seeing him months ago. He had nothing to do with Lucy. He never even met her, and he would never do something like this anyway.”
“Why should I believe you?” Colin spat back. “How can I believe anything you say? How do I know you weren’t having an affair with this guy? Maybe you two cooked up this scheme to get Lucy and my money.”
“That’s crazy,” Amy responded. “You’re acting insane. Why would I do something like that?”
The sound of Josie’s phone ringing cut through the tension. It was Gretchen. “We’ve got Graham. He’s safe. We’ll keep him at the station for now.”
“I’ll be right there,” Josie told Gretchen. She hung up and looked from one parent to the other. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “If I were you two, I’d focus on gathering the ransom. Lucy is still alive. Stop fighting and let’s bring her home.”
Forty-Two
As Josie drove toward the police headquarters, her phone chirped several times. After weaving through the press vehicles, she pulled into the municipal lot and snatched her phone from the passenger’s seat. Several text messages from Trinity had come in, including a photo. Josie turned her vehicle off, took a deep breath and read through them.
Amy’s not who she says she is.
It took hours but I found something in the Fulton Daily News Archives.
Check this out. Dorothy Walsh had three daughters: Renita, Amy and Pamela. Dorothy, Amy and Pamela all died in a car accident.
Then came a screenshot of the news article that Trinity had uncovered. It was dated October 27, 1997. The headline read: Three Women Killed in Car Crash in South Fulton. Her eyes skimmed the contents of the article. “Good God,” she murmured. The article named all three of the Walsh women and gave their funeral arrangements, but there was nothing beyond that. No mention of any other passengers although Josie assumed Amy Ross wasn’t with the Walsh women when the accident happened.
She texted Trinity:
I need a name. Amy knows we know she’s using a false identity, but I can’t get a name out of her. We believe that Amy Ross was friends with the real Amy Walsh. Time is critical. The FBI is on it, but you’ve already got a lead with Renita. Did she call back?
Several seconds passed. Josie didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until Trinity’s reply came back.
Headed to speak to Renita now.
Josie breathed out, pocketed her phone and went inside to speak to Bryce Graham. Gretchen and Mettner stood outside the first-floor conference room door. Mettner handed her a cup of coffee. The smell caused an instant wave of nausea to crash over her. For a fleeting second, her brain told her this couldn’t possibly be from stress. It had to be the other thing. A baby. Whose baby? Noah’s… or maybe Luke’s? No, she couldn’t go there. Not yet. Not now. Josie white-knuckled the mug and managed a smile. “Thanks, Mett.”
He nodded. “I just talked to one of the FBI agents at Graham’s house. Back door was kicked in, lock broken. Nothing appears disturbed in the house. There’s an overturned chair in the kitchen where the phone is located. They didn’t find any, uh, cocoons. That’s it.”
The sound of Lucy’s screams filled her mind, making Josie feel even more ill. She hated to think about how the chair had been overturned.
“The FBI team is processing the scene,” Gretchen added. “We talked to Dr. Graham briefly. We had to convince him that he’d be safer here.”
“Thanks,” Josie said. “Let me talk to him.”
Bryce Graham sat placidly in one of the conference room chairs, an untouched cup of coffee in front of him. He stood to shake her hand when Josie introduced herself. She sat down beside him and put her coffee mug on the table, pushing it far enough away that the smell wouldn’t reach her.
“What can I do for you, detective?” Graham asked. He smiled at her, the skin at the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. His expression and the tone of his voice was kind and soothing. No wonder so many of the volunteers had spoken with him.
“Amy Ross was your patient,” Josie said. “You’ve been hanging around the park since her daughter went missing, and yet you never approached her, and you never mentioned to anyone in law enforcement that she had been your patient.”
“Is there a question in there, Detective?” Graham asked. His smile and gentle tone told her he wasn’t being confrontational.
“Why didn’t you approach Amy Ross when