by Lisa Regan
Hush Little Girl
An absolutely gripping mystery and suspense thriller
Lisa Regan
Books by Lisa Regan
Detective Josie Quinn Series
Vanishing Girls
The Girl With No Name
Her Mother’s Grave
Her Final Confession
The Bones She Buried
Her Silent Cry
Cold Heart Creek
Find Her Alive
Save Her Soul
Breathe Your Last
Hush Little Girl
Available in Audio
Detective Josie Quinn Series
Vanishing Girls (Available in the UK and the US)
The Girl With No Name (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Mother’s Grave (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Final Confession (Available in the UK and the US)
The Bones She Buried (Available in the UK and the US)
Her Silent Cry (Available in the UK and the US)
Cold Heart Creek (Available in the UK and the US)
Find Her Alive (Available in the UK and the US)
Save Her Soul (Available in the UK and the US)
Breathe Your Last (Available in the UK and the US)
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Hear More from Lisa
Books by Lisa Regan
A Letter from Lisa
Vanishing Girls
The Girl With No Name
Her Mother’s Grave
Her Final Confession
The Bones She Buried
Her Silent Cry
Cold Heart Creek
Find Her Alive
Save Her Soul
Breathe Your Last
Acknowledgments
In loving memory of Dr. Chris Justofin, who saved my life,
and for Dr. Katherine Dahlsgaard, who saved the life of someone I love.
Prologue
Neither Josie nor Noah had time to brace for impact. The deer shot out of the trees to their left, a blur of faded brown. Its body met the front end of Noah’s new Chevrolet with perfectly imperfect timing. The hood of the car smashed inward like an aluminum soda can. Noah had no time to brake. Both their bodies launched forward. The seatbelt snapped taut across Josie’s body and her head whipped forward and back, leaving her disoriented. Blinking away the mind fog, she looked ahead to see a tendril of smoke rising from the compacted hood of the car. Noah’s voice floated over to her from the driver’s seat. “Josie? You okay? Josie?”
She turned her head toward him, flinching at the pain that streaked from the base of her skull down her neck. Blood trickled from a small cut on Noah’s forehead. Reaching toward him, she said, “You’re bleeding.”
He wiped the sleeve of his jacket across his head. “I’m fine,” he said. “Are you?”
Josie’s mind started to kick back into gear, catching up with her body. Other than her neck, everything felt okay. “I’m getting out,” she said.
She undid her seatbelt and tried to open the door, but it was stuck.
Noah said, “The frame bent. You’ll have to get out my side.”
He unlatched his seatbelt and got out, extending a hand inside the car to help pull Josie clear. It was late January, and the weather had been miserable for days. Gray clouds hung low and heavy over the city of Denton, occasionally gracing them with a dusting of snow. On the shoulder of the road, Josie pulled her coat tighter around her and looked up and down the winding mountain road. All they could see were trees and a ribbon of asphalt stretching miles in either direction.
Noah said, “We’re at least three miles from Harper’s Peak.”
“More like five,” Josie told him. She pointed in the direction they’d been headed—back into the city. “Two more miles into town.”
The city of Denton was nestled in a valley in Central Pennsylvania along the banks of the Susquehanna River. Most of its thirty thousand residents lived in the main area of town where neighborhoods were grouped closely together. However, in its entirety, the city spanned twenty-five square miles and encompassed the rural areas all around it. Lonely, winding roads like the one they were on snaked outward from the city proper and into the mountains in every direction.
Josie and Noah walked toward the front of the car where the deer lay on its side, unmoving. There was no visible injury, but Josie knew the impact had likely been enough to kill it. She took a few steps closer, noting that it had no antlers and its abdomen was swollen. “Good God,” she said. “I hope this isn’t a mommy deer.”
Noah drew up closer behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t get too close,” he said. “If she’s still alive and springs up, she could hurt you.”
Josie made no move to walk away. Instead, she stared at the doe, a sadness swirling around her insides, stirring up old feelings best left dormant.
“Josie,” Noah said. “It was an accident.”
“I know,” she said. It certainly wasn’t the first time either of them had hit a deer on the road. In Central Pennsylvania, accidents like this were a given. She wasn’t sure why this one bothered her so much.
“Do you think it’s bad luck?” she blurted, as icy rain began to spit from the sky.
Noah said, “What do you mean?”
She turned to him. Blood gathered in a fat bead along the cut on his forehead and slid down toward his right eye. Again, he swiped at it with his sleeve.
