Page 82 of Remember Her Name

“The Overlook.”

SIXTY-TWO

One of the many unusual rock formations in and around Denton, the Overlook most closely resembled a tree-sized monolith, flat and narrow on top, except that one side of it was angled, making it possible for people to walk up to the top. It wasn’t easy but it could be done. If you made it to the top, you usually slid back down on your ass. Noah always said it was like a giant slide. Locals called it the Overlook because the top of it was level with the trees surrounding it.

Josie stared at it as she kneaded her lower back with a fist. She kept her body hidden behind an oak tree. They were in the middle of the forest. Even with all the flashlights she and the other officers had brought, together with some powerful spotlights, the top of the Overlook wasn’t visible from the ground. It was too dark. Her colleagues bustled around her, keeping cover behind trees while they set up a perimeter. A search of the immediate area hadn’t turned up Bell, but they were still taking every precaution. He hadn’t given any indication that he had a gun or that he’d used a gun in any of his crimes, but they still had to consider him armed. He was a threat. If he was at the top of the Overlook, that put him in an elevated position. Tactically, it was very bad for Denton PD.

A burning sensation filled Josie’s stomach. On the way from the mill to the Overlook, she’d choked down an expired granola bar she’d found in her glove compartment. Now it churned uncomfortably in her gut. A heaviness settled in her limbs. Her feet ached. Rest wasn’t even on the radar.

She smelled Noah’s aftershave before she felt the heat of his body at her back. “The drone shows two figures up top.”

“Two?” said Josie. “Can you get a clean shot of them?”

He shook his head. “The university sent a thermal drone this time. It looks at heat signatures.”

Two heat signatures meant that Juliet Bowen was still alive.

“The Chief’s here,” Noah said. “We’re trying to figure out how to approach this. I don’t think we can get a crane out here. We can’t even get vehicles close to this thing. The hiking trail is too narrow.”

“Let me go up,” Josie said. “I can climb to the top. I’ve done it before. In the dark.”

“Too dangerous.”

“If we do nothing, he’s going to stab Juliet Bowen to death.”

“You don’t know that.” Noah glanced around them. His face was visible in the glow cast by dozens of different types of lights. Tension lined his face. “We don’t know what he’s going to do. He changed his protocol. We can’t predict his behavior at this point.”

Noah was right. All along, Bell’s MO had been the same. Abduct a woman. Take her to a remote location. Hit her over the head to disorient her. Don his hazmat suit and stab her to death. Leave a polaroid of the location of his next victim. Then he walked away, stripped off the bloodied suit, and got into a car he’d “borrowed” from Schock’s Auto Repair. Whether he’d stashed it near the scene ahead of time or the mysterious grandmother figure—or someone else—was waiting for him, she still couldn’t figure out. Regardless, with the minor variation ofluring Jared Rowe to Harper’s Peak and letting him live, Bell’s actions had been consistent.

Until Juliet Bowen.

Instead of killing her and leaving a polaroid with her body, he’d left one in her bed when he abducted her. Josie wasn’t surprised that the polaroid pointed to her. She was the last person on his revenge list. Though they couldn’t prove it, Josie firmly believed he’d killed Artie Peluso’s wife; Dusty Branson’s mother; and Bud Ernst. They had all lived outside of Denton’s jurisdiction. They weren’t a part of what he was doing now, here in Denton, and yet they were connected. Practice kills, maybe. Except Roger Bell wouldn’t have needed practice.

Footsteps sounded behind them. Gretchen trudged over, Turner trailing behind her. “Well,” she said. “He didn’t shoot at the drone or throw anything at it. I guess that’s something.”

Josie still couldn’t wrap her mind around why Bell was bent on getting revenge on everyone involved in the Cook case. If anyone had cause to seek vengeance, it was Simon Cook. They hadn’t been able to access his new name yet, which meant they couldn’t locate him. Even if Bell’s claim that he’d walked in on the stabbings after the fact was true, he’d gone free. There had been irreparable damage to his reputation, but he’d managed to change his name and start over. By all accounts, he’d lived a happy life with Sheila Hampton and her daughter.

Josie was convinced that Jenna Hampton’s death had triggered his rampage. It was one of the few things about this insane case that made sense. If she was right, that meant he’d truly loved the girl, even if it didn’t line up with what she’d seen in the Cook house. If Bell was going to go on a killing spree provoked by grief, why seek revenge on the people whose mistakes and incompetence had allowed him to go free—to become Jenna’s father? Or, in the case of Andrew Bowen, why try to hurt the man who did his job well enough to ensurethat Bell was acquitted? It was almost like he was angry that he hadn’t gone to prison, even though he’d maintained his innocence throughout the trial.

Maybe she was looking at this the wrong way. Maybe instead of trying to fit a thousand malformed puzzle pieces together, she needed instead to focus on only one thing. The Cook case—and this revenge tour—had always turned on one thing. The murder weapon. The knife that wasn’t photographed and that Andrew Bowen managed to keep out of evidence. What if the knife had come in during the trial?

What was she missing?

Turner’s fingers tapped a beat against his thigh. “What’s this guy’s deal? He made himself a sitting duck.”

Noah sighed. “He did, and there are only two ways he’s getting off that rock: in police custody or in a body bag.”

Josie took out her phone and tapped out a text to Sergeant Dan Lamay. She didn’t think he was still on shift, but she knew he’d get her what she needed right away, no questions asked. If he was awake.

“This dickhead was on a pretty good run,” Turner said. “Why change his pattern now?”

“Because that’s what psychotic killers do,” Gretchen said. She, too, looked at her phone. “The other drones are here. I think we can get some light up there. We’re trying to find someone who’s proficient at rock-climbing. Maybe they can give one of us a crash course and we can get someone up there to try to talk to this guy.”

“One of you can take a crash course,” Turner said. “I’m not rock-climbing. Definitely not in the middle of the night. Let that bastard sit up there. Eventually he’ll get hungry or tired and he’ll have to come down. If he decides to do it by throwing himself over, I’m not gonna be upset.”

Josie glared at him. “There’s a sixteen-year-old girl up there.”

“And he hasn’t killed her,” Turner pointed out.

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