by Lisa Regan
“Did he let you go then?” Josie asked.
“Not precisely then. When he came back, he was like a completely different person. He was calm. It was almost like someone gave him a drug—he was so different. He brought me something to eat and drink, untied me, tossed me a blanket. Let me relieve myself. When he talked, he sounded so reasonable. I imagined this was what he must be like in his ‘real’ life. This must be what most people saw. Then I realized…”
She broke off.
“What?” Josie prompted softly.
“The night he killed Billy, he was wound up. Not crazy like he was this time, but he was… agitated. Angry. Mean. Once he had finished with me, he was so much calmer. Even when he heard the dishes topple, he wasn’t as high-alert as he was when he first broke in. It was like he needed to hurt us to satisfy some overwhelming urge. Like how a drug addict will be climbing out of their own skin for more of whatever they need, and then once they get it, it’s like this relaxed feeling takes over. That’s what it was like with him. It was subtle back in 1994, but still, I recognized it this time.”
“You thought he had killed someone?”
Gretchen nodded. “I asked him, ‘What did you do?’ and he said, ‘What your shit-stain of a kid made me do.’ Then he said he wasn’t going to get caught. That cops were stupid, and he hadn’t been caught in over twenty years—he wasn’t about to go down now.”
“So you tried to work out a deal with him?”
“I had to. He was going to kill me. No doubt. I knew once I was dead, he’d go after Ethan. I had told Ethan what to do, but I had no way of knowing if he would do it or if he would do it before O’Hara found him. I just knew I had to stall for time. Like I said, I didn’t care if he killed me, but my children…”
“You had to protect them,” Josie said. “I understand.”
“I didn’t know his name, but Ethan did. His name, where he lived, everything. I knew if he ever found Ethan, he’d find out about my daughter, and she’d be dead too. My only chance to buy my kids some time was to work out some kind of deal with him. Anything. I thought even if Ethan doesn’t do what I told him to do, maybe he’ll have the good sense to go to the police. To find my daughter and go to the police. That’s why I told O’Hara I would take the fall for James’s murder. That everyone would believe it was me anyway because he was so smart, he hadn’t left any evidence behind. He loved that.”
“He was arrogant, just like the FBI profile said.”
“Yes, very arrogant. He liked to have his ego stroked. I told him instead of killing me, he could put me in prison for the rest of my life. Like the cops have wanted to do to him for over twenty years. I said imagine that. Imagine getting away with that. Turning the so-called justice system on its head. I could tell by the look on his face that he was really liking the idea. It really appealed to his sense of egotism. Like the crime-scene tokens he always took and left. He didn’t have to do that to commit the crimes. He liked to fuck with people, that was his thing. That was always his thing. I think that’s why he attacked couples. He liked the idea of the husband having to listen while his wife was tortured in the next room.”
Gretchen stopped, a pallor coming over her features.
“Sit,” Josie said softly. “Drink some water.”
She pushed a fresh water bottle across the table, and Gretchen took it, gulping it down. Then she sat down again. This time she was more fatigued than nervous. “Anyway,” she continued, “he seemed to think me getting life in prison—especially now that I was a cop—was like the ultimate mind-fuck. I said I would do it, but he had to leave Ethan alone. He told me I was crazy, that Ethan knew his identity, and I couldn’t make a deal with him based on what Ethan might or might not do. I said if Ethan had wanted to turn him in, he would have already, that Ethan clearly just wanted to know his dad.”
“Did he buy that?”
Gretchen shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean it’s true though, isn’t it? Ethan knew O’Hara was a serial killer, or at least, he had a damn good idea, and he didn’t tell the authorities. I like to think he would have eventually.”
“Maybe it wasn’t real to him,” Josie said. “It was more like a game to him. Then when Omar started sending texts implying he was in over his head, Ethan got scared.”
“I think you’re right. Well, O’Hara and I went back and forth, and I agreed he could put a scare into Ethan, but he couldn’t kill him. If I found out Ethan had been killed, I would sing. I told him if he couldn’t convince Ethan, then I would try. It took hours. So many hours. Going round and round, trying to talk him into it. I think he was going to kill Ethan all along, and that he figured my confession would fall on deaf ears since there was no physical evidence he was at the Omar scene, and I didn’t know his actual identity. He didn’t think the cops would figure out the big clue he left at the Wilkins scene. He also didn’t even care if the police figured out the Seattle Soul Mate Strangler killed them. No one had ever solved a Strangler crime. It was his crowning achievement. I was the one who ruined all of that when I got away. He told me that he had spent years trying to track me down, and that he finally had about ten years ago. That was why he moved out to the East Coast. He liked the idea of spying on me, of always being within striking distance if the need took him. I often felt like I was being watched, but he never made himself known as far as I can tell. I’m not sure he wanted to kill me, because if he did, the game would be over once and for all.”
