pulled herself up further until they were face to face.
“Hold on to me,” Trinity said.
They wrapped their arms around one another. Trinity’s cheek was freezing against Josie’s. She felt sobs wracking Trinity’s body. Her own body responded in kind until they were both weeping.
From somewhere below, Drake hollered, “Quinn! Stay where you are. This whole thing is unstable. Don’t move. We’re getting ladders. Just hold on.”
Into Trinity’s ear, Josie said, “I’m sorry for the way we left things when you walked out of my house.”
“Me too,” Trinity said.
“I know what the worst thing that ever happened to you was—it was me being taken as a child.”
Trinity’s arms tightened around her. “Yes,” she breathed.
“I know what the best thing that ever happened to you was—it was when we were reunited.”
Trinity laughed. “You’re wrong,” she said.
Josie heard the clang of an aluminum ladder against the tree and felt its vibration near her feet.
Trinity said, “You rescuing me from a serial killer is the best thing that ever happened to me.”
Sixty-Four
One Week Later
Trout chased a tennis ball across Josie and Noah’s yard. Once he retrieved it, he weaved through the crush of bodies on the patio and found Patrick, depositing the ball into Patrick’s lap. Laughing, Patrick tossed it again. This time, after he caught it, he searched out Josie, sitting in a folding chair at one of the card tables that Noah had set up in their backyard. He put the ball between her feet and nudged one of her hands with his head. Josie scratched between his ears. Across from her, Trinity raised a brow. “I don’t think Trout likes me. He hasn’t brought that ball over to me once.”
Josie laughed. “He’s food-motivated. Give him some of that hamburger you’ve got there, and you won’t be able to get rid of him.”
Trinity used a fork to carve out a small piece of her hamburger which she dangled beneath the table. Trout ran over and swallowed it without even chewing, making Trinity laugh. Trinity looked down at him. “Oh you’re right. He’s looking at me like he wants to get married.”
“Told you,” Josie said.
They sat in silence, looking around at their friends, family, and colleagues eating, drinking, and celebrating Trinity’s safe return. They’d been lucky to get warm weather. Noah manned the barbecue, doling out food. Nearby, Gretchen and Mettner ribbed one another. Even Bob Chitwood had come. He stood listening to something Lisette said. In another corner of the yard, Drake held Shannon and Christian’s attention.
Trinity said, “This is nice.”
“Yes,” Josie agreed. “It is.”
“I’m going to ruin it by talking about the case but I have to know—did the DNA from the combs match any of the known victims?”
Josie nodded. “Yes, both were from mirror victims. All of the mirror victims’ remains were found in the tree blind where he had tied you up.”
Trinity hugged herself. “Were there any more victims? Any no one knew about?”
“No. The arboretum property as well as the hundred acres that Hanna Cahill left Alex were searched very thoroughly. We don’t believe there are any other victims. All of them are accounted for; the identities of the mirror victims have been confirmed; and soon their remains will be returned to their families.”
“That’s good,” Trinity whispered. “I’m glad that their families will have closure, at least.”
“Did you know about the mirror victims when he took you?” Josie asked.
“Yes, I’d figured it out. I had handwritten notes on them. They were in the boxes. I was hoping he’d leave them so you’d see the trail that led to him, but he took all my notes, all my materials on his case.”
“When did you know that the Bone Artist was the boy you met at the nature preserve when you were fourteen?”
“I didn’t truly know until he drove up the driveway to the cabin and got out. When I saw his face—his scar—I knew immediately it was Max.”
“But you suspected,” Josie said. “Is that why you became so obsessed with the case?”
Trinity looked away for a moment, her gaze drifting over toward Drake, a flash of regret sweeping across her features. “It was dumb luck. I had an argument on air with a correspondent about the Bone Artist. She said he was dead and that’s why he stopped killing. I didn’t believe that. I was venting to Drake about the whole thing over dinner later that night. That’s when he told me it was his case. It wasn’t hard to get him to discuss it. Pretty soon, I convinced