Page 30 of Her Dying Secret

“Like a year,” Josie said.

“Exactly.” Anya pulled up X-rays of April’s right shoulder and collarbone. “Could be more or slightly less. If it had gone on much longer, I’m not sure she would have survived. Here.” She pointed to where the ball of the shoulder met the collarbone. A portion of April’s ribs was also visible. Between them and the humerus, the edge of the scapula could be seen. Just below the shoulder joint was a thick, dark line that otherwise marred the hazy whiteness of the bones. Anya pulled up a view of the left scapula, showing a mirror image.

Noah said, “Are those fractures?”

“Pseudofractures,” Anya answered. “Also called ‘Milkman lines’ after an American radiologist who presented his findings on them all the way back in the 1930s. Also sometimes called ‘Looser’s zones’ after a Swiss doctor named Emil Looser. These are incomplete fractures. They never heal properly or completely because, since the bone is demineralized, new bone never strengthens. A pseudofracture alone is not enough to diagnose osteomalacia unless they are bilateral and symmetrical and found in what are considered classic locations like this or the ribs or ulna.”

“Would it have been painful?” asked Josie.

“Yes,” said Anya. “Although April was probably in agony from her body slowly wasting away and shutting down as well.”

Noah’s eyes flared with anger. “Imagine stabbing someone in this condition.”

Josie sidled over to him and discreetly touched his hand. Looking back at Anya, she asked, “Would April have been able to walk? Before or after she was stabbed?”

Anya shook her head and snapped her laptop closed. “That is impossible to say. If she was able to walk, it would not have been very far. Once she was stabbed, I doubt she would have been able to walk at all.”

“Was there anything in her stomach?” asked Josie.

Anya winced. “Mud. Some grass.”

Josie said, “Which means that, at least recently, she’d been kept somewhere that she could access mud and grass.”

“Right,” said Anya.

Josie could feel Noah getting more agitated, rage rolling off him in waves. He took a step away from them and pushed his fingers through his thick brown locks.

“We’ll find the person who did this,” Josie promised him.

“Then we’ll make him pay,” Noah added.

TWENTY-TWO

The heady smell of roses invaded Josie’s senses. It was welcome after their visit to the morgue. She counted a half dozen red rose bushes along the walk to the quaint, white two-story house where Heather had asked to meet. It had Josie thinking of the flower on the child’s drawing while she and Noah waited on the sidewalk. Was it a rose? What was the significance of it?

“This place is so quiet,” Noah muttered, looking up and down the street. He was right. The only noise was the sound of birds chattering in the branches of maple trees that lined the street. Josie hadn’t been to Newsham many times but to her, it always looked like one of those cute, sleepy towns from a rom-com where the heroine retreats after a big breakup to put her life back together.

Is that what April Carlson was doing here? According to what Josie gleaned from various sources on the way here, while Noah drove, she’d spent her entire life in a small town called Hillcrest which was in Bucks County. It wasn’t lost on Josie that Mira Summers also hailed from Bucks County, and Seth Lee’s last known address was in Doylestown—the county seat. It was a loose connection among the three of them, but it was worth looking into if other leads didn’t pan out. Seth’s brother lived in Denton but what had brought Mira and April out here?

“This is April’s last known address,” Noah said, interrupting Josie’s thoughts. “That’s why Heather wanted to meet here.”

She took another look at the large porch with its black roof, white pillars, and painted green decking. There was no outdoor furniture but a security camera had been installed over the door. Someone was definitely maintaining the rose garden. Was it a coincidence that this place had a rose garden and that a red flower had been in the drawing?

“We really must stop meeting this way.” Detective Heather Loughlin strode down the pavement toward them, a grim smile on her face.

“I wish we could,” Josie said.

Heather’s eyes were drawn to the roses. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I only like the other colors now, though. The red reminds me too much of blood. Dr. Feist told me April was a match for her Jane Doe and that it was a homicide, but didn’t say much else. I knew the outcome wouldn’t be good, but I hoped that April might still be alive.”

It was the outcome they all wished for—every time—but it rarely happened.

Heather let out a long breath, lifting her face to the sky. Her blonde ponytail swished along her upper back. “Sometimes I really hate this job.”

Noah jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “Same.”

The sound of a doorbell had Josie looking toward the house.

“That’s me.” Heather took her phone from her back pocket and replied to a text. “Funny, right? I always know it’s my phone though. Anyway, Dr. Feist will call the Bucks County coroner and they’ll give April’s parents the death notification. You mind telling me what she found on the autopsy?”

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