by Staci Hart
He stopped when a low, rough voice said, “Landreaux?”
Jon smelled roses as he looked up to the landing, confused when his eyes met Hank Campbell’s. “Mr. Campbell?”
Hank slipped his hands into his pocket and descended a couple of steps. “If you came for Josie, she’s not here.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t hide his disappointment.
Hank glanced back over his shoulder. “We must have just missed her. Her phone is in there too, damn her. I can hear it ringing.”
“She left her phone?” Jon was shocked at the thought.
“Yeah. She was a little upset when I left a bit ago, but I have a feeling I know where she is.”
Jon’s brow dropped. “What happened?”
“I shouldn’t tell you anything, you know.”
“I get that a lot from the Campbells.”
“Can you blame us?”
“No, I don’t suppose I can.”
Hank looked Jon over and folded his arms. “I know what happened between you and my daughter, and I’ll tell you that from my end, and off the record, I think she’s in the wrong. I know how much she cares about you. She needs a friend, and she needs someone to watch her back. Can I trust you to do that?”
“Yessir, I can try. It really all depends on Josie.”
He shifted, and his face was tight with worry. “How much do you know about Anne’s death?”
“I know they were looking for a missing girl, and I know that Jo suspects that a man by the name of Corey Rhodes killed Anne, Hannah, and a number of other girls, mostly prostitutes.”
“She tell you all that?” Hank didn’t look like he believed it.
Jon smirked. “In a way.”
“Josie found Anne’s necklace two days ago stuck in her window rail, and it had his fingerprint on it. She lifted it and got a match off of a can in Rhodes’ garbage.”
“Holy shit.” Jon reached for the handrail and gripped it tight.
Hank nodded. “Except after we brought him in yesterday, he lawyered up, left the station, and disappeared.”
“Son of a bitch,” Jon whispered.
“I came back, since I couldn’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t have left her alone after dropping that kind of news, but she was already gone. I can’t really go looking for her right now. I’ve got to get back to the station, but I think I know where she is.”
“All right. What can I do?”
“First, I need to know something. Why didn’t you say goodbye to her?’
“I tried. I told her everything in a letter, but she never got it. I couldn’t say it out loud, and I know what that makes me, but if I could do it over again …”
Hank’s hard face softened by a degree. “You hurt her again, and I’ll gut you.”
“Understood,” Jon said, relieved and surprised that he’d gotten Hank Cambell’s blessing in Josie’s stairwell. “We’ll see if I’ve got a chance.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure you do, if you can make it past the firing squad.” Hank answered, amused. “ Josie always shoots when she’s upset, and she’s a member at the Westside range. If I was a betting man, I’d put my money on her being there.”
“Yessir, I recall that she’s a member. So am I, and we’ve bumped into each other there before, so I’m certain I can get by without making her suspicious.”
“That’s appreciated. She’d flay me if she knew I’d spoken to you.”
“And then you’d flay me.”
“I don’t care what anyone else says about you, kid. You’re all right,” Hank fired back with twinkling eyes.
The corner of Jon’s mouth lifted. “Thanks, Mr. Campbell.”
“Call me Hank, and don’t make me regret any of this,” he said as he made his way down the stairs, and Jon followed.
“Yes, sir.”
The two men parted ways at the sidewalk with the invitation for Jon to contact Hank if he needed anything. Jon finally had a partner, an in, even though the game had changed. The evidence board didn’t matter. Connecting Rhodes to the murders was moot. They had to find him, and the slate was all of a sudden wiped clean.
Jon walked the few blocks to Times Square so fast it was more of a slow jog as his thoughts whirled around his head. He pictured Josie finding the necklace, and his heart ached. She’d found a way to pin him, and then he escaped. Jon couldn’t even imagine what was going through her head, what she’d been through since he’d seen her last, and wished again he had been able to be there for her. He had missed so much.
He trotted down the steps of the subway station and caught the train, unable to even sit down. He was nervous as hell, and as he entered the Westside Firing Range, he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs and stuck them in his jacket pocket.
Jon signed in and made his way to the range. When he walked through the threshold to the long hall of stalls, his heart skipped a beat, then started again like a hammer as he walked toward her.
Josie stood in the aisle, her long legs in black running shorts, her hair back in a ponytail. Her eyes, behind safety glasses were trained down the range, and her body was tight. The light cast shadows on the gentle slopes that her biceps made as she fired, not stopping between shots. She was so tense, she looked like she would snap and shatter.
She didn’t register him when he stopped near her, not until she lowered her arms and dropped her magazine. When she caught him out of her periphery, she turned to him with pain and shock written all over her. She flipped off her ear protectors.
“What in the actual fuck are you doing here?”
He played it off like it was accidental, smiling at her with an aching chest. “This is the only firing range in Manhattan, and I’m a member, same as you. Is it really all that crazy that I’d see you here?”
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” She reached into the box of ammo in front of her and slid the bullets into the empty magazine one by one. Jon didn’t miss that her hands trembled as she popped them in. “This is like some sick joke.”
