The Bones She Buried

Thirty-Four

Josie went to Noah’s favorite barbecue restaurant and got his favorite meal. It was what he would have done for her—what he had always done for her in times of great stress. He made sure she ate and got enough rest even when those were the last things she wanted to do.

She found him at Colette’s. Every light in the house was on. The front door was unlocked. As she moved through the house calling his name, she saw boxes stacked in each room. Noah was in Colette’s bedroom, throwing clothes from her dresser into an open box on the bed, sweat pouring from his temples down the sides of his face. His dampened T-shirt clung to his torso. His movements were frenetic. Once the box was full, he punched the clothes down inside it, taped it shut, and grabbed another box from the floor.

“Noah,” Josie said as she set the takeout bag on the empty dresser.

“Hey,” he said. He gave her a glance and kept going, yanking clothes off the hangers in the closet and stuffing them into the new box.

“You’ve been at this all day?” Josie said. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” he said. “I just want to finish.”

Josie took another step into the room and grabbed another empty box from the floor. “Let me help you,” she said.

He didn’t protest. They worked in silence until everything in the room was packed into boxes. Noah collapsed onto the edge of his mother’s bed, shoulders slumped. His skin was pale, and dark circles smudged the skin below his eyes. Josie gave him a moment to catch his breath, sitting next to him and lightly stroking his back. “I brought you something to eat,” she said. “Let’s go down to the kitchen, okay? You need to eat.”

He pointed at the bag. “Is that from Talulah’s?”

“Yes,” Josie said.

When he smiled at her, her heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” he said, reaching for the container, opening it, pulling out the sandwich and eating it where he sat. His movements gradually slowed from the manic pace of earlier, and Josie was surprised when, between mouthfuls, he asked her if there were any new developments. She started to tell him about her and Gretchen’s day, but when she got to the part about interviewing his dad, Noah turned to stare at her, his mouth hanging open, a lump of half-chewed beef brisket visible. A red hue crept from his collar to the roots of his hair. He said, “You talked to my father? You went to his house? Behind my back? Without even talking to me?”

Josie stood up from the bed. “I didn’t do it ‘behind your back,’” she said, perplexed. “Noah, you know this was a legitimate line of inquiry.”

“We’re talking about my dad here,” he said, his voice nearly a shout. He tossed the remains of his sandwich into its takeout container and paced the room.

“Yes, but to us he was a family member of one of our victims who might have had knowledge that would help our investigation. Noah, you know this.”

“He’s not a family member,” Noah snarled. “He is not family to me. He abandoned my mother. He cheated on her, and then he walked out and never looked back.”

Josie stood and tried to take one of his arms, but he swatted her away and continued to pace in the small area. “I’m sorry, Noah,” Josie said. “I’m sorry that your mother died. I’m sorry we’ve had to speak to your father. I can’t even imagine how painful this must be for you, but please know that Mettner, Gretchen and I are trying to find the person who killed your mother. That’s all.”

“What did he tell you?” Noah asked. “What did he say about her?”

“That she was a devoted wife and mother,” Josie said. “He admitted to the cheating. He told me a story about you and a friend horsing around and you breaking your nose. He said he took you to the hospital.”

Noah scoffed. “Yeah, only cause my mom was out.”

“You were thirteen?” Josie coaxed.

“Yeah. Mom was so upset. Way, way more upset than any of us thought she’d be over a broken nose. I mean, one time Laura and I were fighting and we knocked over her curio cabinet, broke everything in it and fractured Laura’s wrist. She was twelve. Needed three surgeries and a bunch of physical therapy. Cost my parents a fortune. Mom wasn’t even that upset when that happened, but when I broke my nose… I don’t know, maybe because it was on my face? I remember we were supposed to get our pictures taken for the baseball team—they made these frames for the pictures that made them look like fake baseball cards. Anyway, I looked like someone beat me up.”

“It was spring?” Josie said.

“Yeah. Theo’s birthday is April 28th. It was right before that. I remember because he came home to visit us and my mom was still pissed about the whole thing so she was in a really terrible mood the whole weekend, and Theo joked that I ruined his trip by getting mom so worked up.” At this, he laughed. Then his brow kinked and he said, “Why would he tell that story? He wanted you to think he was this great, caring dad?”

“Wasn’t he?” Josie asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, for the most part?”

“Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, until he walked out. But that’s just it. How much could he have possibly cared? He started a whole new family,” Noah said. “He spent thirty-four years with my mother, and then he walked away from her and started all over again. Discarded us like we were nothing.”

