Find Her Alive (Detective Josie Quinn #8) - Lisa Regan Page 0,92
someone to pick her up. Josie had spoken at length with Shannon, Christian, and Patrick the evening before about their strategy. They, too, had agreed to appear on camera in the background while Josie spoke.
Josie stood in the Chief’s office on the second floor of the station house, watching the press assemble on the street below. Her stomach felt as if it were filled with butterflies. She heard someone’s footsteps behind her and braced herself for the Chief’s ire for having invaded his space. Instead, she heard Noah’s voice. “Are you almost ready?”
Josie turned and managed a tight smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He stepped further into the room. “It’s almost time.”
She took his arm when he offered it and together, they walked down to the lobby. Chief Chitwood, Mettner, Gretchen, Drake, Shannon, Christian, and Bobbi Ingram had all gathered there. Hayden Keating stood slightly apart from the others, scrolling away on his phone. He wore a subdued gray suit with a shiny lapel pin bearing the initials CL. Josie walked over and greeted him, taking a closer look at it. He pointed to the pin and said, “The network had these made after Codie was murdered. We all wore them for a year after her death. Is this sufficient?”
“It’s perfect,” Josie said. “Thank you.”
Josie felt a light tap on the shoulder, a welcome interruption. She didn’t want to talk to Hayden any more than she absolutely had to. She turned to see Monica Webb, dressed smartly in pressed black slacks, two-inch heels, and a form-fitting purple blouse. Josie could see the smears beneath her eyes where she had cried and then tried to clean her runny mascara. State Police detective Heather Loughlin had brought her to the station several hours ago while one of her friends watched young Annabelle. Josie and Gretchen had sat down with her and broken the news that they believed the Bone Artist had killed her mother. As she had done at her home in Keller Hollow, she’d excused herself, gone to the bathroom to have a cry, and returned with a determined tilt to her chin. “I’ll do anything I can to help you catch this bastard,” she had told them.
Now, standing before Josie, she looked much older than twenty-one. “How are you holding up?” Josie asked.
Monica’s gaze swept toward the floor. “Not great,” she admitted. “But it’s better being here.” She waved a hand around them. “Everyone is so busy. It makes me feel like something is getting done to find my mom’s killer.”
Josie touched Monica’s arm. “It is,” she said. “We’re doing everything we can, and it’s a big help having you here.”
Monica met Josie’s eyes. She held her hand out and uncurled her fist so Josie could see a large brooch in her palm. It was a dark blue, oval-shaped polished stone with multiple striations all through it. Cradling it was thin copper wire, twisted into various whorls, much like the larger wire Josie had seen in Nicci Webb’s back yard. “My mom made this,” Monica said.
“It’s beautiful,” Josie breathed, leaning in for a closer look.
“I thought you could wear it,” Monica told her. “During the press conference.”
“Oh,” Josie said, standing up straight and putting a hand to her chest. “I’d be honored.”
Monica pinned the brooch to Josie’s lapel. Noah walked over. “Where’s Patrick?” he asked.
Josie panned the room. “Has anyone seen Patrick?” she asked.
Everyone else looked around as well. Shannon said, “He’s not here yet?”
Christian took out his phone. “I’m going to throttle this kid.” Just as he began to punch in his passcode, the front door opened. A whoosh of air burst into the room, followed by the cacophony of the press outside anxiously waiting for Josie to emerge. Patrick stood there, wearing khaki pants and a navy blue polo shirt instead of his usual jeans and sweatshirt. His normally shaggy hair was combed neatly to the side. Josie had a sudden flash of what Trinity would say if she saw him like this—she’d make fun of him, for sure. Probably ask him if he was getting his school picture taken or something like that. In his hands was a cardboard box.
“Where the hell have you been?” Christian demanded.
Ignoring their father, Patrick walked over to Josie and handed her the box. “I made something for you. I thought about all the stuff you told us last night and about your plan. I thought this might help.”
She opened it, gasping and nearly dropping the box when she saw what