Her Final Confession

Chapter Forty-Four

Josie stood in the center of bustling Penn Station, disoriented by the sheer number of people swarming the train station. Trinity had told her not to drive. Josie had only ever been to New York City on a class trip as a teenager. She vaguely remembered crowded sidewalks and congested streets. “If you drive, you’ll spend hours stuck in traffic,” Trinity told her. “Drive the two hours to Philadelphia’s Thirtieth Street Station and take a train from there.” Josie had followed her instructions, finding Philadelphia easy to navigate and the train ride short and uneventful. It wasn’t until she got off the train in New York City and found herself swept up in the throngs of people that she began to feel a bit overwhelmed. Her late husband Ray had booked a trip for them to Disneyworld for their first wedding anniversary, and she’d thought that place was crowded. This made Disneyworld look like a ghost town.

She took out her cell phone long enough to text Trinity and let her know she had arrived. Then she wheeled her small suitcase along behind her, trying to maneuver through the swarms out to the sidewalk where she planned to catch a cab. Forty minutes later she was finally in the back of a taxi on her way to Trinity’s midtown Manhattan apartment building. She checked her phone once more. Nothing from Noah. The cab pulled to an abrupt stop in front of a silvered glass building that stretched far into the sky. Just gazing up at its face made Josie a little dizzy. The driver was gone before she had even pulled her little bag onto the pavement. Trinity appeared before her as a pair of automatic doors flashed behind her.

“Hey, sis,” she said, giving Josie a quick squeeze and taking control of her bag. A frown formed on her face. “What happened to your cheek?” she asked, pointing to the cut Gretchen had given Josie.

Gingerly, Josie touched the butterfly closure over it. “Long story that I don’t care to discuss.”

Trinity raised a brow but left it alone. “Fair enough,” she said, spinning on her heel and striding toward the building.

Josie followed as Trinity wheeled the bag into the opulent lobby decorated in white and beige tones. Marble tiled floors dotted with straight-backed white leather chairs led to a set of glass elevators. They had to pass by a semicircular white security desk manned by two burly men in uniforms to reach the elevators. Trinity introduced Josie proudly, her megawatt television smile reaching ear to ear. As they stepped inside the elevator, Trinity gushed, “I can’t wait for you to see my place. I just moved in a few months ago. My old place was a dump compared to this building.”

Josie’s phone buzzed as the elevator climbed and climbed, finally stopping on floor thirty-four. She looked at it to see a missed call from Noah. Clutching the phone in one hand, Josie tried to keep track of each turn she and Trinity made in the maze of hallways so she would be able to find her way back to the elevators when it was time to meet Jack Starkey. Josie was momentarily paralyzed by the breathtaking view that drew her gaze the moment she stepped over the threshold. An entire wall of Trinity’s apartment was made of windows that gave an expansive view of the city.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Trinity asked, wheeling Josie’s suitcase in and setting it next to the front door.

The view was fantastic, but to Josie, the apartment itself was small. “It’s huge by New York City standards,” Trinity assured her. The living room, dining room, and kitchen all seemed to be squeezed into a single space roughly the size of Josie’s living room. A short hallway led to a bedroom and bathroom. The furniture was sleek and white, everything small and understated, with gold and silver accents—abstract metallic wall art, shiny satin throw pillows, and tall glass vases with willow branches reaching toward the ceiling. It was modern and elegant, and Josie could imagine it being the subject of a magazine article. One of those celebrity-shows-off-her-home pieces.

“Do you like it?” Trinity asked.

“It’s beautiful,” Josie said, although she preferred a more homey space where she wouldn’t be so afraid to spill food on the furniture.

As if reading her mind, Trinity said, “Don’t worry about getting stuff dirty. I’ve got wear care on the upholstery. You can pour red wine all over it and it will come out in minutes.”

Josie wondered how much that cost. She moved into the living room space, where a large square of white shag area carpet held a couch, a glass-topped coffee table, and a large-screen television. “I have to call Noah back.”

“Go ahead,” Trinity said. “I made coffee. I’ll make you some while you call him.”

Josie nodded, taking a seat on the couch and dialing Noah’s number as she watched Trinity busy herself in the kitchen space only a few feet away. She had rarely seen her sister so happy and carefree. It occurred to Josie that beyond their parents, who would be proud no matter what, Trinity really had no one to share her life or accomplishments with. Josie couldn’t even imagine how high the rent must be for an apartment like this, but she knew Trinity had worked her butt off to be able to afford it. If they hadn’t lost thirty years, they would have shared everything. Not for the first time, Josie wondered how their lives—even their personalities—might have been different if they’d been together. She thought of Dr. Perry Larson and his study of how genes expressed themselves differently, and wondered if that also applied to tastes and preferences.