“It might have been that game that kept him from killing all this time. He was getting older, the murders were getting riskier, and knowing he had that power over you might have been enough to satisfy his urges.”
“Yes,” Gretchen agreed.
“O’Hara agreed to your deal then,” Josie said. “But you had already called Ethan.”
“It was a miracle, really. O’Hara was driving my car. Apparently, he had come to Denton with James in a rental, and he didn’t want to take that because it could be traced. I was laying in the back seat and had seen him toss the phones onto the front passenger seat. I knew I had to try. He had tied my hands in front of me, thank God, so there was a chance I could get Omar’s phone and make a call. If it had been password protected, I would have been screwed. I told him he had to take the MDT out of the car or the police would find him in minutes. I made sure to send him out to get the antenna off, and I was purposely vague about where it was so it would take him longer.”
Josie smiled. “It worked.”
“Yes. I got Ethan right away, and I just talked. I really had no idea if he’d take any of what I said to heart, but he said he already knew where my daughter was. I made him repeat back to me my instructions, the name of my contact in the Devil’s Blade. I told him that when he and my daughter were safe, to tell her to find a way to let me know. Then, once I knew they were safe, I was going to tell the truth.”
“Well, your plan worked,” Josie said.
“Josie,” Gretchen said, her eyes mournful. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to help me.”
“No apologies necessary. You thought the killer was in law enforcement. That complicated things. I don’t know if I would have done anything differently. In the heat of the moment, we make decisions we might not make otherwise. When your world narrows down to surviving, everything changes.”
“Thank you,” Gretchen said. Another moment ticked by. A small smile curved Gretchen’s lips. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
Josie laughed and gave her a wink. “You may have to buy me a few Danishes to make up for that.”
A moment passed between them in silence. There was one last piece of the puzzle that Josie hadn’t yet figured out. “You gave birth to twins,” she said. “Why didn’t anyone pick up on that when the Devil’s Blade dropped you off in front of the ATF building? I know they did medical examinations. At the very least, you would have had lots and lots of stretch marks.”
A sad smile spread across Gretchen’s face. “Twenty-three years ago, at a hospital in San Di
ego, a young mother named Anne Carson went into labor prematurely. She gave birth to twins seven weeks early. Carson Baby A and Baby B. I called them Billy and Agnes—after my husband and my grandmother. They were barely three pounds each. They spent two months in the NICU. I stayed with them as long as possible, and then Linc set me up nearby in one of his safe houses. He was the one who got me the fake identity before the babies came, so that when I went into labor, there were no questions at the hospital. I didn’t worry about the bills, because I wasn’t really Anne Carson. But that was the first time I knew I couldn’t really hide forever, and I sure as hell couldn’t give those babies the care they needed. Linc cut me up real good before they left me at the ATF building, so what stretch marks I did have weren’t really noticeable. I hadn’t had a C-section, so there was no scar from that. It was a risk, certainly, but no one ever questioned me.”
A dull roar rumbled outside. Gretchen and Josie went still, their ears pricked to the sound. It got closer, sounding like a jet taking off. The chair Josie sat in seemed to vibrate as the noise got louder, closer, and rose to a deafening crescendo.
Gretchen’s eyes bulged. “Devil’s Blade. They’re here.”
Chapter Seventy-One
Outside the Denton Police Station was a sea of Harley Davidsons as far as the eye could see. They filled up the street, blocking off traffic in every direction. Josie didn’t even try to count how many there were. All of them wore the Devil’s Blade bandana on their heads. Most looked like stereotypical bikers: heavy, rough leather jackets; long, scraggly hair; lengthy beards; tattoos on any exposed skin; and a look of menace that would make even a seasoned officer squirm. Except no one was squirming today. Gretchen, Josie, Noah, Dan Lamay, Heather Loughlin, and several other curious officers stood on the front steps of the station house, waiting as the sea of bikes parted down the middle and two people got off the backs of bikes driven by someone else.
Josie could tell by the awkward way the two of them dismounted that they were Gretchen’s children. Each of them tugged off a helmet and handed it to the biker who had driven them. Ethan looked exactly as he had in the photo of him and James on their fridge, but he was taller and skinnier than she had anticipated. His sister was equally as tall and thin, with long, dark hair that flowed down her back. When she turned her face toward the building, Josie was stunned by her resemblance to Gretchen. In fact, both of them looked a lot like their mother. Josie studied them as they approached slowly. She could see O’Hara in their faces, but his imprint was faint compared to Gretchen’s.
