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“Stop!” Josie shouted. “Stop or I’m going to shoot!”
But he was beyond reason now. When the sawing didn’t work, he began hitting the frayed belt with the knife. Josie gave him one more warning as the flashlight beam steadied. When he didn’t heed it, she took the shot, hitting his arm. It was enough for the knife to drop. Raffy staggered backward and fell, clutching at his arm, shock spreading across his face. Josie kicked the knife away. Gretchen was by her side then as they turned Raffy onto his stomach and zip-tied his wrists together. Gretchen shouted the all-clear so that the deputies could enter the bridge and get Raffy to the nearest ambulance.
Josie snatched up the flashlight and ran back to the wall of the bridge. Shouts came up from the water below. A creaking noise filled the air. The light illuminated the seatbelt just as the final thread gave way. The flashlight tumbled over and down into the water as Josie threw her body at the seatbelt. Her hands caught it, the edge of the wall slamming into her ribs. She teetered there, the strap holding Sam Toselli aloft in both hands. Then the momentum took her, and she tumbled after him, into the darkness, plunging into the icy water.
The shock of the water pierced every cell of her body, stunning her heart, stopping time. Then her limbs began to work, to try to swim upward toward the surface. Except it was too dark to tell which way was upward. She tried not to panic but soon her lungs burned, aching for air. She heard Lisette’s voice again.Stop fighting, dear.
She let go. Let her limbs go slack. Let her body float. Bob to the surface. Then a pair of familiar arms encircled her waist. She was dragged out of the water. Shouts replaced the stillness of what might have been her underwater grave. She heard only one. Noah.
“I’ve got her. I’ve got her.”
She felt rocks beneath her. Noah’s fingers pressed against her throat. Her eyes flew open. He smiled down at her though she could still see the vestiges of panic lining his face. “Hey,” he said. “You’re okay.”
“Sam,” she said. “Is he—”
Noah palmed her cheek. “Mett caught him. He’s alive. Dehydrated, in shock, scared shitless, but okay. So’s his mom.”
Josie felt exhaustion seep through every inch of her body. She closed her eyes. “Get us some blankets, would you?”
FIFTY-SIX
ONE WEEK LATER
Josie and Noah rang Beau Collins’s doorbell. From outside, she could hear the chime echo through the cavernous space inside. Soon after, Margot Huff opened the door. Fatigue had taken its toll. Large bags sat beneath her eyes. Her sweater and jeans hung loose on her. Still, she managed a wan smile for them. “Come on in, he’s in the great room.”
Josie and Noah walked into the foyer. Noah asked, “Does he know we’re coming?”
Margot shook her head. “I didn’t want to give him time to come up with a selection of lies to offer in response to whatever revelations you two are bringing with you today.”
She held Josie’s gaze for a beat, as if testing to see if Josie would disclose why they’d asked for the meeting, but the truth was, even Josie herself didn’t know what all the evidence meant.
Margot shrugged and turned away, beckoning them to follow. Beau was seated in the middle of the couch that faced the wall of windows but paying no attention to the view. On the coffee table before him were a collection of trinkets that he was carefully rolling in bubble wrap and placing into a large box.
He offered Josie and Noah a small smile although it only served to make him look more gruesome. Raffy had beaten him so badly that it would be a few weeks before all the swelling and bruising went away. The doctors in the Emergency Department had assured him that his face would, eventually, return to normal. “Officers,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
Josie and Noah stood on the other side of the coffee table, looking down at him. Margot stayed off to the side, as if she were ready to flee out the front door at any moment. Josie had a feeling that if she could get the truth out of Beau, for real this time, Margot would wish she’d never walked through the doors.
“We just need to ask you some follow-up questions,” Noah said.
Beau put a vase he’d been wrapping into the box and wiped his palms on his jeans. “How’s Brooke?”
“She’s well,” Josie said. “We found her a spot at an assisted living facility. She’s starting occupational therapy.” She didn’t mention that the last time she had seen Brooke, she asked for Beau to visit. Of all the things for poor Brooke to remember consistently, it had to be Beau Collins. Although, Josie supposed it could be worse. The greater percentage of her memories could be of Raffy. Regardless, Josie was hopeful that Brooke would make newer, better memories in her new place. She would never function at full capacity again but with consistent care and an environment where she felt cared for and safe, she might regain a lot.
“I’d like to see her,” Beau said. “I’ve already set up a trust for her. It should help with her future care. It’s the least I can do. How are Jasmine and Sam? She won’t take my calls.”
“We’re not at liberty to say,” Josie told him.
Sam and Jasmine Toselli were recovering well from their ordeal, but Jasmine had specifically asked them not to share any details with Beau Collins. At least, not yet.
He looked disappointed. “Oh, okay. Well, I’ve left messages for her. Maybe she’ll reach out.”
Josie moved around the coffee table and perched on the edge of it, facing him. Their knees touched. “Beau,” she said. “We need to talk about some things but first, I’m going to have to read you your rights.”
He laughed nervously. “My rights? What is this? A TV show?”
When he realized it was not a joke, he swallowed, looking at her soberly. “Okay, sure. Fine. Go ahead.”
Josie read him his Miranda rights and when she asked whether or not he understood them, he said yes. She waited for him to ask for an attorney, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at her expectantly.
