by Lisa Regan
Josie tried going a different direction. “I know Billy didn’t get patched in to Devil’s Blade. Jack Starkey told me.”
The surprise that flashed across Gretchen’s face was so fleeting that Josie nearly missed it. Josie continued, “But he was close to getting patched in. He had some kind of relationship with Linc Shore, didn’t he?”
Josie waited, and when Gretchen didn’t answer, she said, “What happened between them?”
“How do you know there was something between them?” Gretchen asked, her voice so quiet, Josie strained to hear it.
“Because I know what Linc did for you, and he wouldn’t have done something like that unless he felt somehow beholden to Billy. So what happened?”
More silence. Gretchen looked at Loughlin, who put her hands up. “This is all news to me, and so far, doesn’t seem very relevant to the Omar shooting.”
Shifting in her chair, Gretchen turned back to Josie. “Billy saved his life. It was a long time before Billy died. He’d just been undercover for a few months, as a hang-around, trying to get someone in Devil’s Blade to sponsor him. He was outside a store and Linc pulled up. Some lady in the parking lot had a stroke while she was driving and nearly ran Linc down. Billy saved him.”
“That didn’t get him patched in?” Josie asked.
Gretchen shook her head. “No. Getting patched in isn’t that easy. But Linc never forgot it. He approved it when one of the other guys wanted to sponsor Billy, and every once in a while, he’d give Billy an easy assignment. He couldn’t show favoritism, but Billy swore he never forgot it.”
“Guess he didn’t,” Josie said. “After Billy’s murder, how did you find Linc?”
“He wasn’t hard to find. Those guys always hung around the same bar. Nearly got killed walking in there.”
“Did you tell him you were pregnant?”
It was slow to come, but Gretchen nodded.
“You knew the baby wasn’t Billy’s?”
“No, I didn’t know. I didn’t think it was Billy’s baby because Billy and I hadn’t used any birth control or protection for two years, and I never got pregnant. But then one night…” She drifted off, unable to complete the sentence.
“Did you tell Linc that you thought the baby was the Soul Mate Strangler’s?”
Gretchen nodded. “I didn’t know what to do. I just wanted protection. The police couldn’t do it, couldn’t keep him away from me. I thought he was one of them. I knew that Devil’s Blade could hide me. I heard the stories Billy told me. Serial killer or not, this guy wouldn’t get past them.”
“Whose idea was it to give the baby up for adoption?”
Gretchen licked her lips. “It was Linc’s idea. After the baby came, I knew I couldn’t stay with Devil’s Blade forever. A lot of their people were getting pretty upset with me still being around, even though I was under Linc’s protection. But I couldn’t take the baby back with me. What if he found us? What if he found out the baby was his? I was afraid he’d kill—I was not ready to be a mom. I would have done it, gladly, but I couldn’t be a mom and keep my baby safe from a serial killer. I had no resources, and I couldn’t rely on the kindness of others forever.”
“Why didn’t you just take him back to your grandparents?” Josie asked.
“I was afraid he’d still find us. It was one thing if he found me and he wanted to finish the job, but I knew my child would never be safe if that monster knew he existed. You don’t understand. You don’t know—I thought my mother was evil. He made her look like a saint.”
Josie thought of the Wilkins scene and of her own up-close-and-personal experience with a serial killer. “I think I can understand.”
“I was young,” Gretchen said. “Young and stupid. At the time, it didn’t seem like I had many options. My only goal, the only thing I wanted to do, was protect my child.”
“I believe you,” Josie said.
“That’s why we had to make it look like Devil’s Blade had tortured me and then dumped me off. Word of that would get back to everyone involved in the Strangler case, from the ATF to Seattle PD, and he would hear it too. He would never even know I was pregnant. No one knew. No one ever knew until—”
She stopped speaking. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Until Ethan Robinson and James Omar figured it out. You thought Seth Cole was your son until the day James Omar called you, didn’t you?”
Gretchen nodded, more tears streaming down her face.
