Page 86 of Remember Her Name

The knife pinched the tender skin of her throat again. “No. You talk first. Maybe if you’re right, I’ll let one of them live.”

Josie nearly choked on the gasp that bubbled up from her throat. One of them. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now, Noah had mere minutes before he either lost his grip on Juliet Bowen or went over the side with her. Mentally, she gathered up all the panic running wild in her brain and stuffed it into a box. A very sturdy box. Then she shoved that box into the impenetrable vault inside her where she sent all the things that were too horrible for her mind and body to contain.

Good God, she hoped her theory was right.

“You didn’t kill the Cooks.”

A small bit of tension drained from Bell’s entire body. Josie could feel it from the loosening of the knife against her skin to the momentary weakening of his knees where they dug into the backs of her thighs.

Noah’s breathing was heavy and loud. Guttural noises rose from his throat. Not wanting to waste any more time, Josie forced out the narrative she’d constructed in her head only moments ago as fast as she could. “You didn’t kill them. You—you worked there more than at any other home in the neighborhood. They were like your family. You loved little Fel—Felicity and Miranda, too. Even though she was underage.”

Bell pushed against her back, shuffling their fused bodies closer to Noah and Juliet. His foot shot out, making contact with Noah’s side, just below the kidney. His body jerked. His grip on Juliet faltered. Josie screamed involuntarily, hating the desperate sound. She’d gotten that part wrong.

Trying again, she said, “No, no. You cared for Miranda. Like a sister. You weren’t the one bothering her. You only wanted to protect her. Something was happening in that house. Maybe you saw it or maybe she just told you, but Miranda was in danger. Her—her room. She was putting the furniture up against the door at night, wasn’t she? To keep someone out.”

Bell watched Noah squirm near his feet. Juliet’s body slid another couple of inches. “Who?”

“Simon,” Josie breathed. “It was Simon. He was the one obsessed with Miranda. There was only one witness who stated that you were the one with an unnatural fixation on her, making her uncomfortable. That witness was Simon. When you tried to tell the Cooks what was going on, he turned it around on you. They believed him over you because he was their son.”

A sheen of sweat covered Noah’s forearms. More unintelligible noises came from deep in his chest. Every part of his body shook. Juliet’s forehead rested against the ledge.

“The Cooks fired you because of what Simon said. Miranda corroborated your story, but they didn’t believe her.”

Bell kicked out at Noah again, this time making contact with his hip. Noah was too deep in concentration, trying to keep Juliet from plummeting to her death, to even register it.

“Okay, okay,” Josie said. “She wanted to corroborate your story, but she was too afraid of Simon. He—he threatened her. There was a bag in her room on the day of the murders. It was packed full of clothes and makeup. She was going to leave. You came back that day. First you tried again to convince the Cooks that Simon was a danger to Miranda. They still didn’t listen. You left and came back later, not to hurt anyone. You came back for Miranda. You were going to take her away from the house, but when you got there, everyone was already…dead.”

Bell’s arm was like a vise across her chest, almost cutting off her air. Panting, Josie forged ahead. “Except Simon. You went into the kitchen and found him stabbing little Felicity. His back was to you. He didn’t see you. You took the knife from him and stabbed him three times from behind. He—he fell onto Felicity. You thought she was already dead. You were—you were in shock. Scared. No one believed you when you told them the truth about Simon. Why would they believe you when it came to the murders? So you ran.”

His grip tightened on her, but she no longer felt the knife against her throat. Shoving her forward, he lifted a foot in Noah’s direction. Josie yanked at his forearm. “Please,” she screamed. “Please. Don’t.”

Instead of kicking, Bell planted his foot across one of Noah’s quaking calves and applied pressure. Noah hissed in pain.

“The knife! The knife!” Hysteria sent her voice up an octave. “The butcher block on the countertop was full. There weren’t any knives missing. Simon was a minor. He wouldn’t have been able to buy a hunting knife or anything like that, but no one would have stopped him from buying a kitchen knife. It had a sheath. A brown leather sheath. It was on his bed that day but no one noticed it. It was next to his iPod. It was way too big to be a cover for an iPod but no one ever bothered to look that closely. But most importantly, the knife itself—the DNA of all the Cooks and Miranda was found on the blade but only two people left DNA on the handle. You and Simon.”

Bell ground his heel into the back of Noah’s calf. Josie realized that he wasn’t struggling quite as much. He had gotten a better grip on Juliet. Was Bell still trying to hurt him or keep him in place?

“Why didn’t you tell everyone it was Simon?” That was the part that Josie couldn’t figure out. Why hadn’t Bell simply pointed a finger at Simon?

Against her back, she felt a low growl vibrate inside Bell’s chest. His foot came off Noah’s calf. He started to slide. Josie racked her brain, trying not to give in to the screaming, swirling tornado of panic bumping against the limits of her consciousness.

“Please,” she begged, watching as Juliet’s forehead slipped beneath the ledge. Words rushed from her mouth, so fast, she could barely keep them in order. “Wait. I know. I can think of it. Your—your mug shot! You tried to tell the police when you were arrested but they beat the shit out of you. It was Lampson, wasn’t it? He refused to take a statement where you named Simon Cook. You were his suspect. It was a slam dunk. He was—he was lazy like that and then Bowen! Bowen! He—he didn’t believe you. He said no one else would. You could use the ‘I walked in after the fact’ defense but accusing a boy whose familyhad just been slaughtered and admitting you’d stabbed him would be too damaging. Nobody would buy it, especially because you ran.”

As a defense attorney, Andrew Bowen was required to present whatever defense his client offered, regardless of its merit. Instead, he’d bullied a scared and vulnerable Bell, insisting he not accuse Simon at all.

“Bowen didn’t need much of a defense anyway because he could get the knife thrown out,” Josie continued.

Bell put his foot back on Noah’s leg. Josie’s entire body went weak with momentary relief. “If Bowen had believed you, presented the defense you gave him, and let the knife come into evidence, maybe Simon could have been charged. But he didn’t care about Simon or even who killed the Cooks. All he cared about was getting you acquitted because that was his job.”

She strongly doubted her colleagues at the time would have gone back and reviewed the evidence with a view toward developing Simon as a suspect, but there was enough there to have supported Roger’s claims, had Bowen let him testify to them. Had the knife been admissible.

“Jo—Josie,” Noah choked.

She tugged at Bell’s forearm again. “Please. Help them. Or let me help them.”

“You forgot the most important part,” Bell whispered in her ear. “The reason we’re here.”

Josie didn’t want to expend any more mental energy playing Roger Bell’s game. She wanted to beg for the lives of her husband and Juliet Bowen but knew it would do no good. “Felicity. No, Jenna. You tracked her down to protect her.”

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