Her Final Confession

Chapter Seven

There were two bridges in Denton that crossed the Susquehanna River where it snaked and curved through the outer edges of the city. The bridge in south Denton was relatively small—one lane in each direction—and didn’t see very much traffic. On the other side of it lay a network of narrow roads that weaved through the mountains and led to the neighboring county of Lenore and its rolling valleys of farm and game land.

Josie pulled over on the shoulder and got out. Noah followed. “What are we looking for?” he asked.

One car passed by, headed toward downtown Denton. Otherwise, the air was still and quiet, the last rays of sun giving off a soft, pink and purple twilight glow. Josie leaned over the edge of the guardrail. Below them, the river flowed peacefully. “I don’t know,” Josie said.

Noah touched a hand to the guardrail. “Well, we know she didn’t drive the car off the bridge. Everything is intact. The banks don’t look disturbed. If someone drove down one of them, I’d expect to see some flattening of the brush, a tree knocked down.”

“Which means whoever stopped the vehicle on this bridge disabled the MDT,” Josie said. “And probably threw it into the river.”

“You think someone besides Gretchen was driving the car?”

Josie met his gaze. “You think Gretchen was driving? You think she left a dead body in her driveway, drove here, disabled her MDT, tossed it into the river, and then just took off?”

Noah’s voice was even, reasonable. He was always reasonable. “Gretchen was at the station. She got a call on her cell phone. She said, ‘I’ll be right there.’ She drove to the block next to her house. Her front door was ajar, and the shell casing found on her porch was a nine millimeter, which is the same caliber that her service weapon takes. Everything we know points to her having been at her house when the victim arrived and probably having shot him. Plus, disabling an MDT isn’t as easy as tossing it out of the car. Whoever did it knew what they were doing.”

“So maybe the person who shot that boy used Gretchen’s gun to shoot him and left him for dead in Gretchen’s driveway. Maybe that same person knew how to disable it, or maybe they made her do it.” As soon as she said the words, doubt seeped in. If Gretchen were under duress, she would have found a way to leave them a message, a clue. She would have made it look like the MDT was disabled but left the antenna intact so they could find her. Wouldn’t she?

“Josie,” Noah said. “I think we need to consider that we really don’t know Gretchen all that well—not enough to know what she’s really capable of.”

Josie put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “I know enough to know that Gretchen is not capable of shooting a boy in the back, leaving him behind, and running.”

Noah put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Boss—I mean, Josie—I know you have strong feelings about Gretchen, and she’s been a loyal, dedicated officer to the department here since she came on, but how much do you really know about her?”

Josie pushed past him on her way back to the car. Over her shoulder, she groused, “Enough. I know enough. Now let’s go to the rental car agency. We need to find out this kid’s identity and his connection to Gretchen.”