The Bones She Buried

Nine

Josie knew it would be a couple of hours before they had a warrant to access the flash drive, but when she drove back to Noah’s house she found no one home. A quick text to him directed her to the nearest funeral home—the same funeral home where her late husband, Ray Quinn’s funeral service had been held four years earlier. Her heart did a double tap as she passed through its heavy wooden doors. It was just as she remembered, with thick carpets and walls that muffled any sound, decorated in somber tones probably meant to soothe but which only made Josie’s stomach turn. She had been to more than her fair share of funerals since the missing girls case that killed Ray and had no desire to attend anymore, certainly not one for Colette Fraley.

But there Colette’s children sat in the director’s office, ringed around a large desk, faces tear-stained and stricken as the funeral director showed them a selection of caskets from a large binder. After quietly nodding at Laura and Grady and giving Theo a quick hug, she sat down beside Noah and took his hand. Josie tried to focus on the discussion, but her mind kept drifting back to the items in Colette’s sewing machine. Who, or what was Pratt?

“Josie?” Noah asked.

She shook herself back into the room and offered him a smile. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Laura spoke up. “Did you speak to the medical examiner? When will our mother be released to us?”

“Oh, sorry. Yes, I did. She’ll be released tomorrow.”

All heads turned back toward the director as a discussion about dates ensued. Then came the issue of money; even if they went for the more inexpensive route of cremation, they were still looking at thousands of dollars. There was a small discussion amongst the siblings which was eventually resolved by the agreement that they would each pay one third of the costs, and they would be reimbursed when the payout from Collette’s small life insurance policy came through.

Once the meeting was over, they decided to go to lunch, although none of them looked as though they had an appetite. Theo drove off toward the restaurant in his rental car, and after Noah assured them he would get a ride with Josie, Laura and Grady followed in her SUV. Josie and Noah hung back, standing at the entrance to the funeral home. At least it was a nice day, Josie thought as the sun warmed them and a cool breeze caressed their faces.

“My car is right over there,” Josie said when Noah made no move toward the parking lot.

He stood staring into the distance, face blank.

Josie touched his arm. “Noah?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“You know, you don’t have to go to lunch. I’m sure your brother and sister would understand.”

He said nothing.

She didn’t want to do it, but she also had no idea when the next time they’d be alone would be, so she cleared her throat and said, “Noah, does the name ‘Pratt’ mean anything to you?”

He turned his head to look at her, brows knit together. “What?”

“Pratt,” Josie repeated. “Is it familiar to you? Do you know anyone by that name?”

“Why are you asking?”

“I was with Mettner at your mother’s house earlier. A few things upstairs were disturbed. We were trying to straighten up in your mother’s sewing room and found some… things hidden in the base of her sewing machine. One was a flash drive with the name ‘Pratt’ written on it.”

Noah shook his head. “I don’t know anyone named Pratt, and neither did my mom.”

“You’re sure?”

“It must not be hers.”

“But it was hidden in the bottom of her sewing machine. She used that machine almost daily, didn’t she? Where did she get it? Did she buy it new?”

“No, I gave it to her as a Christmas gift a few years ago,” he answered.

Josie took out her phone and pulled up photos of the belt buckle and arrowhead to show him. “Do you recognize these?”

Noah shook his head. “No, I’ve never seen them before. I mean, that just looks like an arrowhead, like you used to find in the woods.”

Josie pocketed her phone with a sigh. “What about the belt buckle? Could it have belonged to your dad? Or someone else your mom knew?”

He shook his head. “No. My dad never wore stuff like that, and my mom didn’t have any men in her life after he left. I have no idea where that came from or whose it is. Why are you asking me all this now?”

“I’m trying to get to the bottom of what happened,” Josie said quietly.

“My mother is dead, that’s what happened,” he said flatly, walking off toward her car.

“Noah?” Josie called.

She jogged after him, moving around to block his path. “I know you’re hurting right now, but someone killed your mother and it’s my job to find out who. As far as we know, he’s still out there. I don’t want anyone else to be hurt or killed. You know I have to ask these questions.”

He stared at the asphalt for a beat then a gravelly laugh sounded from deep in his throat. “You can’t just be… Josie, can you?”

She took a step back. “What?”

His hazel eyes zeroed in on her face. “It isn’t your job to find the person who killed my mom. It’s not your job to ask these questions. You don’t need to be out on some crusade. We have other people for this. Gretchen, Hummel, Mettner.”

“You know that Gretchen is on the desk. Hummel’s the head of the Evidence Response Team, he’s not a detective, and Mettner is good, but he’s inexperienced. Do you really want your mother’s case handled by the most inexperienced member of the team without any oversight?”

“Oversight from you, you mean.”

“Unless I can get Gretchen off the desk, yes.”

He said nothing but looked past her, his face awash with grief and frustration.

“Noah,” Josie said. “You can’t see it now because you’re hurting too much, but I promise you that one day it’s going to matter very much that your mother’s killer is behind bars.”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “It won’t bring her back,” he said. “Nothing that you do is going to bring her back.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

He met her eyes. “Then just be my girlfriend right now.”

She felt the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I am your girlfriend, Noah, and I’m here with you right now. Listen, I know you’re upset, but—but why aren’t you more—”

“More what?”

Josie shook her head. “I don’t know. I just know that if someone I loved was murdered, I wouldn’t be able to sleep or eat or concentrate on anything else until I found the killer and put them away. Chitwood would have to lock me up to keep me away from the investigation.”

“You think I don’t care that someone murdered my mom?”

“That’s not what I said. I just—”

He cut her off. “That’s just what you meant.”

“No, I didn’t mean that. You know damn well I didn’t mean that. Noah, I just want to see that this is made right.”

“But it can’t be ‘made right’,” he said. “Don’t you get that? Find the killer. Put him in prison. It won’t bring my mom back. It won’t get the image of her face out of my mind—you know, when we were doing the CPR.” He hung his head, but not before Josie saw fresh tears glistening in his eyes.

She touched his arm gently. “I know,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

He took a moment to compose himself and then waved a hand in dismissal. “Let’s just go to lunch, okay?”

Tentatively, Josie reached down and took his hand in hers. She led him to her car and drove to the Denton diner with Noah staring out the window, not saying a word. It had been less than a day since they’d found Colette. He was still in shock. She could feel pain radiating off him in waves—raw and edgy. She wished more than anything that she could take it away from him; that she could somehow restore what was lost to him. But she knew that she could not. The best she could do was stand by him and try to find his mother’s killer.