Her Final Confession

Chapter Fifty-Five

It took them an hour to track down the couple who had adopted Amy and Justin Neal’s son back in 1994. Since Josie had taken trips to both Philadelphia and New York City in the last week, Noah got the job of cold-calling them and having one of the more awkward conversations that Josie had ever overheard in her life. He got through to them on their landline, and Josie could hear both the husband’s and wife’s voices through Noah’s desktop phone. She imagined one of them talking on a phone in the kitchen while the other sat on a bed upstairs on the other phone.

Their son was now an adult, and they couldn’t understand why the issue of the adoption was being brought up again. They had taken him on as a foster child when he was still an infant and raised him for several years before the adoption was finalized. That would explain why no one in the Neals’ lives at the time of their murders knew about their son. He’d been taken from them as a baby. His adoptive parents told Noah that their son knew he was adopted, but they would prefer if the matter was not dragged into the light all these years later. As the discussion continued, Josie was glad that Noah had made the call. He was patient and calm, as always, and somehow managed to explain that a photo that might be of their son was found at a crime scene without sending their anxiety sky-rocketing. Finally, they agreed to receive the photo by email to see if the boy pictured was indeed their son. Noah read off his phone number to them three times before hanging up.

He ran a hand over his face. “It may take them several weeks to access their email and then actually view the photo,” he complained.

Josie rubbed at the knots in the back of her neck, trying to loosen the tension that had built while Noah spoke with the couple. She had a lot riding on their answer. “Dear lord, I hope it doesn’t take them that long.”

Noah studied her. “You should go home, get some sleep,” he said. “You look exhausted.”

“I am, but if you think I’ll be able to sleep while we’re waiting to hear back about that photo or from Loughlin about getting a meeting with Gretchen, you’re out of your mind.”

Standing, Noah grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “Let’s walk down to Komorrah’s then and get some coffee.”

The last rays of sunlight warmed the autumn air as they walked the two blocks to a nearby coffee shop. Stepping through the doors, Josie couldn’t help but think of the last time she’d been there with Gretchen. They’d eaten pastries and discussed their abusive mothers, and Josie had felt comfort in the fact that Gretchen understood, on some level, what she was going through.

“I’m going to need a Danish,” Josie said as they stepped up to the counter.

Noah smiled and started to order, but his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and glanced at it. “It’s about the photo,” he said.

Josie waved him off and finished ordering, keeping one eye on Noah as he spoke softly into his phone on the other side of the shop. She paid, waited for their order, and found a table in the back of the dining area where it was quiet and they were unlikely to be bothered. Seconds later, Noah joined her, his face pale.

“I was right,” she said.

He picked up his coffee but didn’t drink. “Yeah,” he said. “You were right. That photo—it’s of their son. The mother gave it to Amy Neal after the adoption was final. She wanted Amy to know that he was happy.”

“So the Seattle Soul Mate Strangler did take something from the Neal scene, and he’s held on to it all this time.”

“How else would it have ended up here in Pennsylvania?” Noah asked. “And in the driveway of his only surviving victim? He must have brought it with him to Gretchen’s house, killed Omar, and left it there,” Noah said.

“Then he kidnapped Gretchen, but he had to take something from the scene, because that’s a compulsion for him, so he took her mug, which he then left at the Wilkins scene,” Josie filled in. “And we never would have known had it not been for his connection to Gretchen.”

“We never would have known had it not been for you pushing to unravel Gretchen’s past,” Noah said. “You were right about all of it. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, Josie.”

“You mean you’re sorry you doubted Gretchen.”

“Yes, but I’m also sorry I doubted you.”

Josie smiled at him. “It’s okay. I’ll let it slide this time. You’ve always had my back in the past. Of course, I just thought that was because you were secretly in love with me.”

It was meant as a joke, but the seriousness in his face stopped her cold, a cheese Danish lingering halfway from the table to her mouth.

“It wasn’t a secret,” Noah said. “I was in love with you. I still am.”

She gulped air. The Danish fell back onto the tray. “Noah.”

“It’s okay. I’m not asking you to say it back or anything like that. I know you need to move at your own pace. That’s not even my point. I’m just saying I was wrong. I get what you were trying to say about us sticking together. I underestimated your relationship with Gretchen. When you care about someone, you have their back. I know that you and Gretchen have an understanding—something aside from what you and I have. I should have respected that.”

Josie reached across and touched his hand. “Thank you.”

The moment passed. Noah cleared his throat and said, “So what’s next? Should we call Seattle PD?”

“We need a DNA match first,” Josie said. “I don’t want to go full throttle on this until we know for sure.”

“What about Gretchen? Why didn’t she just tell us it was him? Why did she confess to a crime she didn’t commit?” Noah asked. “What is she afraid of?”

“That’s where I’m stuck,” Josie admitted. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand why she’s protecting him.”

