Cold Heart Creek: A nail-biting and gripping mystery suspense thriller (Detective Josie Quinn Book 7)

by Lisa Regan

  Thirty-Seven

  Exhaustion weighed down Josie’s limbs. It was hard to believe that only two days ago she and Noah had been called out to the Yateses’ campsite. So much had happened, so many leads had been chased and so much conflicting information had been collected, she felt overwhelmed by it all. As if reading her mind, Noah said, “Let’s talk this out.”

  They sat at their desks—Noah, Josie, Gretchen, and Mettner, who had just arrived for his shift.

  Gretchen said, “Someone should get Chitwood. He’ll want to be briefed.”

  A collective groan went up from the rest of them. Mettner stood, trudged over to Chitwood’s office and knocked on the door. A brusque “What?” came from the other side. Mettner poked his head inside the door and said a few words. Then he closed the door behind him and walked back to his desk. “He’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Nearly a half hour later, Chitwood emerged from his office. He stood near their desks, arms crossed over his thin chest as he listened to their updates. When they finished, he was silent for a long moment. Josie was beginning to think he had fallen asleep with his eyes open when finally, he said, “Tyler and Valerie Yates went camping with Emilia Gresham a couple of miles from the Sanctuary because Emilia’s husband, Jack, joined the cult and she wanted to get him back. Tyler and Valerie were poisoned and strangled—and our killer left a nice little gift for us in Valerie’s throat in case we weren’t convinced of just how sadistic he really is. Emilia either left or was taken from the campsite, went through the Sanctuary property, and out to the road where she was likely picked up by a vehicle. But her backpack, as well as several other items you believe are from the Yateses’ campsite, were found in Michael Donovan’s cave.”

  “That’s correct, sir,” Gretchen said.

  “In the meantime, while you guys were questioning these clowns at the Sanctuary, Quinn talks to this Renee Kelly who seemed afraid, hinting that someone there might be hurting her.”

  “Well,” Josie clarified. “She didn’t actually hint at it—that was my assessment.”

  “Fine,” Chitwood said. “Quinn told her to leave the premises and meet her down the road. Kelly left the Sanctuary during the night but never made it to where Quinn or Palmer were waiting.”

  “Correct,” Noah supplied.

  “The next day, you guys apprehend Michael Donovan and take him into custody. Renee Kelly’s body is found on the bank of Cold Heart Creek, miles from both the caverns and the Sanctuary but closer to the caverns. Evidence suggests she was killed elsewhere and dumped there. She had old and new ligature marks on her wrists indicating that she had been bound by the wrists several times in the weeks or months before her death. Like Valerie Yates, she may or may not have been sexually assaulted, she was manually strangled, and this sicko left a black walnut necklace in her throat.”

  “Yes,” Josie said.

  “All right,” Chitwood said. “What else have we got?”

  “I found a piece of rope in one of the cabins on the Sanctuary property. Hummel is testing that for blood now,” Josie said.

  “Michael Donovan has been charged with the abduction of Maya Bestler as well as multiple counts of rape. You guys do DNA testing?”

  “We did,” Josie said. “Maya consented to us taking a sample from her son which Noah and Hummel took care of this morning. Andrew Bowen, Donovan’s attorney, also agreed to his client giving a sample. Hummel took that as well.”

  “Those are gonna take weeks to come back. But that’s not our problem. That’s the DA’s problem. The Bestler case is wrapped up, then?”

  Noah said, “Well, yeah, but we can’t rule out Donovan for the Yates and Kelly murders or Emilia Gresham’s disappearance. Like you just said, Donovan had Gresham’s backpack as well as several items from the Yates campsite in his cave.”

  Chitwood waved a hand in the air. “But searches turned up no other evidence of Gresham in or near the caverns, right? The dog from the K-9 unit didn’t track her to the cave. Donovan says he ransacked the campsite after the fact. We can’t prove him wrong. You guys have no DNA on either of the Yates bodies, do you?”

  “No sir,” Gretchen answered.

  “But we have DNA from Renee Kelly’s body,” Josie said.

