Her Silent Cry (Detective Josie Quinn #6)- Lisa Regan Page 0,94

the team Lamay put together found her. Luke Creighton’s dog sniffed her out in the woods. She was stabbed—”

“In the chest?” Josie interrupted, wincing with the effort the words took. She was almost home.

“Yeah. Missed her heart but caused a lot of trauma. The doctors said she’ll survive. She was left pretty deep in the woods. She tried to walk out but she was too weak from loss of blood so she took shelter under some bushes in case the killer came back and waited. That’s all they got out of her before she was transported to the hospital.”

Josie felt a wave of relief so profound, she felt like she could breathe again.

“Josie?” Noah said.

“That’s great,” she managed. “Have someone get her statement, would you? Gretchen, maybe, as she’s already at the hospital.”

“Will do,” Noah said.

“And can you call over to Dr. Feist’s office? Ask her to test the female suspect’s hands for gunshot residue, would you?”

She heard the sound of a page flipping over and knew he was writing her instructions down in his notebook. “You okay?” he asked again. “You sound strange.”

“I’m fine,” Josie said, even as pain webbed across her abdomen and into her lower back. “I just need to get changed. I got mud all over me up on that mountain.”

“All right,” Noah said. “Better check in when you’re done. Oaks is out in the field looking for this guy, and Chitwood and the FBI’s press liaison are trying to hammer something out to tell the reporters camped outside. We could use a cool head.”

Josie pulled into her driveway, relieved to see Misty’s vehicle there. “You’re the cool head,” Josie told him. “Tell them we don’t have enough information right now to make a statement. I’ll get there when I can.”

Fifty-Five

Once inside, Josie slumped against her door. From the living room, she heard the television playing. Seconds later, Misty appeared in the doorway, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, her blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun. “Josie? Oh my God, are you okay?”

Josie grimaced, holding her stomach. “Can you help me upstairs?”

Misty’s blue eyes widened as she came closer. “My God, you’re covered in blood. Should I call 911? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

Josie could hear panic raising the octaves of Misty’s voice with each question. She waved her free hand in the air. “I’m fine. It’s okay. It’s not my blood.”

“Oh,” Misty snapped. “Well that makes me feel better. I’m calling 911.”

“No, really. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine. I… fell. I just need help getting up to the bathroom and getting cleaned up. Please.”

“Should I call Noah?” Misty asked, putting a tentative arm around Josie’s waist.

“No, please,” Josie said. “You can help me. Where’s Harris?”

Misty guided her up the stairs slowly. “He’s asleep in the spare room.”

“Okay, good,” Josie said.

Once inside the bathroom, Josie sat on the edge of her bathtub. She tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I got shot,” she told Misty.

“Oh my God! Josie, you said this wasn’t your blood! You need to get to the—”

“I had a vest on. The bullet didn’t go through.”

Misty put a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God. What happened?”

“Help me get this shirt off, and I’ll tell you.”

As Misty helped her lift the shirt over her head, Josie gave her the abbreviated version of the day’s events. As she talked, Misty helped her take off her blood-splattered jeans. “I’m just going to throw these away,” Misty said. “Unless you want me to wash them.”

“No,” Josie said. “It’s fine.”

Misty wet a washcloth with hot water and handed it to Josie. She watched as Josie wiped her face and arms. “Josie,” Misty said. “This is not okay. Oh wow, look at your stomach.”

Josie looked down at her abdomen to see an angry red-purple bruise blooming across her skin. She placed a hand over it. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

Misty said, “I think you should go to the hospital. Get checked out. What if you’ve got an internal injury?”

“There’s something I need you to do for me first,” Josie said. “Please.”

Misty listened as Josie explained what she wanted her to do. Then she put a hand on her hip and said, “Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone else? Your grandmother? Your sister? Your mom?”

“No, thank you,” Josie said. “Please. Just do this for me.”

Misty backed out of the bathroom. “All right. Let me get you a change of clothes first. You’ll be okay if Harris