“Maybe it’s like a domestic violence kind of thing,” Noah offered.

“Meaning what?”

“He terrorized her, right?”

Josie nodded.

“Broke into her home, killed her husband, raped her, and then he taunted her until she was kidnapped. Hell, maybe she ran off with Linc Shore to get away from this freak. Starkey said he kept finding her, right? He didn’t find her while she was with Shore. But she’s obviously still afraid of him. People don’t put spikes on their windows unless they are terrified of something.”

“And they don’t keep only plastic dishes in their house twenty-five years after the crime if they’re not still afraid,” Josie mumbled.

“What’s that?”

Josie told him about Gretchen’s plastic dishes.

“Oh Jesus,” he replied.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of trauma there,” Josie said.

“So maybe it’s the trauma that’s keeping her from turning him in. She’s so afraid of him, and in her mind, he’s so powerful—more powerful than any police department, especially if he’s been able to track her down time and again even under police protection—that she feels safer not reporting him.”

“That’s what you meant by a domestic violence situation,” Josie said. “A lot of times, women know the system fails them, and they think the only way to stay alive is to lie and not press charges.”

Noah sipped his coffee. “We’ve seen what happens when things go wrong. A woman is brave enough to tell what’s happening to her. She presses charges. Gets a restraining order.”

“And then the guy violates it and kills her while she’s waiting for him to go to trial,” Josie filled in. “To other people she seems so irrational, but the threat is very real.”

“Hey, remember last year on the West Coast that young teenage girl was abducted from her home?”

“Yeah, and everyone thought her dad killed her?”

“That’s the one,” Noah said. “He took her to another state, but when they got there, he didn’t even bother trying to hide her. He started passing her off as his daughter, and she went along with it.”

“Because she was completely terrorized.”

He nodded. “Two people saw her and recognized her, but when they asked her if she was the missing girl, she said no, because she was absolutely terrified of him.”

“I thought someone saw her walking down the street with the guy, and that’s how she was found,” Josie said.

“Because that person didn’t ask her directly, and certainly not while he was standing right there—they got her away from him first, and after a lot of questioning, she finally admitted who she was.”

“It was okay if someone else figured it out,” Josie said. “As long as she wasn’t the one to turn him in.”

“Right.”

Josie didn’t have any trouble believing that the Soul Mate Strangler had twisted Gretchen’s psyche into something unrecognizable, or that he had a strange hold over her even all this time later. Some traumas left much deeper wounds than others. But she wasn’t entirely convinced that Noah’s psychological reasoning was enough to account for Gretchen letting a serial killer go free.

“She said she was responsible for Omar’s death,” Josie said. “Maybe she’s punishing herself.”

“Maybe we’ll get to ask her,” Noah said as his phone chirped.

Josie’s buzzed at the same time. It was a text from Loughlin to both of them.

Got you a sit-down with Gretchen. Bellewood County Jail. Tomorrow, 9 a.m. Be warned. Bowen is pissed. He advised against it. She wants to talk anyway.

Relief coursed through Josie. She typed back,

Thanks. See you then.

Josie and Noah finished their coffees. She was wondering if he would ask to come home with her or for her to come home with him. As exhausted as she was, she wouldn’t turn him down. Although they still had a few hours of work and lots of paperwork to do. “Better get me a coffee to go,” she told Noah as she went to use the restroom.

The owners of Komorrah’s kept a community corkboard in the small hallway leading to the restrooms. People advertised things like music lessons, dog walking services, and other random information. There were also flyers for community gatherings, and colorful pages advertising events that Komorrah’s was hosting—sometimes bands, sometimes artists, and other times, authors held signings. It was the last one that caught Josie’s eye—a flyer for an author event coming next month. The book was about the missing girls case that Josie herself had solved.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

She hadn’t been interviewed by the author for the book. As far as she knew, no one with direct knowledge of the case had been. Yet, here was someone with a book out about the case. She pushed her frustration back down to the dark place all her feelings about that case lived, and went to the bathroom. On the way out, she stopped again, considering whether or not to tear the flyer down and throw it away. Then her phone rang. It was Misty Derossi.

“I’m so sorry to bother you,” Misty said when Josie answered. “I know you guys have a lot going on right now with these murders. I wouldn’t ask unless—”

“It’s fine,” Josie said. “What’s up?”

“It’s work. They need someone to fill in overnight on the domestic violence hotline. I really want to do it. I had all those hours of training, and I hardly get to use them. But I need a sitter for Harris. Just overnight. He’s really good now—”

Again, Josie cut her off. “Bring him over on your way in.”

“Really?” Excitement filled Misty’s voice.

“Of course. I’ll be home. I just have to be out of the house by eight tomorrow.”

“I can pick him up at seven thirty. Thank you so much.”

Josie hung up and walked out to the counter where Noah stood, smiling, a cup of to-go coffee in his hand. So much for going home together.