Page 63 of Remember Her Name

“This is it!” she said. “This is it!”

Gretchen leapt from her chair and hurried over. Noah leaned in closer. Josie picked up a pen from her desk and threw it at Turner, hitting him square in the chest. He bolted upright, phone tumbling to the floor. “What the hell?”

“Josie found the case,” Gretchen told him.

He looked down at the pen in his lap. “Did you do this?”

“Shut the hell up and get over here. Come on.”

Josie thought he was going to argue. Arguing with Gretchen was definitely his favorite thing next to scrolling on his phone. Instead, he stood, snatched his phone from the floor and walked around the desks, taking up position directly behind her.

“Look,” Josie said, clicking through the crime scene photos.

Gretchen turned toward the corkboard briefly. “The positions of the bodies are pretty much identical.”

“This is the one,” Noah said.

“What case are we talking about?” asked Turner.

The more photos that flashed across the screen, the more Josie remembered about the case. She didn’t need to check the reports to know she’d been the responding officer.

“The Cook family,” she said. “The Cook family murders.”

FORTY-SEVEN

They were at the motel again. Different room, same sheets made practically of sandpaper. She didn’t care. He was more passionate this time. It was almost as if his feelings finally matched hers. When they were finished, she collapsed into a boneless heap next to him. Her chest heaved, perspiration covered her body, and the euphoria going off like fireworks in her head made her feel high.

He poured her a glass of wine from a bottle he’d brought with him. He’d remembered the opener but hadn’t brought glasses so he used the small foam coffee cups the motel stocked in every room. Pretty fancy considering how seedy the place was on the outside.

They sat beside one another, backs leaning against the headboard. He held out his cup and she touched it with hers, giggling. “What are we toasting to?”

“To the beginning.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. The beginning of them? But her hopes were dashed when he added, “Of the plan.”

Stiffening, she refused to taste any more of the wine, even though he’d brought her favorite. Then she remembered how he’d confided in her and no one else. It didn’t matter that she’dgiven him little choice, it only mattered that they were here now, talking about something sacred to him, and she was a part of it. A part of his life again, finally.

His eyes glazed over as he stared straight ahead, envisioning the havoc he’d wreak, no doubt. After a moment, he blinked and came back to her. “Did you find him? The monster?”

Abandoning her earlier disappointment, she sipped more wine. It was the only name on his list that he truly cared about. It meant everything to him, and he meant everything to her. She knew the bloodshed that could be avoided if she gave him what he wanted.

“I did.” She placed her cup on the nightstand and turned so she could look deeply into his eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love. He died ten years ago. Car accident.”

A vein in his temple throbbed. His features turned to stone.

“I truly am sorry. But it’s not over. There are the others.”

He said nothing.

Desperate to bring him back to her, she rattled off the names on the list. It was their mental list. She wasn’t ever to put it in writing anywhere, so she’d committed it to memory. When she still got no response, she repeated it.

Finally, the life returned to his eyes. He recited the names after her, leaving three of them off.

“You forgot a few of them,” she said. “Or have you changed your mind?”

The coldness in his eyes sent a chill over her entire body, despite the sweat still drying on her skin. “I’ve already taken care of two of them. The last…” he waved a hand in the air, “I changed my mind.”

“You can’t be serious.”

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