  Noah added, “He would have had time to kill her and move her body before we apprehended him.”

  “But until those DNA results come in, we can’t charge him,” Chitwood pointed out. “Wrap up the paperwork on the Bestler case and send the file to the DA. I’ll be happy to have that off my desk. The press is gonna be all over me on this one. They don’t seem to have a clue yet, but it’s only a matter of time before they figure out a missing woman was found alive. Held captive by some feral mountain man? That’s press gold. Let’s go back to Gresham.”

  Mettner said, “WYEP is still running her photo. I called her sister as soon as I got in. She said there was no sign of her or of Jack at their apartment. Of course, now we know why.”

  “How about warrants to get into the phones?” Chitwood asked. “We’ve got three phones belonging to Tyler Yates, Valerie Yates and Emilia Gresham.”

  Gretchen said, “We’re still waiting on those. It could be another day or more, but I’m not sure they’ll be of any use. We already know where our focus needs to be now.”

  Josie said, “Jack Gresham—he’s missing, too, as far as we know—and the Sanctuary.”

  Chitwood said, “You guys were there a few times in the last forty-eight hours. You showed them photos of Emilia. What about Jack?”

  Josie said, “We didn’t know he was a player until just now, so no, we didn’t show them a photo of him. I also didn’t see him there. But no one admitted to having seen Emilia or Tyler, both of whom had been there before to try to get Jack to come home, so they’re a bunch of liars. They’ve obviously been coached not to tell us anything of use. Noah and I even conducted private interviews and got nothing.”

  “We need more information,” Noah said.

  “Like what?” Chitwood asked.

  “Like someone who used to live there. Someone who can tell us more about them and their inner workings.”

  “Where are we gonna find that, Fraley?”

  Noah ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know,” he said. With the circles under his eyes, his five o’clock shadow, rumpled clothes, and slumped shoulders, he reflected the exhaustion they were all feeling.

  Mettner said, “Everyone there said they heard of the place through word of mouth, right? So obviously there are people who leave there and go back into the world. We have to find one of those people. I read the reports from yesterday—a good percentage of the people there are recovering addicts. Maybe we start visiting rehab facilities. See if any of the patients there know the place.”

  Gretchen groaned. “That’s going to be a lot of work, but it’s a solid idea. I can start making a list of rehab facilities. We can hit them tomorrow morning.”

  Josie said, “Moore knows something.”

  Everyone looked at her. Chitwood said, “How do you know?”

  “Because when we first asked him about the Sanctuary, he got defensive.”

  “That guy’s a douche all the way around,” Noah remarked. “Doesn’t mean he knows anything.”

  Josie thought of the way Moore had answered almost all of her questions with a question when she’d asked about the place. “No,” she said. “He knows more than he’s letting on. I think he either knows someone who lives there now or someone who used to live there.”

  Gretchen said, “Or he lived there at some point.”

  Noah said, “So what do we do? Ask him? He’s been a pain in the ass since this started, and he’s even more pissed at us since the Chief called his boss to give him an attitude adjustment. What makes you think he’s just going to tell us? Especially if he was the one who used to live there? He’s not going to want to admit to that. Not to us.”

  Chitwood walked over to Josie and looked down at her, arms still crossed ov
er his chest. “Quinn,” he barked. “You sure about this?”

  “Moore definitely knows something.”

  Chitwood nodded slowly. Then he turned to Mettner. “Mettner, you call Deputy Moore. Tell him I need to talk to him.”

  “Sir,” Mettner said. “I don’t—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Mettner. The man’s got a cell phone. Call it.”

  Mettner began shuffling papers around on his desk, looking for Moore’s cell phone number. “I’ll text it to you, Mett,” Josie told him.

  Chitwood pointed a finger at Josie. “Finish up your paperwork and then Quinn, Palmer, and Fraley, go home and get some rest. I expect all hands on deck tomorrow. I want this Gresham woman found yesterday!”

