Her Deadly Touch: An absolutely addictive crime thriller and mystery novel (Detective Josie Quinn Book 12)

by Lisa Regan

  “He does,” Gretchen agreed. “A little obsessed with his wife. Then again, they lost their son. For some couples, the loss of a child can destroy a marriage but for others, it can bring them closer. Maybe he and Mrs. Palazzo clung to each other. Maybe the experience changed their dynamic.”

  “Yeah,” Josie conceded. “If I’d lost my son, I’d be pretty freaked out if my spouse disappeared. I don’t think we’re looking for a stalker, though.”

  Gretchen sighed. “No, not in the sense that he’s thinking.”

  “The bus crash is the connection,” Josie said. “The support group.”

  “I agree. We should check with Dr. Rosetti to see if she’s heard from Faye.”

  “We still need to talk to Gloria Cammack’s employees about the parts of her alibi that can be verified between the time that Krystal Duncan went missing and when she was found dead,” Josie pointed out.

  The work was stacking up.

  Gretchen said, “I’m going to have Mett do that. I’ll call him now. Why don’t you take my car and head over to Dr. Rosetti’s place? See what you can find out. We’ll regroup later at the station. I’ll have one of the patrol units drive me back.”

  Josie used her cell phone to call Dr. Rosetti and make sure she was available before taking Gretchen’s vehicle. The doctor’s sessions were over for the day by the time Josie arrived just after five p.m. Paige had told her to use the gate at the side of the house and meet in the garden. Josie made her way through the large wooden privacy gate and into the space she had only seen from the therapy room until now. It was even more lush and gorgeous in person. Paige was dressed in a pair of old khaki capri pants and a UPenn T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back off her neck as she knelt in the grass and pulled weeds from one of the flower beds, depositing them into a canvas bucket next to her.

  She looked up and smiled at Josie, waving a hand covered in a thick, pink gardening glove. “Have a seat,” she said.

  Josie turned to see a stone bench beneath the window of the therapy room, across from Paige. She sat and watched Paige work for a few moments. The day was still hot but here in the garden there was a gentle breeze. The sounds of birds chirping, and the heady smell of flowers were soothing.

  As if reading her mind, Paige said, “I like to come out here at the end of the day to decompress. Sometimes I just sit and enjoy the space and sometimes I work.”

  “It’s wonderful,” said Josie.

  “You said you needed to talk to me about police business. I assume it must have to do with Krystal Duncan. You’ve probably discovered that she was one of my patients. I run a support group for the parents of the West Denton crash.”

  “Yes,” Josie said. “Actually, I’m not here about Krystal. I’m here about Faye Palazzo.”

  Paige’s hands froze in the dirt. When she turned to look at Josie, her eyes were wide with fear. “Has something happened? Is Faye all right?”

  “She’s missing,” Josie said.

  Paige removed her hands from the dirt and took off her gloves. She stood, brushed off her pants and came to sit beside Josie. “Can you tell me more?”

  Leaving the part about the earrings out, Josie recounted what Sebastian had told them. Then she asked, “Have you heard from her today?”

  Paige shook her head. “No.”

  “You’ve seen her privately and in the support group for a couple of years now. Do you have any thoughts as to where she might have gone or who she would have turned to?”

  “You know I cannot violate the privacy of my patients, Josie.”

  “I understand that. If we believed she was in danger, would you be able to break your oath?”

  “You think she’s in danger?”

  “Her husband believes she was taken by someone, possibly a stalker. We have no reason not to believe him. Did Faye ever talk to you about being stalked?”

  Paige shook her head. “I’m only answering this because if she is truly in danger, I want to be helpful. No, the subject of stalkers never came up. Not in private sessions or in the group.”

  “How did she seem the last time you saw her?” Josie asked. “Did she seem more depressed than normal?”

  Paige frowned, looking at her lap. “They’re all more depressed, Josie. I can say this to you because it’s public knowledge: the trial of the bus driver is on the horizon. Something like that creates a great deal of stress for the family members of victims. Not only are you asked to relive your trauma, but it can be frustrating that a trial is occurring at all.”