Josie said, “I’m so sorry, Noah. He said he made efforts to reach out to you, Laura and Theo.”

He snorted. “Efforts. He called me once. One time. Said if I ever wanted to get together, to just give him a call. That was his effort. He’s a liar and a piece of shit. He didn’t care about us or my mother. He hasn’t been in our lives in almost fifteen years. You didn’t need to talk to him. If you wanted to know about him, you could have asked.”

“Noah, we go where the investigation takes us. You know this. Do you think I enjoyed it when my personal life—every horrible thing that ever happened to me in childhood— was picked apart last year? It was devastating. But I dealt with it—in part because you were there for me. I’m trying to be there for you.”

“No, you’re trying to solve a case.”

Josie threw her arms in the air. “Yes, that too! I’m not trying to hide that. When I close my eyes at night, I still see your mother’s face, just like you, and I see your face. I see the pain this has caused you, and I want to stop the person who did this and make them pay.”

“You didn’t need to go there today. Gretchen could have gone on her own. You could have asked me what happened with my dad, but instead you went there without even consulting me first. Did you get what you wanted?”

“What I wanted? I don’t know what you’re—”

Her words were cut off by the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house. They both froze, meeting one another’s eyes for a split second before rushing out the bedroom door and down the hall. The smell of something burning filled the air. Noah was in front of her, heading toward the stairs. Josie clamped a hand down on his shoulder. “Noah, he’s here.”

Billows of thick gray smoke snaked up the stairwell and licked the ceiling of the hallway.

“Get down,” Josie said, tugging Noah down to the floor.

On their hands and knees, they crawled to the top of the steps, but the smoke was too thick for them to make their way down. Josie’s eyes watered; the fumes seared and scratched the back of her throat. Sweat slicked her skin, making her clothes feel heavy against her. She grabbed at Noah’s calf to stop him from going any further. He looked over his shoulder at her, but his face was barely visible through the thickening smoke. Josie knew that with fires, inhalation was the main cause of death. She pointed toward one of the doors in the hall. “The bathroom!” she shouted.

They crawled down the hall toward the bathroom, Josie closing the door behind them and leaning against it, her breath coming hard, chest burning. Boxes lined one wall of the narrow, cramped space. Noah tore one open and pulled out towels which he wet under the tap. He handed her one and she swiped at her face, the cold feeling like heaven against her flaming skin.

“I think the downstairs might be fully engulfed by now,” Josie said. She took out her cell phone from her back pocket and dialed 911, asking the dispatcher to send the fire department and an ambulance immediately. A cough erupted from her chest as she pocketed her phone. Noah pried the bathroom window open and punched out the screen, extending his head outside.

Josie stood. “How far down is it?”

He brought his upper body back inside and motioned for her to look. From the window, Josie could see dark smoke pouring from the downstairs windows of the house. Directly below was a sheer drop into one of Colette’s perfectly pruned flower beds. They were high enough to break something should they have to jump, but not enough to kill themselves. Josie turned back to see smoke filtering under the bathroom door and grabbed one of the wet towels, pressing it tight against the gap.

Noah said, “We can’t wait. We’re going to have to jump. Another five or ten minutes and the upstairs will be engulfed as well.”

“You’re right,” Josie said, coughing again.

Noah tore the shower curtain down and twisted one corner of it around his left hand and wrist. “I’m going to hang this out the window and hold onto it. If you slide down it, you can drop to the ground without getting hurt.”

“What about you?” Josie asked.

“I’ll be fine.”

Josie motioned to the window. “No, you won’t. Noah, you’re going to get hurt if you jump.”

“Then I’ll get hurt. Josie, we have to get out of here. Now.”

He pushed her toward the window. Josie climbed out and let her body slide down the siding, her palms hanging onto the window sill. Once she was suspended there, heat and smoke blowing up from beneath her, Noah leaned out, throwing the shower curtain out beside her. Using one hand, Josie grabbed a handful of the vinyl material. It wouldn’t hold for long, but it would be enough for her to slide down and soften her fall. Once she had a firm grip on it with her right hand, she transferred all her weight to the shower curtain and took her left hand from the window sill and wrapped it around the curtain. Above her, Noah’s face reddened and dripped with sweat from exertion. “Go,” he told her.

Little by little, she slid down the curtain until there were only inches left. She had no choice but to let go. With a glance down, she saw that she had gotten much closer to the ground. Maybe only five or six feet separated her feet from the dirt below. With one last look at Noah, she let go, her body sliding down the exterior of the house, and her feet landing hard in the soil below. A shock went through her heels up to her thighs, and her knees buckled, sending her flat on her ass. But she was safe and nothing was broken. The shower curtain flew away from the house, and Noah’s legs appeared in the window—first one, then the other—until he was dangling from the window just as Josie had just been.

