were three major broadcast networks in the United States with popular morning shows. The Bone Artist had delivered a note addressed to a male and female anchor at each of the three networks. Except the network that Trinity worked for. Only a male anchor had received a letter at Trinity’s network, not a female anchor. Josie found the photo of the envelope that note had come in and read the name: Hayden Keating.
Trinity’s co-anchor.
The Eudora was the nicest hotel in town, so it was likely he was staying there. A brief text exchange with Trinity’s assistant confirmed this. Josie started to get dressed, trading sweatpants for jeans, and a T-shirt for a Denton PD polo shirt. She strapped on her holster and found a light jacket in the closet. She ignored the dizziness that nearly knocked her to the ground when she bent to put her shoes on. She pocketed her cell phone and spent ten minutes looking for her keys before she remembered that she had no vehicle. Her Ford Escape had been totaled in yesterday’s accident. She would have to wait for a check from her insurance company and then go shopping for a new car.
She sank back onto her bed with a groan. Then she called Gretchen, quietly explaining what she wanted to do. “Boss,” Gretchen said, lowering her voice. “You know it’s my ass if I take you out on the town. You scared the hell out of everyone here. Noah will kill me if he finds out.”
“I’m not asking to go out on the town,” Josie said. “I’m asking you to take me with you on one interview. You’re secondary on this case. You’ll have to do the questioning anyway. I’m just asking to ride along.”
Laughter filtered through the line. “Sure, and if I don’t let you ride along?”
Josie sighed. “Gretchen, don’t make me walk to the Eudora Hotel. It’s a few miles from my house.”
Gretchen matched Josie’s sigh. “Fine. Meet me outside in fifteen minutes.”
“Around the block from my house,” Josie said. “If my parents get back before you get here, I’m busted.”
True to her word, Gretchen pulled up a block over from Josie’s house fifteen minutes later. Josie got in and thanked her. Gretchen drove off, pointing to a large Komorrah’s coffee cup in the console. “Drink that. It might help your headache.”
“How do you know I have a headache?” Josie asked as she picked up the cup.
“Because you have a concussion, that’s how,” Gretchen said. “Now drink. As soon as we’re done, I’m taking you home.”
“Thank you,” Josie said. She sipped from the cup, the taste and smell of the coffee making her feel somewhat restored.
“You sure about this?” Gretchen asked.
“Codie Lash was Hayden Keating’s co-anchor when the Bone Artist sent notes to all the networks. He sent a note to the male and female hosts of each national network morning show—except at Trinity’s network, where only Hayden Keating received one. That makes an uneven number of notes. I don’t think he really likes uneven numbers.”
“You mean because he only kills in even numbered years?”
“Right.”
“And he sent five letters to the press instead of six?”
“Yes. It’s off-balance, off-pattern.”
“Is it? He took Nicci Webb, Trinity, and then tried to take you. That’s three people. It’s uneven. That’s off-pattern. How can we know what his pattern is at all now?”
“But Trinity provoked him,” Josie said. “She’s the break in the pattern.”
“Nicci Webb’s remains were found seventeen days after she went missing, not thirty. That’s off-pattern as well,” Gretchen argued.
Josie sighed and rubbed her temples. “He’s off-pattern now, yes, but I’m talking about six years ago when he was at the height of his known activity. He had a strict formula then. Even numbers were important to him so why would he send the male and female hosts of the other two networks letters but only send a letter to the male host of the final network?”
“Codie Lash got a letter.”
“That’s what I think,” Josie agreed. “Why else would Trinity be looking into her?”
“You think Hayden Keating knew that Codie Lash got a letter and didn’t tell the police?”
“I don’t know,” Josie said. “It seems unlikely but then again, she was killed in a mugging gone wrong a couple of weeks after the press received their letters. Maybe he didn’t think it was relevant. Or maybe he didn’t know. We’ll find out.”
“We have to be careful with him,” Gretchen said. “Mettner still doesn’t want the press to know that the Bone Artist is involved. If