  “You mean because the evidence showed that Virgil Lesko was drunk, so why has he pled not guilty? Why force a trial?”

  “Exactly. It’s hard to explain to someone in the throes of grief and loss that there are legal nuances at work and that he is entitled to a defense no matter what. Faye seemed perhaps more stressed than usual, but if I thought she was a danger to herself I would have had her hospitalized. I do not believe she was at that point.”

  “I know you can’t violate confidentiality, but we believe that Krystal’s murder and Faye’s disappearance may be linked. Can you think of anyone who might want to hurt the members of your group?”

  Paige took a moment to consider this. Together, they watched an eastern bluebird flit back and forth on some low-hanging tree branches near the back of the garden. Then Paige said, “No, I’m sorry. I can’t think of anyone. At least, there was never any discussion in the group or in any private sessions that I had about any threats. Obviously, if I had been told about any potential threat, I would have encouraged them to bring that to the police. Josie, these people are just grieving parents, nothing more.”

  “A couple of people have said that there was tension in the group between Krystal and the others because she had met with Virgil Lesko in jail.”

  Paige waved a hand in the air. “That had blown over. The other members were upset initially, but by the next week no one was even talking about it.”

  “I understand that Krystal was very upset at her last meeting. That she became very angry at the other group members and that she said that Bianca wasn’t even supposed to be on the bus that day. Do you know what was behind her outburst?”

  Paige stood and went back to the garden bed. She knelt down but made no move to put her gloves back on. She seemed to be considering something. She said, “I don’t think it has anything to do with her murder.”

  Josie said, “That’s the thing about solving murders. What might not seem important could be the thing that cracks the case. That’s why you have to get as much information as possible. Why don’t you tell me and let me decide whether it’s helpful or not? Krystal is no longer with us so you’re not violating her privacy.”

  Paige looked down where her hands rested in her lap. She sighed. “Krystal was extremely upset when she left her last group meeting. I felt compelled to check on her, so I called her at work the next day. She came in for a short session during her break. She apologized for getting so angry and yelling. I asked why she was so angry. She told me she couldn’t say, so I prompted her by asking what she meant when she said Bianca wasn’t even supposed to be on the bus that day. She tried to avoid the question at first, but finally said she’d been finding out about a lot of things lately—”

  “Meaning what?” interrupted Josie. “What things?”

  “I don’t know,” said Paige. “She didn’t say. The only thing she told me was that on the day of the bus crash, she’d made arrangements for Nathan to pick up his children and Bianca fifteen minutes early from school. Evidently, Bianca and one of the Cammack children had orthodontist appointments at the same time, and Nathan had agreed to take them so that Krystal wouldn’t have to leave early from work that day.”

  “But the kids were on the bus,” Josie said.

  Paige nodded sadly. “Yes. Nathan texted Krystal right before he was supposed to leave work and told her that the orthodontist had canceled all afternoon appointments, and he was stuck at work anyway.”

  Josie said, �
��Krystal must have agreed at that point for Bianca to take the bus just like every other day. Why, two years later, did she feel as though Bianca shouldn’t have been on the bus? Had she intended to leave work to get her?”

  “I don’t know if I should tell you this as it involves one of the other parents,” Paige said.

  “Did you talk to that other parent about this? Whatever it is?”

  Paige shook her head. “No. Krystal told me. I didn’t try to verify it. I saw no reason to. It changes nothing.”

  “If it came from Krystal, you’re hardly violating anyone else’s privacy,” Josie pointed out.

  “But, Josie, I’m sure this isn’t important. None of these things are important. That’s the thing that Krystal struggled with—that many, if not all, people grieving struggle with. You know this yourself. All those tiny, seemingly meaningless decisions that we made on the day that our loved one was taken from us, we can go over them in our heads ad nauseam, but it changes nothing. Whether Krystal decided to wear a red skirt or a blue skirt that morning—Bianca is still dead.”