She heard the crack of bone breaking as he landed. He writhed on the ground, clutching his leg. Josie knelt beside him, watching his mouth yawn open to scream out in pain, but as he struggled for breath, no sound came. She didn’t know if the fall had knocked the wind out of him, if the pain was making it difficult to take in air or if the toxic smoke they’d inhaled made it hard for him to breathe, but there was nothing she could do but wait for his breath to return. When it did, she helped him up, fitting her body under his left arm. He kept his left foot up off the ground as they hobbled together away from the house. Josie heard sirens in the distance. As she deposited Noah onto the neighbor’s front yard, she glanced around to see many of the street’s residents had turned their lights on and come outside. The fire, now fully engulfing Colette’s home, lit up the entire street. Josie’s eyes tracked the various vehicles parked in driveways. No vehicles were parked along the street. Then she saw a crumpled form in the middle of the road. “Wait here,” she told Noah. “And don’t move.”

Josie unsnapped her holster as she raced toward the figure, but as soon as she got to him, she realized he wasn’t a threat. It was an older man, probably in his seventies, judging by his thinning white hair and wrinkled, age-spotted face. Curled on his side, he groaned. Josie knelt down and touched his shoulder gingerly. “Sir,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“He hit me,” the man rasped. “Son of a bitch hit me.”

Gently, she turned him onto his back. “Where did he hit you?”

Sweat poured off Josie’s brow, and her chest felt heavy. The man pointed to his stomach. “Here,” he gasped. “Hit me hard, too. I went right down.”

“Who hit you?” Josie asked, pressing two fingers against the inside of his wrist to check his pulse, which was strong and steady.

“The guy burning Colette’s house down,” he said. “Help me sit up.”

Josie slid an arm under his shoulders and lifted him to sitting. “You saw someone? What did he look like?”

“Big. Burly. Dressed all in black. He had a ballcap on. I live over there—” He turned slightly and pointed to the house directly across from Colette’s. “I saw Noah come in this morning. Talked to him. I’ve seen you here a few times so when you pulled up, I knew it was okay.”

Josie wondered whether he had been watching Colette’s home this closely before her murder. As if reading her mind, he said, “I only started paying attention after Colette was killed over there. It’s terrible. A terrible thing. These things don’t happen around here.”

Josie glanced back at Colette’s house where two fire trucks and an ambulance had just shown up. She watched as two paramedics rushed over to where Noah lay on his neighbor’s grass. “I know,” she said. “They shouldn’t happen anywhere. What happened? You saw him coming out of the house?”

“I saw him go in. He came walking from down there.” He pointed down the street from Colette’s house. “Then I waited a few minutes. I noticed what looked like fire in the downstairs window. Came out to the end of the driveway. Still wasn’t sure what I was looking at. Heard some commotion in there so I came out here to the street. Then I saw smoke coming out the windows and I knew. I was going to go back inside and call 911, but then he came running out from behind the house, right in my direction.”

“Did you see his face?” Josie asked.

The man shook his head. “Not really. He had that cap on. It wasn’t as bright out here as it is now. It looked like he had dark eyes—beady, like a rat, and a flat nose like it was broke a few times. That’s all I can tell you.” He groaned and held his stomach. “It hurts. He hit me hard. I told him to stop. He never even said anything. Just punched me in the gut and ran off.”

“I know you’re in pain right now, but can you estimate height and weight?”

“Maybe five foot ten?” he said uncertainly. “Two hundred pounds?”

“Boss!” It was Mettner rushing toward her from his patrol car. Behind him trailed paramedics from a second ambulance, rolling a gurney with them.

As the paramedics lifted the elderly neighbor onto the gurney and took him off to the ambulance, Josie gave Mettner all the information she had as quickly as possible, including a description of the man seen fleeing Colette’s home. “I want units out looking for this guy,” Josie said. “He was on foot so he may have parked not far from here. Get someone to canvass residents on the neighboring streets to see if they saw any strange cars, strange men or anything unusual.”

“You got it, boss,” Mettner said, jogging off.

Josie stood alone in the middle of the street, staring down the small hill in the direction the arsonist had gone. She glanced back to where Noah was being loaded into an ambulance. The firemen were already blasting their hoses at what was left of Colette’s house, trying to contain the fire. As the ambulance with Noah in it pulled away, Josie sprinted down the hill.