AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They’re safe,” he insisted. “Please. I don’t want anyone to know—”
Noah said, “If you don’t tell us, we will talk to every mother of every boy on the teams that were playing that night until we find her. Either everyone who was at the rec center that night finds out that you have a secret son with another woman, or you tell us her name and we discreetly protect her and your son. Your choice.”
For a long moment, Josie didn’t think he was going to tell them. He slumped in the middle of the couch, shrinking down into its cushions. After what felt like an eternity, he said, “Jasmine. Jasmine Toselli.”
FORTY-EIGHT
Jasmine Toselli lived across town in East Denton. Her home was well kept with the trappings of a seven-year-old strewn across the lawn and porch. Even so, her home could easily have fit inside the Collinses’ living room. Josie thought about Beau’s cavernous home, now a crime scene, sitting empty while here, only a few miles away, his son lived in a modest house, completely unaware of his father’s identity or of the danger that now stalked him and his mother. Josie and Noah had called for the nearest units to go to the Toselli household for a welfare check immediately. When Josie and Noah arrived, there were two patrol cars parked out front.
Lights glowed from the windows, but the uniformed officers tromped around the house with their flashlights. One of them came down the porch steps as Josie and Noah got out of their vehicle. “Doesn’t look like anyone is here,” he said. “Lights are on, but no one answered when we knocked and rang the bell. Dispatch got her phone numbers—cell and home—but she’s not answering. A window here in the front and one in the back gives us a limited view inside, but no one appears to be there.”
Noah said, “They could be upstairs or in a room that’s not visible. We have to get inside. I don’t think we should wait for dispatch to try to get this woman on the phone. In fact, have dispatch ping her phone right now.”
“You got it,” said one of the other officers. He walked off, head bent toward his radio.
Josie’s stomach burned. She turned in a circle, taking in the quaint, quiet street. “Do we know what kind of vehicle Jasmine Toselli drives? Is it here? Maybe she’s gone out.”
The other officer pointed to a small Mitsubishi a couple of houses over. “That’s her car.”
Jasmine and Sam Toselli had come home. Why weren’t they answering their door? Why wasn’t Jasmine answering her phones?
Josie sprinted up the steps. “Let’s go. We’re going in. I don’t want to waste any more time.” She instructed the other officer to go to the back of the house and cover that entry point.
Noah joined her on the porch. “We can’t force entry,” he said gently.
“The hell we can’t,” Josie said.
“Josie, this is a welfare check. We can only go in if signs of a struggle or a body are visible. They’re not.”
“Noah,” she said, feeling a vise tighten around her chest. “You know damn well this killer is after them. He may have already killed them.”
“We can make some calls, try to get in touch with someone close to Jasmine Toselli. Maybe we can contact Sam’s school and find out his emergency contact.”
“We cannot wait,” Josie said.
“The policy—”
Her words came out as a shout before she could stop them. “I don’t give a damn about policy right now!” It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice to him. Noah stepped back. More quietly, she said, “This kid is Harris’s age, Noah. He’s seven years old. I’ll go in there myself. You can step off this porch and I’ll take responsibility for it. The Chief can fire me, for all I care. I won’t be able to live with it if we hesitate and this boy dies. I—”
She stopped talking because Noah wasn’t looking at her anymore. His gaze was locked on the door behind her, eyes cast downward at waist-level. “Josie,” he croaked. “Look.”
She turned toward the door. It was a screen door with glass panels. A large piece on the bottom and a smaller piece up top. At first all Josie saw was a child’s greasy handprint on the lower glass panel. “I don’t—” she began, but Noah moved closer. He took her shoulders and guided her over to where he had been standing.
“You can see it from this angle.”
She looked back at the door. The vise squeezing her chest grew painfully tight. Noah was right. It wasn’t visible unless you stood where the light hit the door just right. Left by the natural oils of the boy’s finger was a crude drawing of a man’s face. Just an oval, beady eyes, a slash for a nose, another slash for a mouth and wild scribbles for a beard. Next to that was what first appeared to be an arrow, but on closer examination, she realized it was meant to be a gun. Under both hastily drawn items were two words, scrawled in a seven-year-old’s uncertain hand.
Bad Man.
Before Josie could react, Noah was in front of her, yanking the screen door open. His pistol was in his hands. He tried the front doorknob but it didn’t budge. Stepping back, he lifted a booted foot and kicked at the area just next to the knob. It took three tries and then wood splintered and the door flew open.
He looked back at her. Somehow, her mind had gone on autopilot. Her pistol was in her hands, ready. Without thought, through muscle memory, they dropped into house-clearing mode. Noah took the lead.
As they stepped across the threshold, Noah swept the right side of the room while Josie swept the left. Her mind catalogued details as they went, filing them away for future use, if needed. A tiny foyer area was separated from the large living room by a waist-high wall. The carpet in the foyer was rumpled. In the living room, an iPad lay on the couch next to a crumpled blanket. A bowl of pretzels sat on the coffee table.
Next to it was a rectangular puzzle box.
“Noah,” Josie choked out.
