Vanishing Girls

Chapter Sixty-One

She covered the chief with a sheet from the bed as reverently as she could in the godforsaken hellhole they were in. Nick’s body had gone completely still amongst the wide and extensive blood and bone spatter all around him. She let herself sob for several minutes beside her mentor, holding her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth like a child. She wailed and keened and let herself feel the unfathomable loss she had just experienced for a few private moments. Then she wiped her tears away and hauled herself to her feet. She found her pants and put them back on. Then she surveyed the room. She had to think. She had to be smart about this.

First things first. She had to open the doors. Dread was a heavy brick in her stomach. She didn’t know which door Gosnell had taken her out of so she would have to check each one. She started with the closest one and worked her way down. Much to her relief, the first cell was empty, although it looked as though it had been recently vacated. A crumpled blanket lay on the wooden cot, and a discarded fast food bag lay on the floor. When she opened the second door, she saw Ray’s boots and closed it again. She couldn’t bear to see him. Not like that. Not yet.

She sucked in a breath and opened the third door. Empty. Behind the fourth door a thin, waifish form curled cowering in the corner of the cell. She balled herself up tighter when Josie stepped through the door. “Hello?” Josie called. The woman shot upright and scurried away from her, one pale thin arm covering her eyes. “No more,” she said, her voice hoarse. Josie didn’t think it possible but the rage she felt toward Gosnell for all the horror he had inflicted on so many innocent young women burned even hotter.

“It’s okay,” Josie said. “You’re safe now. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Josie waited several moments. Finally, the woman lowered her arm and blinked, taking Josie in. It wasn’t Isabelle Coleman. This woman was likely in her mid-twenties, with short dark hair and a pointy chin. “Who are you?” the woman asked, the question sounding like an accusation.

“My name is Josie Quinn. I am a detect—” she stopped, tears rolling unbidden down her cheeks. She glanced back to where the chief’s body lay. Then she continued, straightening her posture and raising her chin proudly. “I’m the new chief of police in this town, and I’ve come to get you out of here.”