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“Mr. Thomas,” Josie called. “It’s Detective Quinn. I need to speak to you immediately.”
Josie’s heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest. If he didn’t answer, there wasn’t much they could do. They had no concrete evidence that Savannah Patchett was inside or that Thomas had anything to do with her disappearance. They were there based on Josie’s theories, which, while solid, weren’t enough for even a search warrant. The Chief had proposed having Luke and Blue search for Savannah again. If they led Denton PD back to Thomas’s cabin, then they would have enough for another search warrant.
Josie had worried that would take too long and advocated for approaching him and questioning him directly.
She knocked on the door again. “Mr. Thomas! Open up.”
Footsteps sounded from inside. To Josie’s relief, the door swung open. Clothed in a plain white T-shirt and black sweatpants, Henry Thomas stared at her. “You again,” he said. Looking beyond her, he saw Gretchen and the Chief. Josie didn’t miss the momentary flash of panic on his face. “What now?”
“Where is Savannah Patchett?”
He rolled his eyes. “We’re back on that again. I told you. I had nothing to do with that girl going missing.”
“Savannah Patchett,” Josie said. “She’s eight years old. Curly brown hair. Blue eyes. Kayleigh Patchett’s sister.”
“There are two of them missing now?” he said. “That seems like a you problem to me.”
Josie pulled out her phone and brought up a photo of Savannah. She turned it toward Thomas. “You’re saying you haven’t seen this girl today?”
“Not today or any other day.”
“Then you won’t mind if we come in and have a look around?”
He stiffened. It was barely perceptible, but Josie saw it. A few beats went by. Josie spoke again. “Can we come in and look around, Mr. Thomas?”
Looking at his bare feet, he said, “Sure. Come on in.”
Josie waved for Gretchen to follow her. Inside, the cabin didn’t look much different than the last time Josie had been inside except for a blanket crumpled on the couch and two unwashed coffee mugs sitting in the sink. “You have company, Mr. Thomas?” Josie asked him.
He stood in the center of his kitchen, watching them. He didn’t answer.
They moved down the hall, checking both bedrooms, looking anywhere small enough for Savannah Patchett to be hidden. She wasn’t there.
In the bathroom, Josie checked the cabinet under the sink. Nothing. She pulled the shower curtain back to look in the tub and something flew at her, life-sized and thrashing, tearing the shower curtain down with it. Josie felt the impact of a body slamming into hers. They went crashing down, into the hallway. She heard Gretchen say, “Oh shit.”
Then came the screaming. Like an animal. Josie looked up to see that Kayleigh Patchett was straddling her. Her brown hair hung down, brushing Josie’s chest. Her lips peeled back from her teeth. Fingernails dug into Josie’s scalp and down the side of her face. She reached both arms up, folding them over top of Kayleigh’s forearms and levering them downward. At the same time, she planted one of her feet and bucked her hips, rolling the girl off her and onto the floor. The girl kicked and flailed, still trying to attack Josie. From the rear of the house, Gretchen approached just as Kayleigh got to her feet. One swift kick to the abdomen sent Gretchen onto her ass. Josie scrambled upright only to receive a swift kick in the ribs from Kayleigh. Her body knocked into one of the walls. Kayleigh ran toward the living room.
Josie regained her balance and sprinted after the girl. She was in the kitchen, yanking drawers out of their housing, sending silverware crashing to the floor. From the corner of the room, Henry Thomas stared, impassive and stock-still. Gretchen drew up beside Josie just as Kayleigh found the biggest knife in Thomas’s kitchen.
“Get out of my way,” she snarled. “Or I’ll stab you both.”
Josie and Gretchen drew their weapons. Thomas threw his hands in the air and edged as far away from Kayleigh as he could get. The mess of flatware at his feet didn’t give him much room. Josie took in Kayleigh’s appearance. She was thin—thinner than in her photos—and her brown hair looked clean and freshly washed, tumbling over her shoulders. Only her eyes looked hollowed out and tired. She wore a T-shirt and sweatpants that were several sizes too large. Thomas’s clothes. Like him, she had bare feet. Josie wondered how long she’d been at the cabin. Had she been inside when Josie came to question Thomas about the handprint?
“Kayleigh,” said Josie. “Put the knife down.”
She waved it at them. “You’re going shoot me if I don’t put it down? Is that it?”
“I’d rather not,” Josie said. “Kayleigh, the truth is that we just came here to talk.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true,” Gretchen said. “We know everything, Kayleigh. There’s no point in ending this in violence. We just want to talk to you. To hear your side of the story.”
“Isn’t it time that you told your side, Kayleigh?” Josie added.
“You bitches don’t know anything,” she said, but there was a tremor in her voice that hadn’t been there before.
“We know that Felicia Evans stole your StoryJot story,” Josie said. “The one about the twin princesses, ‘Reign.’ She passed it off as her own in a contest at school, which she won, and because of it, she got a spot at Denton University’s Youth Summer Writing program.”