  Josie felt something shift inside her. An image of Lisette pushing her walker through grass toward the edge of the woods came unbidden into her mind. “There’s a big difference between wondering if the color clothes I wore the day my grandmother was murdered would have saved her and wondering if I should have told her to stay away from the woods and go back to the hotel. If I had just told her to go back to the hotel, she would be alive.”

  “But you didn’t,” Paige said.

  Josie felt as though she’d knocked the wind out of her. An avalanche of feeling crashed down on Josie’s shoulders. Her body buckled. Her lungs fought for breath that wouldn’t come. Suddenly, Paige was beside her again. Her hands were on Josie’s shoulders. “It’s just pain,” Paige told her. “Breathe.”

  Josie opened her mouth to say that she couldn’t breathe, but only a strangled cry burst forth.

  Paige rubbed one hand in a circle on Josie’s back. “Don’t fight it, Josie.”

  I can’t, she wanted to say. I can’t not fight.

  Paige kept talking. “Don’t you see, Josie? All day, every day, we make these decisions, and we make them from a place that assumes that the world is reasonably safe. We make risk assessments all day long, and those assessments are based on experience and expectations that don’t necessarily involve murderers or drunk drivers. When you walked with your grandmother to the edge of those woods to find the spot where a little girl had wandered off, why in heavens would you assume that a killer would be waiting on the other side and that he would fire a gun at you and your grandmother? You didn’t let your grandmother die. Someone killed her. When Bianca had to take the bus the day of the crash rather than going to the orthodontist with the Cammacks, Krystal had every reasonable expectation that she would arrive home safely just like she had every other day of school for her entire life. Krystal didn’t let Bianca die. The bus driver got drunk and chose to drive his route anyway. If Only is a dangerous game, Josie. A dangerous, pointless game, and it changes nothing. If Krystal had gotten drunk and driven with her daughter in the car, and Bianca had been killed that way, well, yes, Krystal would have had a lot of work to do in terms of forgiving herself and moving on. But it wasn’t her fault, just like Lisette’s murder wasn’t your fault.”

  Josie finally gulped in a full breath. The scenarios weren’t the same—Josie and Lisette, Krystal and Bianca—and Josie wasn’t sure she would ever convince herself that she was blameless for what happened to Lisette. Now her grandmother was gone, and all Josie had left was this crush of feeling that was so heavy and so excruciating that it didn’t seem possible to physically survive it. Was this how Krystal had felt? Had it been magnified because Krystal had lost her child and not a grandparent?

  “What did she tell you?” Josie huffed. “What did Krystal say that you don’t want to reveal?”

  Paige’s hand still moved in a circle on Josie’s upper back. Josie kept her upper body folded, afraid she might throw up if she tried to sit up straight. Paige said, “Nathan lied. The orthodontist didn’t cancel his afternoon appointments. The kids were a no-show.”

  “Why would he lie?” Josie asked.

  She felt Paige shrug. “I have no idea.”

  “How did Krystal find out? Wouldn’t this have been something she would have found out soon after the crash?” Josie asked, feeling the nausea in her stomach settle.

  Paige said, “I really don’t know, Josie. All I can tell you is what Krystal said. She said that she had just found out that Nathan had lied about the orthodontist and apparently about being stuck at work as well. She said he went home—without even picking up his children from school—to be with Gloria.”

  “But why?” Josie wondered out loud.

  Paige sighed. “I imagine that’s between Nathan and Gloria. I’m sure they have a great deal of guilt over it. It’s not my place to speculate. If one or both of them wants to avail themselves of my services to discuss it, I would be happy to try and help but other than that, there isn’t much I can say.”

  Josie finally sat up straight. Paige put her hands into her own lap. “How do you feel?” she asked Josie.

  “Like someone put me in a trash compactor and didn’t finish the job,” Josie admitted.

  Paige laughed.

  Josie said, “Krystal must have been furious with Nathan. Why didn’t she confront him?” Or had she confronted him, but he’d conveniently left that part out? “Did she tell you whether she had or not? Or whether she was going to?”

