Her Mother’s Grave

Chapter Fifty-Six

“Boss,” Noah said as she fled past him down the hallway. The distance from the interrogation room to her office seemed endless, like she was in one of those nightmares where no matter how fast you ran, you never moved, and the end was always just out of reach. Breath came in short gasps, her palm clammy as it closed around the door handle at last.

Noah was only a few feet behind; she heard the sound of his feet slowing on the tiles behind her. “Boss,” he called again. “What the hell was that about?”

She slammed the door in his face, locked it, slumped against it, and slid down to the floor. Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. Too fast—it was going too fast. Dizziness assailed her. Noah called to her from the other side of the door, but she couldn’t answer. She looked around her office, but all she saw were flashes from her childhood—her mother stalking the darkness of the trailer, waiting for Josie’s dad to return, muttering words Josie would never forget:

I’ll destroy everything you love.

It was her all along. How long had she been back? What had brought her back after all these years? Where was she? The memories of the things Belinda—no, Lila—had done to her awoke and screamed into Josie’s mind, black and cloying. She squeezed her eyes shut, but that only made it worse. Clambering to her feet, she moved behind her desk, hands searching for the framed photo of her and Ray as nine-year-olds. She focused on his face, remembering all the ways he had helped her face the monsters in her head. She was suddenly glad Ray was dead—it meant her mother couldn’t hurt him.

She looked up to the corkboard above her desk where she had pinned several photos—Josie and her predecessor, Chief Harris, at one of her promotion ceremonies years earlier. Photos of people she’d never met—victims whose grateful families had written her letters after she’d solved their cases. A photo of Josie and Lisette from Lisette’s last birthday. The most recent photo was a candid shot of little Harris Quinn, giggling with smashed baby peas all over his face.

“Oh Jesus,” Josie mumbled to herself.

She sprang up and opened the door to her office to find Noah still there, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes piercing.

“I need a detail on Misty Derossi and my grandmother,” she said.

“What was that guy talking about, Boss?” Noah asked.

“He’s talking about my mother. She’s back. She’s here, or somewhere nearby. She’s behind all of this—the ads, the robbery. She’s coming after me and the people I love; no one is safe. You need to get someone over to Rockview. I’d bring Gram home with me, but it’s not safe. And Misty and Harris—she’ll find out about them. I can’t let anything happen to them. Not because of me.”

Noah’s arms dropped to his sides as she spoke. “Let me go at this guy. He must know where she is. We’ll get to her first.”

“No,” Josie said. “He doesn’t know where she is. Not that he would tell you anyway. She’s smarter than that. She would have come to him. If she knew that I was going to find him, she wouldn’t make it that easy.”

Behind Noah, Gretchen approached, a piece of paper in her hand. She reached past Noah and handed it to Josie. “Found that boyfriend. Fraley told me his name. Dexter McMann lives in Fairfield now.”

It was a little over an hour away. Josie could get there in half that time.

“There’s a phone number there,” Gretchen said.

“I don’t need it,” Josie told her. She went to her desk and found her car keys. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I’m going with you,” Noah said.

“No, you’re not. I need you to stay here, make sure Zeke gets properly booked, get someone out to Misty’s place and Rockview.”

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw another text from Trinity reminding her she had agreed to meet that day.

Something came up at work, Josie shot back. I’ll try to stop by tonight, but it will probably have to wait till tomorrow.

In reply, Trinity sent her a pouty-face emoji. Josie rolled her eyes, pocketed her phone, and left the building.