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“Because I work for the police and if some man was lurking around in the woods taking children, we would know about it. Not a single parent in Denton has reported their child missing, and we’ve had no reports of any man in the woods trying to take children.”
He looked at her and she could tell by his expression that he still had doubts. “The next time you talk to Uncle Noah, he’ll tell you the same thing.”
This seemed to help, although he didn’t sound completely convinced when he said, “Okay.”
Drake said, “You know, when I was your age, the kids at school used to say the same thing. There was a scary man in the woods, and he was after all of us, but it turned out they were wrong. There was never a man. Those were just rumors.”
“Yeah,” said Trinity. “We had very similar rumors at my school, too.”
Harris looked from Drake to Trinity. “What’s rumors?”
Josie held him while the adults gave him a crash course in rumors. Her thoughts drifted back to Lark Hadlee and what she’d said about the Jana Melburn case.Once the rumors start, you can’t stop them…Everyone had an opinion or a theory. I don’t think anyone ever cared about Jana Melburn. Her death was just entertainment.
Josie would have to talk to Trinity about the case when they were alone. For now, she would just try to enjoy the evening with her family—both biological and found. The truth was that she was glad for their company, especially with Noah still at work. She felt like the experience at the Hadlee farm had left some kind of foul residue on her psyche. The normalcy of having dinner and watching a movie with people she loved felt wonderful and yet, as the night wore on, thoughts of the case found their way into her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about Rosalie Eddy. Maybe it was because she reminded Josie so much of her own late grandmother. Maybe it was because she’d been so brave and yet so practical. The stoicism with which she had handled news of Sharon’s death was reminiscent of how Lisette Matson had handled so many tragedies in her life. Like Lisette, Rosalie was a woman of steel.
Once in bed, Josie tossed and turned most of the night, eliciting groans from Trout, who slept at her feet. She was still awake when Noah slid into bed between three and foura.m. Wordlessly, he rolled toward her and gathered her in his arms. She felt the warmth of his bare chest against the thin back of her T-shirt. The feel and smell of him sent an instantaneous wave of relaxation through her body. Tension drained from her. He nuzzled her ear. “Why are you still awake?”
“Why do you think?”
“Mett told me about Sharon Eddy’s grandmother—what she was like. He said she reminded him of Lisette.”
When Josie said nothing, he added, “We’ll get this guy, Josie. I promise.”
“Did you get anywhere today? After Gretchen and I left?”
He kissed the hollow behind her ear. “Will you sleep if I tell you?”
Her fingers found his forearm and traced the muscles from wrist to elbow. “Maybe. If not, you can clear my head.”
He chuckled, his breath in her hair. “I’m happy to clear your head at any time. We talked with Sharon Eddy’s coworkers. No red flags. No ex-boyfriends to be concerned about. No stalkers. No inappropriate clients. No one seen hanging around in the weeks or days before her murder. She never complained to anyone about anything. No beefs with anyone that we could turn up. We got into her phone finally. Nothing much on there either. The GPS on the phone puts her at the edge of the Hempstead Trail at six forty-three in the morning. Then nothing.”
“Someone turned it off,” said Josie.
“Yeah. Someone smart enough to know that we’d be able to use it to follow Sharon’s movements if it had been on. That’s a dead end. We tracked down her friends. Talked with them. Same story as her coworkers—nothing concerning leading up to her death. There was a guy she had been seeing casually.”
“Who?” Josie asked.
“James Michael Bishop, Jr. We ran a background check before we tracked him down. He was clean.”
“Does he have an alibi?” asked Josie.
“Does he ever,” Noah breathed, squeezing her more tightly. “Turns out he’s an EMT with the city. Young, new. Guess who’s been mentoring him?”
Josie felt the weird combination of discomfort, sadness, and affection that she always felt when Lisette Matson’s long-lost blood-related grandson came up. “Sawyer Hayes.”
“Yes,” Noah said. “Bishop was on shift with Sawyer the day that Sharon went missing and was later killed. In fact, that morning he saved a little boy at a daycare in West Denton who was found unresponsive. It was pretty impressive, to hear Sawyer tell it.”
“Bishop must be good. Sawyer isn’t impressed by much.” Josie sighed. “Sharon had good taste in men. Did you find any connection between Sharon and Vance Hadlee?”
“None.”
Josie sighed. “That leaves us nowhere.”
“Not necessarily. We’re still on Vance Hadlee,” Noah said. “By the way, we reached the high school kids who helped Lark Hadlee with the afternoon milking. They didn’t see Vance at all on Friday. His alibi is non-existent. Just because we couldn’t find the connection doesn’t mean it’s not there. At least he’s off the street.”
Josie thought of the way Dermot Hadlee had managed to control so much of the day’s events, even with the physical limitations his stroke had left him. She had no delusions that Vance Hadlee would spend any significant time behind bars, if he was even charged at all.
Josie turned her body so she could face Noah. She ran a hand through his thick hair and kissed him. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she whispered.