“You okay, Josie?”
She couldn’t even look at him, couldn’t believe that of all days, of all times, that he would walk in right then. She couldn’t go one day without him showing up, and that day, in that moment, there was no way she could deal with him. “No, I am not fucking okay.” Her voice wavered as she slammed the magazine into her pistol and picked up an empty one to load it.
Josie could feel him, even though he was several feet away, could feel his sadness and worry as he watched her in silence. When she couldn’t stand the quiet anymore, she unloaded.
“Rhodes is gone. He’s fucking gone because I found his fingerprint and Dad brought him in. Anne’s necklace has been in my apartment this whole time. The entire time. It was right there.” She slapped the magazine down on the counter, though her hand didn’t move from over it as she leaned over the surface and closed her eyes. “He’s gone, and now I have to find him.”
“I’m sorry.” His words were heavy with concern.
“It’s not your fault.” She opened her eyes and picked up the last empty magazine, keeping her attention on her hands.
“I’m sorry all the same.”
“Jon, please don’t ask to help me again. I can’t fucking handle you right now.” She finally looked at him, but her jaw was tight, and she hoped the warning was clear.
“I’d already decided not to. You know I’m here. But I did want to tell you that I believe you’re right about Rhodes and the girls he’s killed.”
“Oh, did you find that out when you broke into my apartment?”
“I did. I’ve been staring at a replica of your wall for days, and I think you’re right. I don’t have all the cards, though, not that it matters anymore. I want to help, you know I do, but I’ll stay out of your way, I swear. And if you need backup, I’m there.”
She shook her head. Of all of the people in all of the world, he might be one of the last who she’d ask for help, who she would ever trust.
“I
care more than anybody, and you know it. I don’t doubt that you can figure this out because you’re the most capable woman I’ve ever known. I saw what you did with the evidence wall, and it’s one of the smartest, sexiest, most terrifying things I’ve ever seen. I know you can do this on your own. But if you need eyes, I’m always here.”
“Yeah-fucking-right.” Josie raised her gun and fired through another round as he turned and walked away. Her ears rang with each shot, her eyes burning as she emptied the chamber and dropped her arms, laying her palms on the counter surface once he was gone and could no longer see her cry.
Jon felt like he’d aged ten years and was wearing lead boots as he dragged himself to the subway. As he rode home, he replayed the strange morning, feeling the gravity of all that he’d learned, hoping with every piece of his heart that she would come around. But in the meantime, he had work to do. He wasn’t helpless, and no one could stop him from digging on his own, which was exactly what he planned to do.
It was just after dusk that evening, and Josie shifted on her aching feet from the porch of one of Rhodes’ neighbors, who apologized for not having more information before she closed her door. Josie turned and walked down the steps. She had spoken to anyone who would listen as she waited for the police team to leave Rhodes’ house. No one had seen or heard anything.
It was the worst kind of tired, like nothing mattered enough to stop you from curling up wherever you were, closing your eyes, and sleeping forever. She had no new information, and neither did Hank. There was only one thing left on her list for the day: break into his house.
Josie walked down the block and to the alley, stopping by her car to grab her gloves and picks before making her way up his driveway, sneaking into his back gate and closing it behind her quietly, ignoring the police tape. It wasn’t the first time she’d broken into his house, though she’d never been there at night. It was eerily quiet as she unrolled her leather pick case and pulled on her gloves.
She looked around the door for a tamper seal, but there was nothing. Hank said they hadn’t found anything other than his fingerprints, which were a match to the one on Anne’s necklace. He had been raised from potential suspect to wanted man, but nothing in his home connected him with any other murders or indicated where he’d gone. Josie wasn’t convinced that she would fare any better., but she had to do it. Had to see for herself.
Josie turned on her flashlight, gripping it between her teeth to illuminate the lock as she slipped her picks in, twisting and wiggling them, smiling when she heard the click. Her gloved hand wrapped around the knob and pushed, and the door swung open into the dark kitchen. She gathered her things and stepped across the threshold, closing the door behind her with a soft snick.
The only light in the silent house was the small beam from her flashlight as it swept the room.
“Where to start?” she whispered to herself.
The quiet house was neat and tidy, everything dusted and symmetric, which always creeped her out. In the living room, two love seats faced each other. His TV hung on the wall, flanked by two paintings of a landscape, almost identical. She thumbed through the contents of his built-in bookshelves, noting all of the generic reading material, classics that people were ‘supposed’ to read and have enjoyed, lest they become social lepers, and she wondered if he’d read a single one. The spines were perfect.
As she climbed the stairs, she noticed that nothing seemed out of place. There were no signs of a hasty exit throughout the house, strangely not even in his bedroom where the bed was neatly made and topped with throw pillows, the drawers all buttoned up tight. Josie opened them anyway, and though they were almost bare, everything left was folded in rows. She rummaged through his nightstand, looking for any papers he may have scribbled a note on, but found nothing.
