Her Final Confession

Chapter Seventy-One

Outside the Denton Police Station was a sea of Harley Davidsons as far as the eye could see. They filled up the street, blocking off traffic in every direction. Josie didn’t even try to count how many there were. All of them wore the Devil’s Blade bandana on their heads. Most looked like stereotypical bikers: heavy, rough leather jackets; long, scraggly hair; lengthy beards; tattoos on any exposed skin; and a look of menace that would make even a seasoned officer squirm. Except no one was squirming today. Gretchen, Josie, Noah, Dan Lamay, Heather Loughlin, and several other curious officers stood on the front steps of the station house, waiting as the sea of bikes parted down the middle and two people got off the backs of bikes driven by someone else.

Josie could tell by the awkward way the two of them dismounted that they were Gretchen’s children. Each of them tugged off a helmet and handed it to the biker who had driven them. Ethan looked exactly as he had in the photo of him and James on their fridge, but he was taller and skinnier than she had anticipated. His sister was equally as tall and thin, with long, dark hair that flowed down her back. When she turned her face toward the building, Josie was stunned by her resemblance to Gretchen. In fact, both of them looked a lot like their mother. Josie studied them as they approached slowly. She could see O’Hara in their faces, but his imprint was faint compared to Gretchen’s.

Gretchen stepped down to meet them at the bottom of the steps. The three of them stood around in awkward silence for a long moment. Finally, the girl stuck her hand out in Gretchen’s direction. “Hi, I’m Paula,” she said.

From where she stood, Josie could see the tears spill over and stream down Gretchen’s cheeks as she took the hand of her daughter for the first time. “Gretchen,” she croaked.

Ethan threw his arms around Gretchen, and slowly, she responded, wrapping her own arms around him and talking quietly into his ear.

The engines of the motorcycles roared once more. As each motorcycle departed, the biker gave Gretchen a small wave, almost a salute. Gretchen held one palm up in a constant wave back until every last one of them was gone.

Josie walked down to the pavement and introduced herself. “Let’s go inside,” she told them. “There’s a lot to talk about.”