Page 78 of Her Dying Secret

“Holy shit,” said Gretchen.

Noah touched the area on the map. “Plenty of room here for someone to park a truck. When the trees were still there, they probably hid it nicely.”

Turner said, “I was there with you, Quinn. That whole area is open. There’s no way Mira and Rosie are just sitting over there.”

“Not there,” Josie said. She trailed her finger from the small black square representing the demolished shed, over the bank, and across a wide portion of water to an island in the middle of the river. It was one of those small rocky areas that rose up from the river in many places throughout the year. Most ended up submerged whenever the water levels rose. “Here. When we were out with Luke and Blue, I thought this was part of the bank where the shed is—that it was all one piece of land, sort of like a big peninsula reaching halfway across the water. Because of the bend in the river and where I was standing when I looked at it, I couldn’t see that it wasn’t part of the bank at all. It’s actually an island in the middle of the river and it’s directly across from the part of the bank with the destroyed shed and tree stumps.”

With Rosie’s drawing lined up next to the aerial view, it looked like a perfect match.

“Are you crazy, sweetheart?”

“But those islands aren’t permanent,” Noah said. “The majority of them aren’t. They’re subject to the water level, and a good deal of the time they’re underwater.”

Gretchen tapped her finger against the Google Maps view of the island. It was much smaller than what Josie had seen the other day. Then again, the Google Maps view was at least a year old. “That’s exactly why it’s the perfect place to hide. Plus, we’re talking about Seth Lee here. It doesn’t have to be permanent. It just has to be outdoors. Bonus if it’s so close to his brother’s place and somewhere he can keep an eye on the police officer he buried there.”

Josie looked down at Turner. “Remember the river foam? We couldn’t differentiate it from the other smells?—”

“You mean the horseshit.”

“But it has a distinct odor. I smelled it on April at the accident scene and again on Seth right before he attacked me in Mira’s house. They’re here. They’re on the river but in a place no one would ever think to look.”

Turner got closer, wedging himself between Josie and Noah. “How do they get onto it? They swim?”

Josie pointed at the drawing where the gray line connected the black and brown rings, which Josie was certain represented the island, and the area with the light brown circles. “They have something. They must have a boat or something—at least to get April over there—but maybe Seth had some kind of line rigged up so they could just pull themselves across. The point is I think this is where they are. Mira stopped here.” Josie tapped the pin and then drew an imaginary line from it to the island. “Which lines up almost perfectly with the island. I think Rosie was still there. I don’t think she was with Seth the day of the stabbing, but Mira had a map. She might have checked it out before, maybe waiting for her chance to get over there and get Rosie.”

Noah said, “But she was losing blood and April was dying.”

“And she had no way to cross the river,” Gretchen added. “So she went back to the car.”

“We know the rest,” Turner said impatiently. “Let’s get everyone we can find and get them out of there!”

FIFTY-EIGHT

Despite Turner’s enthusiasm, he stayed behind at the stationhouse, nursing his leg, while Josie, Noah, and Gretchen headed out toward the riverbank with two ambulances just in case Rosie and Mira were injured. The police department didn’t have its own Marine Unit, but the city’s Emergency Services Department, well-equipped for carrying out flood rescues, had everything they needed. Within an hour, a city truck towing an inflatable rescue boat pulled onto the bank, skirting the demolished shed and tree stumps and jostling the eight-foot burnweed plants hard enough to send tufts of white flowers airborne all around them. For several minutes, it looked as if it was snowing. The clumps stuck to everyone’s hair and clothes.

The emergency services crew set up on the bank, distributing life jackets to Josie, Noah and Gretchen. Josie had kept a careful eye on the island, hoping to glimpse Mira or Rosie or any movement, but there was nothing. A cold dread crept up her spine. Seth might have been an unwilling participant in some of Deirdre’s crimes, but he had still shown himself capable of violence. Had he killed them and then hidden himself away at Furnished Finds?

“This won’t take long,” said Mitch Brownlow, tapping the side of his boat to indicate that they could get in. He was one of the city’s longest-tenured and most experienced swiftwater rescue experts. His personality left something to be desired, but there was nowhere safer on the river than with him.

Josie didn’t know the other guy working with Mitch, but he helped each one of them on board, starting with Noah. Josie went next, followed by Gretchen. Mitch smirked at her. “You’re the one who turns green, aren’t you?”

Gretchen tightened the straps of her life jacket as she settled in. “I promise to vomit over the side.”

Moments later, the motor revved to life and Josie’s body bounced against the side of the boat as Mitch steered them toward the small island. There was no time for Gretchen to get sick. The island was close enough that they probably could have swum across, if not for the current and the fact that they had to rescue two people whose conditions were unknown.

“We’ll wait here,” Mitch said as they hopped out.

They left their life jackets with him and picked their way across the rock-strewn ground. When they reached the tree line, Josie turned and looked at the riverbank. Now she had a wider view of it. There were their police vehicles; the Emergency Services Department vehicle; and the two ambulances. The remnants of the shed. The grove of tree stumps. Then a wall of burnweed and beyond that a cluster of tall, healthy trees, undisturbed by the clear-cutting and demolition. Among them, Josie spotted something metallic and blue. A car.

Gretchen walked past her and stumbled, the rocks under her feet shifting. Josie’s hand shot out, grabbing her arm and keeping her upright. “Wait.”

Noah and Gretchen turned. Josie pointed at the car.

Shading her eyes with one hand, Gretchen said, “Is that a Chevy Cavalier?”

Noah took a few steps to the side, trying to get a better angle. “This must be the ‘auto repair shop’ owned by Deirdre Velis’s ‘friend.’”

“Is Deirdre’s Cavalier blue?”

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