Artemis looked in as Josie walked into Rhodes’ office and sat down to go through his desk drawers. When she opened the long, middle drawer, Artemis thought of the business card, and it appeared in a corner where Josie wasn’t looking as she sorted through rubber bands and paperclips. The name and information of the man who helped Rhodes get away were printed on it, and Artemis sat back, smiling. Josie would find him, and she’d be on her way after Rhodes in no time.
Dita gasped when she saw it, recognizing the man’s name instantly. “Oh my gods, Perry. Look at that.”
“Get rid of it! Dammit, hurry!” She slapped Dita on the arm.
“Good gods.” Dita huffed, and the card disappeared just as Josie turned her attention deeper in the drawer where the card had been. Dita sat back on her couch. “That was close. She never would have accepted Jon’s help if she’d found it, and my plans would have been fucked sideways.”
“Crisis averted.”
“For now,” Dita said with an eyebrow up.
Josie smelled roses and looked up, baffled, and glanced around, certain that Rhodes wasn’t the type to keep flowers in his home, but she shook her head and turned back to the drawer. She felt around the base as she always did, looking for false bottoms. Just once she wished she would find one, just for novelty’s sake, but she was pretty sure Ikea didn’t make furniture with secret panels.
She leaned back in the office chair and looked around the room, wondering how long before he’d sat in that spot, what he had been thinking. Where he would go.
Earlier that day, Josie called in a favor to a friend who worked at a big bank chain where Rhodes had an account. Off the record, no large amount of cash had been withdrawn, though he’d been steadily pulling out several hundred dollars at a time ever since Anne was killed. And with that, she knew. He’d planned on leaving all along. Her job was infinitely more difficult with that knowledge. He wouldn’t have slipped up, not with time to prepare.
So the question was, where did he go? There were so many things he needed to be able to disappear, including a new identity and a car, since his was still in his driveway. He wouldn’t go where anyone would recognize him, so the New York City area was out, as was Boston and Montana. He could be anywhere else.
She wondered how deep he’d gone in getting new identification and guessed it would be all the way, as meticulous as he’d been to that point. He would have needed a connection, some way to get fake IDs. But Rhodes had no one to trust. He was antisocial and reclusive, and she didn’t believe he would clue anyone in who could be linked back to him. He would have been more likely to seek out someone sketchy in a seedy bar under an alias than to ever discuss something so direct with anyone he knew.
She’d stop by and talk to his coworkers for good measure, but she didn’t suspect she’d find much. He was smarter than that, had been getting away with literal murder for thirty years. Her only other idea was to paper junk yards with flyers, hope someone remembered him, and pray that he hadn’t bought his getaway car off Craigslist.
Dread crept into her stomach as she realized that she may never find him. There may be no justice, no closure. It may never be over, and she didn’t know how she could move on.
She pushed the thought away and stood, looking over the room a final time before she made her way back downstairs and through his kitchen to descend the stairs of his basement.
Josie swept her small light around the cold, dark room, and a shiver rolled down her spine. She fought the urge to turn and run back up the stairs, and had to force her legs to move her through the room.
A weight bench and elliptical were the prominent decor, as well as a rack of free weights. The only other items in the room were an old couch and coffee table that sat in the nook created by the stairs. She’d been in the basement before but never really paid attention to the contents, always in a hurry. As she walked over to the couch, she couldn’t stop thinking how odd it was that the couch was there when the room was so sparse.
The crawl space opening was blocked by cardboard boxes, and she knelt down to move them out of the way. She shined her flashlight inside. Something had been hidden there. She could see the square in the dust on the ground wher
e it rested and drag marks where it had been pulled out. Her mind flashed with the possibilities of what it might have been as she stared inside. It almost killed her not to know.
She stood and turned as she let out a breath, looking over the basement with a cold hollow in her chest. She was standing in the room where he killed them. Somehow, she knew. He would bring them to that room and murder them, and their last moments would have been filled with the rafters and naked lightbulbs, the cold concrete underneath them and Rhodes’ face above, the smell of the musty basement in their noses as they took their last breaths. He would kill them, wrap them up, and take them away, drop them in the river to be forgotten.
But Josie would never forget.
———— Olympus ————
“I actually hated to not let Josie find that card.” Dita sank into her overstuffed couch and tugged her throw to lay it on her legs.
“I know, but damn. That would have been a disaster.” Perry pulled her black hair out of the knot it was tied in and shook it out with her fingers.
“I still cannot believe that Artemis fucking did all of this.”
“Maybe Artemis does know something you don’t. Maybe Josie has some psychic superpower.”
“You know good and well she doesn’t. But if Jon can find something before Josie does—”
“He could take that to her—”
Dita nodded. “And she’d let him help. She’s going to go after Rhodes, but I’d feel loads better if Jon went with her.”
“Well, you’d definitely have a better chance at winning.”
“What?” Dita wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be asinine. That is seriously the last thing I’m worried about right now.”
Perry raised an eyebrow.
“Maybe not the last thing, but it’s not on level with keeping them safe, not even close. Rhodes is dangerous, and if Josie’s on her own with him …”
