Page 55 of Remember Her Name

Josie nodded, lifting her phone to read the rest of the messages. There was no way to identify the killer from theHarper’s Peak footage, given the position of the camera and the fact that he was wearing a hat. It was nighttime, so it was very likely no one saw them, though Noah had sent units to discreetly speak with the Griffin Hall guests.

“The kid wasn’t with them.” Gretchen scrolled through her own messages.

“It might have been hard for the killer to control both of them, even with a gun, given the distance they’d have to travel on foot, in the dark, from Griffin Hall to the church.”

More texts from Noah populated her screen and Josie read through them as quickly as they came. “The car he used to drive to Harper’s Peak is registered to a man named Greg Downey, Denton resident. Sent someone to his home. Should have word any minute.”

In the meantime, the ERT would impound Downey’s vehicle to see if DNA, fingerprints, or any other evidence could be collected that might help their investigation. More waiting.

“Excuse me. Detectives?”

Dr. Nashat, the emergency department’s attending physician, stood behind them smiling politely.

Josie said, “How is he?”

“He’s stable.” Dr. Nashat folded his hands at his waist. “He has some broken ribs and a fracture to his pelvis, but no internal injuries. The wounds on his forearms are superficial. The one to his hand is quite serious. I’m not sure if he’ll regain full function or not. They’ve already taken him up for surgery.”

A barbed spike of sadness lodged itself in Josie’s heart. Seventeen, and facing the possibility that he could lose some function in one of his hands.

Josie’s phone chirped again. She took it out, quickly reading the latest text from Noah.

Brennan made contact with Greg Downey. Forty years old. Tax attorney. Resides with his mother. Says his car was in the shop. Owner of the shop confirms it was stolen from their lot during the night.

Something in the back of her mind crept forward, a connection asking to be made.

Gretchen said, “How long will he be in surgery?”

Josie fired off a response to Noah.Which shop?

“It’s very difficult to say. If you check back in an hour from now, I’ll know more,” Dr. Nashat offered.

Gretchen thanked him for his time just as Noah’s response came back. Schock’s Auto Repair. Same one Sheila Hampton used.

As the doctor walked away, Josie tapped in a reply.We’re headed there now.

FORTY-ONE

A plume of cold air shot down the back of Josie’s neck as she and Gretchen walked into Schock’s Auto Repair. The guy at the front desk didn’t even look up from his phone when they asked whether the owner was present or not, though his nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something foul. “Nah,” he said. “He’s at lunch.”

“How about Edgar Garcia?” asked Gretchen. “He here?”

“In the back,” he mumbled, pointing to a glass door on their right. Neither Josie nor Gretchen questioned him. Instead, they pushed through the door and made their way down a hallway that smelled like old tires and motor oil.

“What are you thinking?” asked Gretchen. “We can’t put Garcia at any of the crime scenes. His prints inside Sheila Hampton’s car aren’t a surprise. If they’re in Greg Downey’s that won’t be shocking either since he works here.”

“I’m not trying to put him at any of the scenes,” Josie said. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the possible accomplice. That was the only angle they truly hadn’t explored, mostly because it had seemed like they couldn’t figure out who it was unless they figured out the identity of the killer. But that wasn’t true. All they had to do was put themselves in the killer’s shoes. What would he need help with? Getting away from hisremote crime scenes. What would be the best way for a helper to go about doing that without getting caught, particularly in a geofence? The killer didn’t need to know what a geofence was to be able to avoid it. He only needed to understand that electronic devices were ubiquitous and that whether you consented or not, you were trackable at all times while in possession of any one of them.

“Well, since two of the stolen cars left at the crime scenes were worked on here,” Gretchen said, “maybe we should be trying to put him at the scenes.”

Josie hadn’t met Garcia before but he hadn’t gotten so much as a parking ticket since he got out of prison. She’d checked his social media before they left the hospital. It was locked down pretty tight, but she was able to view a few posts of him with his daughter. Josie guessed she was about four or five years old. She had the same black hair as her father except hers was curly whereas his was straight. The same eyes, too, and when she looked at her father, they brimmed with adoration.

“I don’t think Garcia would knowingly get involved with murder,” Josie said. “There’s nothing in it for him, but he might be helping the killer some other way.”

“I hope your hunch is right,” Gretchen said as she pushed open the door to the repair bays. “Because right now all we have is speculation and another shitty polaroid—at least until Jared Rowe is out of surgery and can tell us something helpful.”

Somehow, Josie didn’t think the boy was going to have anything to tell them that might help them find the killer.

The air inside the large bay area felt at least ten degrees hotter than the rest of the building. Music filtered through Bluetooth speakers mounted in the four corners, playing a song Josie didn’t recognize. Someone whistled along with it. There were three vehicles lined up. One of them was on a lift, its tires at eye level as Josie and Gretchen passed. A Jeep sat in the nextslot, its hood open. In the last bay, a pair of heavy boots stuck out from beneath an old Pontiac. Their owner stopped whistling and started singing along with the radio.

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