“That’s why you took the Shore/Cole murders to heart. Linc had helped you in your time of need, and you believed that Cole was your son,” Josie said.
“I was so mad at Linc. He promised me that they—that my son would go to a normal home with a normal family. He had some court official in some other state on the take who owed him favors. He said she knew people who could help him push an adoption through for a couple who wanted a baby. Money changed hands. I never saw any of it. Was never involved. Didn’t know anything besides what Linc promised me. I didn’t want to know where he was, because I didn’t want that information to ever be able to be tortured out of me.”
“So when you caught the Shore/Cole murders, you found out during the investigation that Cole was adopted—”
“And I assumed he was mine. Why else would he be on the East Coast with Linc? I never had any proof, but I mourned my son, and I put his killers away.”
“And then James Omar called you.”
Gretchen didn’t respond.
“Gretchen, we’ve confirmed that the photo found pinned to Omar’s shirt came from a Soul Mate Strangler crime scene from 2004. We have his DNA. He left a hair in your car, and he killed a couple in Denton and left his DNA there as well.”
This was a bluff, as they still didn’t have the DNA results back, but Josie was confident they would both come back as a match for the Soul Mate Strangler.
Still, Gretchen did not speak.
“I couldn’t figure out what Omar had to do with anything, but we knew he had called you twice, and that the last time he called you, you left the station to go meet him. We knew that he and his roommate had planned something involving you, because their text messages suggested that. We wanted to talk to Omar’s roommate, but Ethan went AWOL right after the shooting. I kept wondering if whatever these kids were up to, was it completely unconnected to the Soul Mate Strangler? Did James Omar just show up at your house at the wrong time? Was it coincidence that he happened to be there at the very moment the Soul Mate Strangler finally tracked you down and came back to finish what he started in 1994?”
Gretchen remained silent.
Josie pushed ahead. “But even if that were true, why would you protect the Soul Mate Strangler? Why would you take the fall for this animal?”
“I’m responsible for James Omar’s death,” Gretchen said.
“You didn’t shoot that boy,” Josie said. “Why are you lying?”
“I’m responsible for his death.”
“The person who pulled the trigger is responsible. I’m trying to help you here, Gretchen.”
“Where’s Ethan?”
“We don’t know.”
Gretchen shut back down. Josie waited several minutes for her to say something, ask a question, anything, but that vacant look had returned.
“Here’s what I think happened,” Josie said. “Ethan found out he was adopted in high school. It’s bothered him ever since. In grad school, he meets James Omar, who is studying epigenetics. Maybe James said, ‘Hey, I can help you track your blood relatives.’ I think somehow, James and Ethan found you first. Not from DNA you submitted to any of these sites, but from DNA your cousins submitted—or some distant relatives. I think between the two of them, Ethan and James were able to find you by extrapolating the family tree of your relatives who have DNA profiles on one of these sites. I think Ethan realized you were a victim of the Soul Mate Strangler. You know, he was obsessed with serial killers even as a young teenager. He majored in criminology. He read books about serial
cases. Did you know there is a book written about the Seattle Soul Mate Strangler?”
Gretchen didn’t answer.
“There is. I looked on a forum devoted to the Soul Mate Strangler case. There’s a thread about the book. I saw it when I went to Omar and Ethan’s apartment. I didn’t know what it was or that it was significant at the time, so last night I called their landlord and asked him to go over there and confirm it was there. So Ethan was already aware of the case. One of the other books in Ethan’s collection? It was about a case that was cold for forty years before police used a DNA ancestry site to track down the killer through his distant relatives. I think he somehow made the connection, and then the two of them started doing the same thing on the other side of his family. I think they found the Soul Mate Strangler, and instead of contacting authorities, they came up with some plan to get mom, dad, and son together like some happy family—or maybe Ethan thought he could give you the closure you needed by showing up with the killer, having you recognize him, and since you’re a police officer now, you could arrest him. You’d get to be your own hero. I’m not sure why Ethan wanted to get you two together, but it’s clear that Ethan knew they were dealing with a cold-blooded killer. He got scared. He and James came up with the idea to send James in Ethan’s place. This way if the guy went batshit crazy, James could say, ‘I’m not your son,’ and buy himself some time because this guy would want his real son.”