  Thirty-Eight

  The paperwork took a few hours. Then Josie, Noah and Gretchen went out to dinner, discussing the case as they ate but coming no closer to any firm conclusions. At home, Josie and Noah stripped down to nothing and fell into bed. Noah fit his body against Josie’s, wrapping her in his arms and nuzzling her ear. Josie laughed softly. “You’re going to be asleep in thirty seconds.”

  His breath was warm on her neck. “Truth.”

  “What do you think Chitwood’s up to?” Josie asked.

  “I don’t know. Guess he’s going to try to find out what Moore knows about the Sanctuary. Man, I’d love to be there when he talks to Moore. I can just hear him now: ‘son, I’ve been doing this since you were in diapers!’”

  Josie giggled. “If I had a dollar for every time he’s said that to me, I wouldn’t have to work.”

  “Me either.”

  Noah kissed the nape of her neck, his arms pulling her in closer. “Do we have to talk about work right now?”

  Josie turned into him, kissing him deeply. In spite of how tired they were, their lovemaking was slow and purposeful. Josie tried to commit every touch, every kiss, every movement to memory. She wanted these moments to replace all the horrors of the last few days inside her brain, if only for a little while. Afterward, she fell asleep feeling comforted and content.

  But it wasn’t enough to ward off the nightmares.

  She was running through the woods this time. The night was inky black. Branches of barren, gnarled trees reached out for her from every direction. No matter how far or fast she ran, there was no way out of the forest. When she saw a sliver of moonlight ahead, her feet pounded harder against the leaf-strewn ground. Almost there, her hand shot out to grab the shaft of silver light, but something snagged her ankle. She fell as it dragged her backward into the darkness. She was small again. Six years old. “You’re a feather!” her daddy used to tell her before he threw her up in the air and caught her again. She used to laugh so hard. “Again, Daddy!” she would shriek. “Again!”

  In the dream, she cried for him as the thing in the night pulled her back, away from the light. “Daddy, help!”

  Lila’s voice cut through the blackness. “You want your daddy?” she growled. “I’ll show you your daddy.”

  Josie’s limbs scrabbled against the roots of trees, trying to get away. She knew what was coming, and every cell in her body screamed in protest. She didn’t want to see him. Not after what Lila had done to him. Even as she screamed the word “no” longer and louder than she ever had, a spotlight shone down on her. She wasn’t being hauled through the forest anymore by some unseen creature. Now she stood in the center of the spotlight with Lila behind her. Lila’s hand reached around and gripped Josie’s chin, squeezing hard enough to bruise, and forcing her to look.

  In front of them, Eli Matson sat slumped against a tree, the back of his head splattered across its trunk. “You think your daddy is so great?” Lila growled. “Look what he did. He left you.”

  “No,” Josie cried. “You killed him. You did this.”

  Lila’s grip tightened on Josie’s jaw, cutting off her words. “That’s right, girl. I’ll destroy everything you love. You don’t say one word, you got that? Not one word.”

  The spotlight extinguished and Josie wriggled from Lila’s grasp, racing away into the night. But everywhere she went, Lila was there. Every time she got away, Lila captured her again. There was no end, no rest, no peace. Sweat seeped from every pore. Her lungs screamed for air. Every muscle in her body burned. Her mind felt foggy. Exhaustion tugged at her, and hopelessness knocked her to the ground. She no longer had the energy to even stand up. She told her body to get up, to keep running away, but it wouldn’t.

  Lila was there, holding her down, looming over her. “I’ve got something for you, JoJo,” she said in a singsong voice.

  With one hand, she pried open Josie’s mouth. The dream was pitch black and yet with perfect clarity, Josie saw the black walnut necklace dangling from Lila’s other hand just seconds before she jammed it deep into Josie’s throat.

  Thirty-Nine

  Josie woke on the bedroom floor, legs kicking, hands clutching at her throat until an ear-splitting scream came out. They had left Josie’s bedside lamp on and in the glow of it, Josie’s eyes fixed on Noah. He squatted next to her, calling her name, touching her arms and her hair, trying to bring her back from the depths of the nightmare. Her fingers found his face and she cupped his cheeks, staring desperately into his eyes, trying to anchor herself in reality.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “You’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

  He waited for her breathing to even out before helping her back up into bed. Her bedside clock read three forty-three a.m. Josie knew she wouldn’t go back to sleep. Noah settled in beside her, holding her and pulling her head gently down onto his chest. Josie focused on the steady thump of his heartbeat.