  Paige shook her head. “She told me she had not discussed it with him. I don’t know if she intended to or not.”

  In her pocket, Josie’s phone trilled. “I’m sorry,” she said as she looked at the screen. “This is my colleague. I’ve got to take it.” She swiped answer. “Mett? What’s going on?”

  Detective Finn Mettner’s voice sounded strained. In the background, Josie could hear a man yelling. “Boss?” he said. “Could you come over to the All Natural Family and Child store? We’ve got a situation here.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gloria Cammack’s store was housed in a converted auto repair shop close to central Denton. One half of it was filled with retail items for local shoppers and the other half looked as though it was being used as a shipping hub where employees packaged products and sent them out to customers and clients all over the country. A second-floor addition had been added at some point and as Josie pulled into the parking lot in front of the store, she saw Gloria Cammack standing in its window, staring down at the street below. Her arms were folded over her chest and a scowl covered her face.

  A patrol vehicle sat across two parking spots, its lights flashing. Two uniformed officers and Detective Mettner stood about five feet away from the entrance to the retail store, surrounding Nathan Cammack. As Josie got out of her vehicle, she saw that Nathan was pacing in a tight circle, hands fisted at his sides. His shaggy hair was in disarray. Teeth gritted, he said, “I just want to see my fucking wife!” He shouted the last two words, loudly enough to startle a customer emerging from the store.

  Mettner said, “Mr. Cammack, I’ve asked you to calm down twice already. Mrs. Cammack doesn’t want to speak with you. She’s asked us to remove you from the premises. I think it would be best for everyone if you left of your own accord.”

  One of the uniformed officers said, “And that doesn’t mean stepping off the pavement into the street. It means go home and cool off.”

  “One conversation,” Nathan said, addressing Mettner. “She can’t have one conversation with me?”

  He tried to step past them but Mettner put his hand on Nathan’s chest. “She doesn’t want to talk right now. She’s made that clear.”

  Josie joined the fray. “Mr. Cammack?”

  “You!” he said. “I talked to you this morning. You know what’s going on. I need to talk to my wife. I need to tell her that Krystal lied.”

  It was then Josie smelled t
he alcohol on his breath. “Mr. Cammack—Nathan—Gloria is your ex-wife, and if she doesn’t wish to speak with you, I’m afraid there’s nothing that we can do about that.”

  Mettner said, “I was finishing up with the employee interviews and he showed up here like this. Ambushed Mrs. Cammack in her office—”

  Nathan threw his hands in the air. “I didn’t ambush her. Come on, man. She’s my wife.”

  Mettner continued as if Nathan hadn’t spoken. “She called 911 while I was in the building trying to get him out.”

  “You have no right!” Nathan hollered. “You can’t kick me out of here! I have every right to be here.”

  Josie said, “Nathan, I really don’t want to see you hauled away from here in the back of a patrol car. Why don’t you come with me? We’ll go get some coffee and we can talk. I’ve got more questions for you anyway.”

  He seemed to consider this for a moment. Then his lips firmed into a thin, straight line, and he tried to push past them. Mettner and Josie held him back. Mettner said, “Take him down to the station.”

  As the uniformed officers approached, he began yelling. “Get out of my way! I’m going to see my wife, and you can’t stop me! I want to talk to my wife!”

  From over her shoulder, Josie heard Gloria’s voice cut through. “I’m not your wife anymore, Nathan.”

  He stopped struggling against Josie and Mettner and craned his neck to see Gloria better. She stood four feet away in her high heels and sharp pantsuit, arms crossed over her stomach. A Bluetooth was affixed to her ear. “Go home, Nathan,” she told him. “We have nothing to say to one another.”

  “Krystal lied,” he blurted out. “We never had an affair.”

  For a split second, Gloria’s scowl loosened, replaced by a look of shock and dismay. She quickly regained her composure. With a heavy sigh, she said, “I don’t care, Nathan. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore.”

  “It matters to me,” he said. “When we were a family, I was faithful to you and the kids.”