Gretchen’s lower lip trembled.
“Except something went wrong. Their plan backfired. Omar told you both he wasn’t really your son, that it was Ethan. The Strangler shot Omar and took you. I don’t know why he let you go. Maybe because he enjoys your terror—you always living in fear of him—maybe he likes to play games. But I think you made a deal with him. It’s the only thing that makes sense. You would plead guilty to Omar’s murder and pretend he wasn’t even there if he left Ethan alone. He’s holding Ethan over your head, and in the time it would take for you to find Ethan and get him into protective custody and then locate and arrest the Strangler, he could kill Ethan. Ethan knows his name, but Ethan’s never met him. Ethan wouldn’t know him if he walked right up to him, which makes this killer even more dangerous to your son. You think the only way to protect him is by keeping your end of this bargain you’ve made with him. You don’t think you have a choice.”
More tears streamed down Gretchen’s face.
“He doesn’t have Ethan,” Josie told her. “Ethan is in the wind. No one even knows where to look for him—not the police, not his friends at school, not his dad. No one. The Strangler isn’t going to find him.”
No relief spread across Gretchen’s face. She didn’t believe Josie. Or, she didn’t believe that Ethan was safe.
“I’m going after the Strangler, Gretchen. I can leave Omar out of it for now—until we get him, and Ethan is found safe—but he killed a couple in Denton, and he needs to go down for that.”
“Please don’t,” Gretchen whimpered.
Josie’s heart sank. “I will get him. No one else will be hurt.”
“How?” Gretchen asked. “How will you get him? He’s a ghost. I don’t even know who he is—I saw his face and I don’t know who he is.”
“Ethan knows who he is—Ethan and James located him.”
“You just said Ethan was missing,” Gretchen pointed out.
“Then we put Ethan’s photo out in the press and ask for help locating him. In the meantime, you’ll give us a composite,” Josie said.
“I can’t. I can’t do that. You can’t expose Ethan like that. The killer will always be one step ahead of us.” She leaned toward Josie, lowering her voice. “I think he’s one of us.”
“An officer?” Josie said. “Starkey told me that both of you thought that. But Gretchen, he’s not an officer on our payroll. You know that.”
“It’s too risky,” Gretchen said. “Please. Don’t put my son at risk.”
Josie held up a hand. “Okay, fine. Forget Ethan. You give us the composite. We’ll say a witness saw him near the Wilkins scene.”
Gretchen shook her head. “I can’t. He’ll know. He’ll know it was me. Please.”
Loughlin said, “If you don’t help us, you can be charged with obstruction of justice.”
Josie said, “Gretchen, we have to go after this guy. Do you really think he’s going to keep his end of this bargain? He’s a killer. Do you really think that he’s just going to stop killing?”
“Do not do this,” Gretchen said.
Josie stood up. “I have to do my job, Gretchen. Help. Don’t help. I’m going after him.”
She waited another tense moment, but Gretchen offered nothing. Finally, Loughlin sighed and stood, walking toward the door. Josie turned to follow. She heard the sound of Gretchen’s chair scraping the tile, but before she had a chance to turn back, Gretchen’s hands were on her shoulders. Josie barely had time to get her own hands up to protect her face as Gretchen slammed her into the wall. Josie pushed back, scrambling to try to get out of Gretchen’s grasp. She heard shouting behind them, and within seconds, Loughlin, Bowen, and a guard were dragging Gretchen off. But not before Gretchen spoke into Josie’s ear, her voice desperate and urgent.
She said, “I just need more time. Just a little more time.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Josie sat in the county jail infirmary with an unused ice pack next to her on the gurney. Noah leaned against the wall across from her, arms crossed, as they waited for the doctor.
