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Anya’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really? What case is that?”
“The Jana Melburn case,” Josie said. “Does it sound familiar?”
Anya shook her head. “Vaguely. Was it a homicide? I had some homicides during my tenure there. They were all residents of the city. Bradysport. It’s the biggest city in Everett County, where most of our cases were from. If I recall, every single one of them was a result of disputes over drug territory. There were two gangs in Bradysport back then and they had frequent skirmishes over which of them controlled the southeast side of the city. Gunshot wounds, every single case.”
“No,” Josie said. “This was something different.”
“You might talk to my mentor, Garrick Wolfe. He was with the county ME’s office far longer than me.”
“I can speak with him,” Josie said. “But you performed the autopsy.”
“Oh,” said Anya. “Well, Josie, I’ve done hundreds, if not thousands, of autopsies in my career. I don’t remember them all.”
“I know,” said Josie. “I was just wondering if Jana Melburn stood out to you. Having spent the day in Bly yesterday, I can tell you there aren’t many people there who haven’t heard about her case. You really don’t remember?”
Anya shook her head again. “I’m sorry, but not off the top of my head. When was this?”
Josie thought about the date of Jana’s murder. “It would have been right around the time you left.”
A sad smile played on Anya’s lips. “I was a wreck then. That entire time period is a blur. I did my job, but all I could think about was how to get out of Bly and away from Vance forever. Tell me about the case. Maybe it will help me remember.”
“Nineteen-year-old found at the bottom of a ravine,” Josie said. “Next to Latchwood Lake."
Anya flinched. “Sounds like Sharon Eddy.”
“I know. But Jana Melburn had massive head injuries. You ruled it an accident. People in Bly believed that a local guy named Mathias Tobin did it.”
“Wait.” Anya took a moment, eyes squinting as she searched her brain for the memory. “I do have a vague recollection of this, but Josie, that was ten years ago. During a time when I was nursing a horrific injury inflicted on me by my husband who I was sure was going to kill me when I finally left him. I never admitted this to anyone, God help me, but at that time? The only thing on my mind was the fifteen hours and forty-three minutes that my husband held me and tortured me. Every day, it replayed in my mind over and over. I did go to work because I needed the money to get away from him—to try to be safe. I went through the motions. Garrick took up the slack for me when he could, but it’s entirely possible that I missed something. I’m sorry.”
Josie nodded. “I understand.”
Her entire body started to shake. “Since then, I blocked a lot of stuff out from that entire time period. I had to, in order to survive.”
Josie closed the distance between them and pulled Anya into a tight hug. She stiffened for a brief moment even as her frame shuddered. “It’s okay, Doc. I understand.”
Slowly, some of the tension drained from Anya. After a minute, she wrapped her arms around Josie and held on. The trembling went on for so long that Josie started to worry that she was going into shock. “I’m going to do everything I can to keep you safe,” Josie said into her ear. “All of us will.”
She felt Anya nod. Noah appeared in the doorway and seeing them, quietly turned and left them alone. Josie wasn’t sure how much time passed but she stayed in place until Anya’s body stilled, and she extricated herself from the hug. Taking a step back, she wiped tears from her cheeks. Looking everywhere but at Josie, she said, “If you think it’s important, I’ll try to remember what I can. Jana Melburn, you said?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll think about it. Can you get me the autopsy report? That would help.”
“Yes,” said Josie.
“You really think the two cases are connected?”
“Possibly. I’ve got to talk to Sharon’s grandmother again.”
“If you find a connection after you talk to her, please let me know.”
EIGHTEEN
Josie left Anya in the capable hands of her colleagues and went in search of Rosalie Eddy. She wasn’t home. When Josie called her cell phone, Rosalie said she was at a nearby funeral home. Josie asked her to call back when she got home, but Rosalie insisted she come directly to the funeral home. The parking lot was deserted save for the vehicle Josie knew to be registered to Rosalie. Inside, Josie’s feet sank into the thick burgundy carpet. After speaking with the director, Josie was led to a large room in the funeral home cellar where mock-ups of different types of caskets lined the walls. Rosalie, wearing a floral print dress, leaned on her cane, studying a simple wooden chest. As Josie approached, she looked over with a wan smile.
“They’re all so expensive. Even the so-called ‘cheap’ ones, and every time I have to do this, they cost even more.”
“I know,” Josie said.
