asked. “The police acquired his Army records and said it was listed there.”
Linda shrugged. “Yes. It didn’t seem to hold him back in any way. We found out he had red/green color blindness when he was a kid, but the topic rarely came up after that. Kids adjust, I guess, and it wasn’t a big deal. I never even thought about it. Our father had it too. It runs almost exclusively in the male side of the family. His son would have likely had it too.” Her eyes widened suddenly, obviously realizing what she just said. She grasped her hands in her lap. “Anyway, it . . . it was his stutter that distressed him, because it was the stutter other people judged him on.”
Josie bit at her lip, her forehead creased, as she stared behind Linda, obviously recalling something. “He couldn’t see red . . .” she murmured.
Linda shook her head. “No. He couldn’t tell red from gray. Why? Did the man who abducted you remark on something red?” She looked at Josie hopefully.
Josie didn’t answer her question, still pensive. “If he couldn’t see red or green, but if something or another was likely green, say a leaf, or grass, would he guess? Would he call it green even if it looked gray to him because he’d figure it was his color blindness giving him the wrong information?”
Linda frowned. “I . . . guess. Maybe. I don’t really know how to answer that.”
Josie looked mildly relieved as though she’d just supplied a plausible answer to a question. The question of how Landish had known the color of her underwear, or guessed. Zach’s skin prickled. He supposed he understood her reasoning. If Landish had looked at her undergarments and they’d appeared gray to him, it was more likely they were red and not green. He’d have made the same guess, he supposed. Sort of a leap maybe but . . . it worked as an explanation.
“Thank you, Linda. I appreciate you answering my questions so honestly. For your time.” Josie paused, her eyes moving to the mantel where there were several photos. She stood and Linda did too, following her to the place where there was an eight by ten headshot of a boy in a cap and gown. Josie picked it up, brought it closer. Only her profile was to him, but Zach saw her neck move as she swallowed. She replaced the photo on the mantel, her hand trembling slightly.
She turned toward Zach. “We should go.”
Zach waited until they were back in the car, pulling away from the curb. “What is it?” he asked quietly. There was something haunted in her eyes, and it’d been there since she’d looked closely at that photo.
“His eyes.” She shook her head. “They weren’t right. The color was . . . similar. But, not exact.”
Zach frowned, his hands tightening on the wheel. “Josie, it’s been a long time—”
“No.” Her voice burst forth and she took a deep breath. “No. His eyes were all I could see of his face. I . . . I can’t forget them. I’ve never looked at Marshall’s photo up close like that. And . . . no. They’re not right. Something was off. Zach”—she looked at him, shock and fear in her expression—“those weren’t Marshall’s eyes staring out of that mask.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The farmhouse wavered in the afternoon sun, the trees surrounding it swaying softly in the breeze. At the sight of it, something in Josie clicked into place causing peace to spread through her body. At first she didn’t recognize the feeling. But then she realized what it was—homecoming. She was home. She wondered if she’d ever had the feeling before and couldn’t recall if she had. It felt good, necessary, a balm to her soul. This was her home. And whatever it meant she had to do, she was going to fight for it.
Jimmy was waiting on the porch for them, and he raised his hand when they pulled into the driveway. Zach had called his boss the night before, and he had approved Josie leaving the safehouse. Zach had completed his interviews in Tennessee and would keep in touch with the police there now investigating the case of the missing girl. There hadn’t been a peep from the suspect, the campus had gotten budgetary approval to add some of their own security, which meant the police could patrol more areas, and whatever flu had taken out surrounding forces had passed.