“This is ridiculous,” Josie said. “I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head.”
“Just let the doctor have a look at you,” he said.
“I’m not injured,” Josie said. “She didn’t injure me. It was an accident.”
Noah laughed. “She accidentally pushed your face into the wall?”
“She didn’t push my face into the wall. I didn’t hit anything. I don’t want her punished in any way.”
“She’s already in solitary. Now she’ll just have to be chained when she has visitors.”
Loughlin breezed in behind the doctor. As the doctor shined a small flashlight into Josie’s eyes, Loughlin said, “She’s not going to give you a composite.”
“No shit,” Josie said. The doctor asked her a series of questions, which she answered as quickly as she could. Finally, she was cleared to go.
The three detectives walked out to the parking lot together. Noah and Loughlin discussed the day’s revelations while Josie’s mind kept returning to the words Gretchen had hissed into her ear.
More time for what?
She waited until she was alone in the car with Noah to tell him what Gretchen had said, but he couldn’t make sense of it either. “We should go back and ask her,” he said. “Ask Bowen to ask her.”
“No,” Josie said. “She obviously only wanted me to hear, or she would have just said it in front of Loughlin. That was meant only for me.”
“And you’re telling me.”
She swatted at his shoulder. “I need you to help me figure this out.”
“Well, I don’t know what she needs more time for. She’s sitting in jail.”
Josie’s cell phone rang. She took one look at it and groaned. “It’s Chitwood,” she told Noah. She pressed answer and barked, “Quinn.”
His scratchy voice was just as loud over the phone as it was in person. “Quinn, you got your DNA match from the Wilkins scene. Nothing on your hair from Gretchen’s car yet. The Wilkins DNA came up in the federal database as a match for this Strangler from Seattle. So, good work. Now get your ass in here, because we have to give a press conference, and seeing as this guy is a lady-hater, I think you should be the one to do it. That’ll really get under his skin.”
He hung up before she could say anything.
Noah said, “I heard every word. I can’t figure out which part of that was the weirdest: when he said you did a good job, when he said, ‘lady-hater,’ or him suggesting that you try to get under the skin of a serial killer.”
Josie laughed, then Noah laughed, and then she laughed some more. It felt so good after the week they’d been having.
But in just a few minutes, all the levity in the vehicle leached away. They still had a murderer to catch.
“You know,” Noah said, sensing the shift in mood, “I think Gretchen’s going to get that time she wants.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, does it make sense to have a press conference when we have absolutely zero leads? So we tell the public that this serial killer everyone thought was dead has struck here instead of his old hunting ground, fourteen years after his last-known murder. So what? Then he knows we know it’s him. We still don’t know who he is.”
Josie groaned. “You’re right. I’m not sure we should tell the world without having solid leads. He can just go back underground. No one will ever see him again.”
“Unless we find Ethan. Ethan knows who he is—Ethan and James found him,” Noah said.
“Yes, but I think all the research they did is on Ethan’s computer, which he has with him. That doesn’t help us.”
“Okay, well Gretchen thinks the killer is Seattle PD. Can we track down any members out there who either moved East or are on vacation right now?” Noah suggested.
“We can,” Josie said. “And we might have no choice but to do it that way, but if this guy is really in law enforcement, I’m not sure we should risk alerting him before we have a better handle on this situation. We make one phone call to Seattle PD, this guy finds out what’s going on, and he’s gone. Although…”
“What is it?”
“If this guy was law enforcement, his DNA would be in some database somewhere. They would have matched it by now.”
“True.”
“So maybe he’s not. I need to have a look at the case materials again,” Josie said.
Noah slowed the vehicle. Josie looked around and realized they were only a few blocks from the station house.
“What is this?” Noah muttered as they pulled to a stop behind a snarl of traffic. Ahead of them, patrol cars and an ambulance blocked one half of the residential street. Josie could see patrol officers loitering outside of a house.