On the eighth ring, Noah picked up. “Hey,” he said. “I’ve got some news.”

He didn’t ask how her trip was or if she had arrived safely. It was their old rhythm. Right to the point. There was work to be done. Talking like this—like they always had—made her feel better about things between them. “Tell me,” Josie said.

“The Wawa mug? It came back with Gretchen’s prints on it.”

A gasp lodged in Josie’s throat. Part of her had been sure she was grasping at straws when she’d sent the mug to the lab for expedited processing. Even though she’d suspected the mug had been Gretchen’s, she was still shocked at the hard evidence. “Anyone else’s prints?” she asked.

“A partial, but the quality isn’t good enough for them to run it through AFIS.”

“Shit.”

Trinity waved to her from the kitchen, and she stood and walked over, accepting the cup of coffee Trinity offered, prepared exactly the way she liked it. On the phone, Noah went on, “I already got Loughlin down here. We met with Bowen. Loughlin wanted to question Gretchen about the mug—at least try to confirm that Gretchen owned a Wawa travel mug—but Bowen put the brakes on everything.”

“What?” Josie said.

“He’s concerned that an item found with Gretchen’s prints on it at a second crime scene will only do damage. He said if we want to charge her with the Wilkins murders, then we need to develop our own case. He’s not going to help us by letting his client answer questions.”

Josie sipped her coffee while Trinity opened a glossy magazine on the kitchen counter. Josie knew she was listening, though she pretended to be engrossed in the pages. “I guess I can see that, but there’s no way we can make the leap from a mug with her prints on it to double murder. Margie Wilkins was sexually assaulted. Gretchen didn’t do that.”

“Bowen thinks we’re going to nail her as an accomplice to the murders.”

“I can see Chitwood trying to do that. What I’ve been saying all along is that there’s someone else involved, but not as an accomplice.”

“Or maybe she is protecting her accomplice,” Noah suggested.

“No,” Josie said instantly. Gretchen was so frightened that she would rather punch a colleague in the face and be in prison than be exonerated. Like the spikes lining the windows of her house, her actions were driven by a fear of something, not by a need to protect a murderer.

“Well,” Noah said before she could start another argument between them about Gretchen’s guilt or innocence, “Loughlin’s going to give it another go with Bowen and see if she can’t get a conversation with Gretchen.”

“Keep me posted,” Josie said tersely and pressed End Call before she was tempted to have a longer conversation with him. They’d been over everything repeatedly. Nothing about either the Omar case or the Wilkins case fit—and now nothing made sense at all. Josie didn’t think for one moment that Gretchen had been at the Wilkinses’ house. She was certain that whoever shot Omar took Gretchen’s travel mug from her home and left it at the Wilkinses’ house after their murders. Why was a question she wasn’t ready to tackle yet. She needed more information. She had no idea where she would get it, but she would keep kicking over stones until she found something useful. Starting with ATF agent Jack Starkey and whatever he knew about Gretchen’s secret past.

“Well, that was tense,” Trinity noted as Josie rinsed out her coffee mug in the tiny sink.

Josie gave a wry smile. “We’re agreeing to disagree.”

“Sounds fun.” Trinity walked her the few feet to the door. “Oh, I should tell you. A professor from Drexel University contacted me. He’s doing some kind of study. Genetics or something like that.”

Josie groaned. “Epigenetics.”

Trinity arched a perfectly plucked brow. “Yes, that’s right. He’s doing a study on twins separated at birth. The only reason I took the call is because he told my assistant he had already spoken with you.”

“He did speak with me,” Josie said, irritation edging her voice. “And I told him we weren’t interested.”

She hadn’t pegged Perry Larson for the pushy type—not the kind of person who would go behind Josie’s back after she had already told him no.

Trinity put one hand on her hip. “You told him ‘we’ weren’t interested? Without even asking me?”

Josie raised a brow. “You can’t possibly be interested in a twin study. No, let me rephrase. You can’t possibly have time for one.”

Trinity said, “Well, that is true, although he was quite compelling. Apparently, it’s quite hard to find twins who were separated at birth.”

“Not my problem,” Josie muttered. “I’ve got murderers to track down.”

Trinity smiled. “And I’ve got news to report. But in the future, maybe we could decide something like that together?”

It was hard for Josie to get used to having a sister. She touched Trinity’s hand. “You got it.”

“Now, go meet your mystery ATF agent and call me if you need rescuing.”