  “What’s going on, Josie?” he asked.

  “Nightmares,” she said.

  He chuckled. “You don’t say.”

  “Bad memories,” she said. “From when I was a kid. Also, these cases we’re working on. It’s all jumbled in my head. I can’t—I can’t stop them.”

  “Is there something about these cases that’s reminding you of that stuff?”

  “No, I don’t know,” Josie answered. She didn’t want to tell him about the calls. She already knew what he would say: she should go see Lila. They had unfinished business. But did they? Lila had destroyed not just a good portion of Josie’s childhood but a part of Josie’s sense of self and security. Lila had tortured her, and Josie hated her for it. That was Josie’s truth, plain and simple. She didn’t need to visit Lila to know that. She didn’t need to give Lila that last bit of satisfaction in life by coming when she called.

  “I guess just being out in the woods,” Josie lied. “My mom took my dad out for a walk in the woods before she killed him and staged it as a suicide. She used to take me out to the tree where she did it when she was feeling especially cruel.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too,” Josie whispered. “Me too.”

  She didn’t sleep after that. Her mind was a taut string about to snap. Her bones and muscles felt weak and heavy. At six she left Noah snoring in bed and went downstairs for coffee. She waited another hour before waking him and tried to put on a smile for him as they got ready for the day and drove to police headquarters.

  Mettner had gone off shift, but Gretchen was already there. She stood outside the conference room door, her brown eyes gleaming with excitement. When she saw Josie and Noah, she rolled up onto the balls of her feet and back.

  “Wow,” Noah said. “I haven’t seen you this excited since Komorrah’s came out with a toasted pecan frappuccino.”

  Gretchen slapped his shoulder as he and Josie stopped next to her. “This is better than that,” she said. “Josie was right.”

  “About Moore?” Josie asked.

  Gretchen nodded. “He has a younger sister, Haylie. Ten years ago, when she was eighteen and just out of high school, she went to live on the Sanctuary.”

  “Really?” Noah said, eyes widening. He nudged Josie with an elbow. “Good work. Did Moore say why he di
dn’t mention it when we asked him about the Sanctuary?”

  “I guess he didn’t want her getting caught up in this case by association. She only lived there for six months but when her brother asked her to come in and meet with us—at Chief Chitwood’s urging—she said no problem.”

  “She’s in there?” Josie said, a stab of excitement piercing the cloud of fatigue she couldn’t shake off.

  Gretchen nodded. “You guys ready to talk to her?”

  Haylie Moore looked like she was ready to take a jog—in a Penn State T-shirt and blue running shorts, her shoulder-length blonde hair pulled back from her face with a black cloth headband. When they walked in, she was standing at the window, looking outside. The sky was still a bruised gray. Haylie turned when the three of them entered. She smiled easily at them, walking over to shake each one of their hands. Josie was happy to see that law enforcement didn’t intimidate her.

  Gretchen had brought in several cups of coffee, and Haylie accepted one with a soft “thank you.” Once they were seated, she said, “My brother said you wanted to know about the Sanctuary.”

  “Yes,” Gretchen said, pushing a basket of sugar and creamer across the table toward her. “Anything you can tell us about how it works and the people there would be extremely helpful.”

  Haylie stirred cream and sugar into her coffee. “Where should I start?”

  Josie asked, “How did you hear about it?”

  “I was working at this restaurant, The Dogwood Diner, as a waitress, and one of the other girls told me about it. Well, I shouldn’t say girl. She was way older than me. She was in and out of rehab like crazy. Lost her whole family ’cause she couldn’t stay off drugs. Anyway, she was getting her life back together, and she told me she owed it all to the Sanctuary. I asked her what that was—I thought it was some rehab facility, but she said it helped her way more than any rehab place ever did.”