Josie fished a crumpled tissue from her jeans pocket. She slid her free hand around to the back of his head, threading her fingers through his thick, brown hair, and pressed the tissue to his forehead with the other hand, keeping pressure on it. His breath came out in a puff, the cold air making it visible. She said, “We’re on our way home from finalizing our wedding plans, and we hit a deer. Maybe a deer about to have a fawn.”
Noah put his hands on her shoulders and smiled at her. “We’ve had all the bad luck that two people can have already, don’t you think?”
Josie lifted the tissue and saw the bleeding had stopped. Dropping her arms, she looked into his hazel eyes. They had known each other for over seven years, dated for three years, and in that time, hell had been visited upon them both many times over. Maybe he was right.
He took the tissue from her and kissed her forehead. “Don’t read anything into this. With all the times we’ve been back and forth to Harper’s Peak in the last three months, it would be weird if we didn’t hit something.” Again, he glanced up and down the empty road. “I didn’t see any residences or businesses or anything on the way back from Harper’s Peak, though. N
o one we could ask for help.”
Josie took her cell phone from her pocket and tried calling one of her team. Both of them worked for the Denton Police Department, Noah as a lieutenant and Josie as a detective. Josie knew that the other detectives on the force, Gretchen Palmer and Finn Mettner, would come help them at a moment’s notice. “I can’t get any service,” she said. “Let me see your phone.”
He handed it to her. “Try making a hot spot.”
Josie tried making hot spots with both their phones but got nothing. No internet, no service at all. She walked back and forth along the road, holding the phones in the air, trying to get a signal, but there was nothing. They were in a dead zone.
Noah held out his hand for his phone and Josie returned it. “You stay with the car. I’ll walk toward town and keep trying to get a signal. If I get any bars, I’ll call Gretchen or Mettner. If I don’t, I’ll stop at the first house I see and ask to use the landline,” he said.
“I’ll go with you,” said Josie.
“It’s cold,” he said. “It’s starting to sleet. Stay in the car where you’ll be dry and somewhat warm. I can cover two miles in no time.”
Under her coat, her body shivered. The icy rain had turned heavy and wet. Each drop that splattered into her black hair plastered her locks to her head. She looked at the car, longing to get back in. “Do you feel dizzy?” she asked him. “Light-headed?”
Noah laughed softly. “I’m not concussed, if that’s what you’re worried about. Get in the car. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Josie kissed him before climbing back into the driver’s seat. It wasn’t much warmer inside the car now that the engine was off—and now that it had been totaled—but it was wonderfully dry. She watched Noah jog down the road until the sleet against the window blurred him into a dark speck. Then he disappeared.
Again, she tried to get service on her phone, but there was nothing. A few minutes after Noah vanished from the horizon, she heard a noise that made her insides quiver. Josie climbed out of the car and went back to the deer. It lifted its head from the ground and emitted a high-pitched mewling that went right through Josie’s bones.
Agony.
“Shit,” she said, looking around. Everything in her wanted to respond to the sound of the animal’s pain with action. If it were a person, she’d be on the ground rendering aid or at least comfort, but that wasn’t possible. There was no choice but to stand by and listen to the poor doe’s last noises. They were both helpless—animal and woman. Josie hated that feeling more than any other feeling in the world.
By the time she registered the sound of a vehicle approaching behind her, she could barely swallow over the lump in her throat. Turning, she saw an old, white pickup pulling up behind Noah’s car. Its engine idled loudly. At the back of the inside of the truck cab, affixed to a gun rack, was a shotgun. The driver put the four-way emergency blinkers on and hopped out, leaving the gun behind. A woman in her early fifties walked toward Josie. She was taller than Josie and curvy, wearing faded jeans, heavy boots, and a thick rain jacket. Her long, curly brown hair was threaded with gray. Brow furrowed, she said, “You okay, miss?”
Josie motioned toward the deer and explained what had happened.
The woman extended a hand and Josie shook it. “Lorelei Mitchell,” she said.
“Josie Quinn.”
Josie waited for a spark of recognition. She was semi-famous in Denton for having solved some cases that were so shocking, they’d gained national news coverage. Also, her twin sister was a famous journalist. But Lorelei Mitchell only said, “How long ago did your fiancé walk off?”
Josie took her phone out to check the time but realized she didn’t know. She’d been too upset about the deer to keep track of how long it had been. She felt as though she’d been standing alone on the road with the keening animal for hours, but it was probably less than five minutes. “I’m not sure,” she told Lorelei. “Maybe ten, fifteen minutes?”
Lorelei pointed to her truck. “Why don’t you hop in? My place is back less than a half a mile. I get cell service there, believe it or not. I’ve also got a landline you can use to call for help.”
“We didn’t see any houses,” Josie pointed out.
