh, sure,” Josie said.

She sat in one of the empty booths and waited for Boyd to return. Ten minutes later he slid in across from her with a tray heaped with food and two sodas. Josie seized the cheesesteak nearest to her and devoured it. The two of them ate in silence for several minutes while Boyd shot her knowing, appreciative smiles. Finally, he wiped his chin with a napkin and said, “I can see why Gretchen likes you.”

A fry froze halfway to Josie’s mouth. “What? You’ve talked to her?”

“Not recently. When she took the job in Denton you were the one who interviewed her. She liked you. A lot. And Gretchen doesn’t like many people. Well, if she does, she doesn’t show it.”

“She doesn’t show much,” Josie agreed. She abandoned the fry and took a sip of her soda. “When’s the last time you did talk to her?”

“Christmas. She called to wish me a happy holiday. We chatted for a bit. Talked shop, that sort of thing. I only hear from her about once or twice a year.”

That had been nine months ago. Josie said, “Does the name James Omar mean anything to you?”

“Nope.”

Josie took out her phone and showed him the photo of the young boy they’d found pinned to Omar’s body, but he didn’t recognize the child. Next, she showed him the picture she’d snapped of Omar and Ethan Robinson from the fridge in their apartment.

“Sorry, don’t recognize either of them.”

With a sigh, Josie put her phone away. “Lieutenant—”

“Steve.”

“Steve, I think Gretchen’s in trouble.”

He nodded. “From what you told me yesterday, I’d say you’re right.”

“How long were you partners?”

“Oh, about eight or nine years.”

That was a significant amount of time to be partners in their line of work. Josie knew that the people you worked with in law enforcement could become closer to you than your own family. The things you saw and experienced on the job could bond you like nothing else. “Do you think she did this?” Josie asked him.

Boyd’s eyes dropped to the table. His fingers folded a napkin into tiny squares. “I don’t know,” he said. “My gut says no, but Gretchen was a tough nut to crack. All that time we worked together, and I still don’t feel like I ever got to know her. Not in a real way.”

Josie thought of her own affection for Gretchen in spite of the fact that she knew virtually nothing about the woman. Then she thought about the spiked wood pieces lining Gretchen’s first-floor windows. What the hell had she been hiding? Or running from?

“So you don’t know where she would go if she was on the run? Who she would go to for help?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Do you think she’s capable of something like this?”

“I really don’t know.”

It was then that Josie thought of the more important question. “Do you think she’d throw her career away like this? Shoot a boy in the back and then go on the run?”

Boyd met her eyes. “Gretchen didn’t strike me as a runner, and her job was everything to her. That I know. That I can say with one hundred percent certainty. I don’t know what she did in her spare time. I know she wasn’t married, didn’t have any kids, but I don’t know if she had hobbies or friends or even a pet. Hell, I don’t even know if she’s straight or not. I just know with one hundred percent certainty that she loves the job, and she’s good at it.”

That Josie couldn’t argue with. She stuffed a few more fries into her mouth. This was looking more and more like a dead end. Gretchen was a locked door, and it seemed that no one had a key. As an image of Gretchen flashed across Josie’s mind, her spine suddenly shot up straight. “Her jacket!” she said. “Do you know the story behind her jacket?”

Boyd laughed. “That nasty old leather jacket she never takes off? Yeah, I know the story.”