Gretchen stepped down to meet them at the bottom of the steps. The three of them stood around in awkward silence for a long moment. Finally, the girl stuck her hand out in Gretchen’s direction. “Hi, I’m Paula,” she said.
From where she stood, Josie could see the tears spill over and stream down Gretchen’s cheeks as she took the hand of her daughter for the first time. “Gretchen,” she croaked.
Ethan threw his arms around Gretchen, and slowly, she responded, wrapping her own arms around him and talking quietly into his ear.
The engines of the motorcycles roared once more. As each motorcycle departed, the biker gave Gretchen a small wave, almost a salute. Gretchen held one palm up in a constant wave back until every last one of them was gone.
Josie walked down to the pavement and introduced herself. “Let’s go inside,” she told them. “There’s a lot to talk about.”
Chapter Seventy-Two
Josie stood in front of the hotel window. Below her, the lights of New York City shimmered and glowed like something alive. Now that she was here on a vacation instead of a case, she could appreciate the view, which was similar to—but a little better than—the one from Trinity’s apartment. Of course, the room was Trinity’s doing. Josie told her that she and Noah wanted to get away for a few days, and Trinity had made all kinds of arrangements for them. Josie suspected that Trinity was trying to get her to fall in love with the city so that she would visit more.
Behind her, the door creaked open, and Noah walked through. In his hands he held a collection of brochures and maps. His phone was pressed to his ear.
“Yeah, okay,” he said into it. “That’s good news. Yeah, I’ll tell her.”
He hung up and tossed his phone onto the dresser. “That was Loughlin. She said the DA decided not to press obstruction charges against Gretchen. They felt it would be too much of a public-relations nightmare to prosecute the Strangler’s only surviving victim now that he’s been caught and the press is following his case so intensely.”
“That’s great,” Josie said.
“Yes,” he said. “It is.” He waved the brochures in the air. “I got a map of Manhattan.” He walked to the table in the corner of the room and spread them out. “Here’s one for the tour of Rockefeller Center. Horse carriage rides in Central Park, the 9/11 Museum… oh, and it looks like Trinity got us tickets to a Broadway show tomorrow.”
From behind him, Josie wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face between his shoulder blades. He turned in her embrace, smiling down at her and smoothing her hair away from her face. “This is great,” he said. “But to tell you the truth, the only thing I want to see in New York City is you.”
Grinning, Josie stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. “Same.”
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Books by Lisa Regan
Vanishing Girls
The Girl With No Name
Her Mother’s Grave
Her Final Confession
A Letter from Lisa
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Thank you so much for returning to the fictional Pennsylvania city of Denton to follow Josie Quinn on her latest adventure! I hope you’ll stick around for more as Josie takes on more intriguing and exciting cases.
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Lisa Regan
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Vanishing Girls
Detective Josie Quinn Book 1
Order now!
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‘Wow this book blew my mind!... Utterly fantastic, I loved it. It kept me hanging on the edge of my seat unable to put it down. A huge 5 stars.’ Bonnie’s Book Talk, 5 stars
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When Isabelle Coleman, a blonde, beautiful young girl goes missing, everyone from the small town of Denton joins the search. They can find no trace of the town’s darling, but Detective Josie Quinn finds another girl they didn’t even know was missing.
* * *
Mute and unresponsive, it’s clear this mysterious girl has been damaged beyond repair. All Josie can get from her is the name of a third girl and a flash of a neon tongue piercing that matches Isabelle’s.
* * *
The race is on to find Isabelle alive, and Josie fears there may be other girls in terrible danger. When the trail leads her to a cold case labelled
a hoax by authorities, Josie begins to wonder is there anyone left she can trust?
* * *
Someone in this close-knit town is committing unspeakable crimes. Can Josie catch the killer before another victim loses their life?
* * *
Utterly gripping crime for readers who adored Angela Marsons, Rachel Abbott and Robert Dugoni. You will be sleeping with the lights on once you discover the first in this unputdownable new crime thriller series.
The Girl With No Name
Detective Josie Quinn Book 2
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Detective Josie Quinn is horrified when she’s called to the house of a mother who had her newborn baby snatched from her arms.
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A woman caught fleeing the scene is Josie’s only lead, but when questioned it seems this mysterious girl doesn’t know who she is, where she’s from or why she is so terrified…
