Page 70 of Remember Her Name

“I promise you, it’s not,” said Gretchen.

“Good night, Detectives.” Bowen started to close the door.

Josie muscled her way between Gretchen and Turner and wedged her foot between the door and its frame. “Bowen, please. Hear me out.”

A pale face, framed by brown curls, glared at her from over Bowen’s shoulder. “What isshedoing here?”

“Sheworks for the Denton Police Department,” Turner said. “Sheis here doing her job.Youare making it harder by not listening to us. Go check on your fucking kids.”

“Turner,” Gretchen admonished, but her tone was soft.

Josie kept her foot inside the door. She was grateful for the thickness of her boot because Andrew Bowen continued to try to close the door on it. Still, it smarted. Quashing her desire to pull it back, Josie tried to keep her tone reasonable, unemotional. There was a lot of history between the two of them, none of it good. If the Bowens weren’t inclined to listen to Turner or Gretchen, then there was little to no chance of them entertaining Josie’s explanation, but she had to try. There could be a girl out there, already dead, or at the mercy of a killer.

Josie wasn’t leaving her post again.

“Please,” she said. “Mr. and Mrs. Bowen. You know I would not be here unless it was critically important. You can keep hating me. Call me every name in the book. Spit on me.” She inhaled sharply as Bowen increased pressure on her foot. “Crush my foot.”

Turner’s long arm reached around her and pushed the door, easily sending Bowen stumbling backward. He bumped into his wife, who cried out. “Are you crazy?”

Josie said, “The person who killed Cleo Tate, Stella Townsend, and Everly Rowe is targeting people involved in the Cook family murders. Do you remember that case, Bowen?”

He blinked again, paling. “Roger Bell was my client.”

“I don’t remember that,” Evelyn said, wrapping a hand around his upper arm.

“I’d only been practicing a couple of years. Bell didn’t have much money. He couldn’t afford me, really, but I needed the work and no one else would take his case.”

“Because he was a murderer,” Gretchen said.

Turner scoffed. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a problem for defense attorneys.”

Evelyn stared at the side of her husband’s face. “That’s unusual, isn’t it? That no one else wanted his case?”

Andrew blew out a breath. “Not because of guilt or innocence. Everyone is entitled to legal representation. It was because he was broke. He was acquitted.”

Josie flexed her foot. “That doesn’t mean he wasn’t guilty.”

“Andrew?” Evelyn said, a question in her voice.

Andrew Bowen remained impassive. Josie was certain Bell wasn’t the only guilty person Bowen had successfully defended. Maybe the most violent, but not the only one.

“Someone is killing the children and grandchildren of everyone connected to the Cook case,” Josie said. “Not just those of us who screwed up at the scene that day.”

“Kellan Neal—Cleo Tate’s father—was the prosecutor,” Gretchen said. “He failed to keep the murder weapon in evidence.”

Bowen swallowed. “I’m terribly sorry that Kellan’s daughter was killed. He’s a good man and he was an admirable opponent in the courtroom, but this has nothing to do with me or my family. I did my job. All of you did not.”

“You’re really thick, Counselor,” Turner said. “It’s because you did your job so well that we think you’re the next target. Not you, specifically, but one of your kids. Probably the oldest girl. You’ve got daughters, right?”

Before Bowen could answer, Evelyn was gone. All Josie could see were the backs of her calves as she raced up the steps in the grand foyer behind her husband.

Bowen didn’t react. Like Kellan Neal, he was a skilled litigator, a master at concealing his true emotions. “We have one daughter. Our oldest. Juliet. She’s sixteen.”

Evelyn’s screams cut through the stillness of the house. Josie felt them like a thousand daggers piercing her heart. It didn’t matter to her that the Bowens hated her or that Andrew had consistently proven himself to be morally questionable—his career as a defense attorney notwithstanding. At the end of the day, they were just parents whose lives would be irreparably shattered when they lost their child.

No.Ifthey lost their child.

Josie knew her optimism was misguided and unrealistic but she couldn’t help it.

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