Lorelei smiled. “I know. The driveway’s hidden. I like my privacy.”
“Thank you,” Josie said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather wait for my fiancé.”
“I don’t normally recommend that women get into vehicles with strangers, but I promise you’ll be safe with me,” Lorelei added.
Josie smiled tightly. “I appreciate that, but I can wait.”
Lorelei was quiet long enough for the deer’s cries to fill Josie’s ears again. She went back to her truck. Again, Josie’s attention was drawn to the gun, although she didn’t know why. But Lorelei didn’t even glance at the gun. Instead, she returned with a photo in her hand. An actual photograph on glossy paper. She handed it to Josie. “Those are my girls. They’re eight and twelve. They’re waiting back at the house for me. It’s just us. Hence all the privacy. Got to keep them safe. Come with me. You can meet them, make some calls, and wait in a nice warm, dry house until help comes. I’ll even feed you.”
The deer’s cries had slowed somewhat but they were still loud and piercing. Josie tore her gaze away from its tortured eyes, wanting to look at anything else but the dying animal. She stared at the photograph. Both girls had shoulder-length brown hair. The younger girl’s hair was poker-straight, but the older girl’s was curly like Lorelei’s. “The youngest is Emily,” Lorelei said. “The older one is Holly.”
In the photo, Holly had one arm wrapped protectively around Emily’s shoulder. Emily gave a toothy grin. Holly’s smile was closed-lipped but no less infectious. They wore matching T-shirts with a drawing of a sloth and underneath, the words: My Spirit Animal. Josie gave a little laugh.
“Cute, aren’t they?” Lorelei said with a grin.
Josie was about to hand the photo back when she noticed Holly’s eyelashes. They were completely white.
Lorelei took a step closer and pointed at Holly’s face. “You’re looking at her eyelashes, right?” she said. “It’s okay. Everyone notices. She has poliosis.”
Josie could barely hear over the deer. She looked up at Lorelei. “What?”
“Poliosis. It’s a genetic thing. Harmless. Just the absence of melanin in your hair or eyelashes. She hates it, but I think it makes her look striking.”
Josie gave her the photo. “I’m sorry. I can’t—I can’t concentrate. Yes, let’s go back to the house.”
“Get in,” Lorelei told her.
Josie climbed into the truck and strapped herself in. Lorelei got in and turned the truck around, doing a three-point turn in the middle of the road. They could still hear the suffering deer. Before she pulled away, she put the truck back in park and said, “Hold on.”
Lorelei turned her body, reaching into the back seat and riffling around. Before Josie could ask any questions, she was out of the truck, her shotgun in her hand. Josie twisted in her seat, noticing two boxes of ammunition on the floor in the back. One box was open and a shell was missing. Her fingers punched at the seatbelt release button so she could get out and go after Lorelei.
A gunshot boomed, echoing all around them. The keening stopped. Josie sat completely frozen in her seat. Seconds later, Lorelei got back into the truck. Securing the shotgun to the rack behind their heads, she offered Josie a smile. “I’ll call the game commission when we get to my place.”
“You shot her,” Josie said.
“She was suffering, and no one was going to save her. No one could save her.”
Josie stared at her, open-mouthed.
Lorelei put the truck in drive and pulled back onto the road. “You can’t stop it, you know.”
“Suffering?” Josie said.
Lorelei laughed. “Well, that, too, yes, but I meant death. You can’t stop death.”
One
Three Months L
ater
Josie stared at herself in the full-sized, freestanding mirror, barely recognizing the woman who stared back. She had chosen a simple, strapless wedding dress with a long, lacy train that she could sweep up into a bustle. Her mother Shannon had said it looked like something a Grecian goddess would wear. Josie liked the simplicity and elegance of it, as well as the mobility it allowed her. As a detective for the city of Denton, Pennsylvania, Josie was used to wearing khaki pants and polo shirts. Work never seemed to slow down, and she rarely got to dress up other than for funerals. Pushing that thought out of her mind, she ran her hands down over her hips. This was a happy day.
She turned her head from side to side. Her twin sister, Trinity Payne, a famous journalist who lived in New York City, had brought both a make-up artist and a hair stylist to Denton to work on Josie as well as the members of Josie’s bridal party, which consisted of Trinity, Josie’s friend, Misty Derossi, and Josie’s friend and colleague, Detective Gretchen Palmer. The make-up artist and hairdresser had done a remarkable job. Josie’s black locks had been pulled up and twisted into a chignon. Her skin glowed. Even the thin scar that ran down the right side of her face from her ear to beneath her chin, was almost invisible. The photographer that Trinity had also chosen flitted around her, taking pictures from every angle.
