Chapter 60

SIXTY

Josie’s head glanced off something hard—a step or maybe part of the railing, she couldn’t be sure. Bracing herself for a painful descent, she let her limbs go slack. The air whooshed out of her lungs when her body hit something solid enough to break her fall but soft enough not to inflict pain. Turner’s chest. His flashlight clattered down the shaft, the beam of light dancing as it receded. Clutching her shoulders, he steadied her. Together, they froze.

“Shit.” His breath skated past the shell of her ear. “I can’t see a damn thing. I lost my flashlight. Where’s yours?”

Josie pointed up the steps where a dim yellow glow struggled to cut through the darkness. “On the landing. But the steps broke apart right under me. That’s why I fell.”

His hands were still on her shoulders. “This place is dangerous as hell. I can’t believe no one got hurt when we came through here the first time. I’m pretty sure my light fell down toward the first floor.”

“We should go back down then,” Josie said. “There’s another staircase on the opposite side of the building. We can try that one.”

Turner gently turned her body so they could proceed back to the first floor. He kept one hand clamped around her bicep. “I know you don’t like me touching you, but I figured you’d make an exception this time. I’ll let go when we’re all the way down.”

For once, Josie didn’t mind. Turner had probably just saved her from a broken neck, although she’d be damned if she admitted it to him. He had a lot of flaws, but he’d proven himself to be strong and quick on his feet. It was, perhaps, his only redeeming quality. On a previous case, to save her from being mauled by a dog, he’d picked her up and tossed her over a six-foot fence like she weighed nothing. He’d called her ‘Paper Airplane’ for weeks after that.

True to his word, once they emerged from the stairwell onto the first floor, Turner released her. He went back into the stairwell to find his flashlight. The harsh glow of the halogens pierced some nearby windows, saving her from complete darkness. Josie took the time to assess herself for injuries. Scraped forearms. Slight bump on her head. Nothing serious. As she rubbed her scalp, a memory hit her like a slap. Her mouth went dry. She hadn’t forgotten what happened at this old mill all those years ago, but she hadn’t exactly been keyed in on the details during the initial search for Isaac Hampton.

Turner said something to her. She was too lost in the past to focus on his words.

Light pierced her eyes. She threw a hand up to cover them. “Turner, what the hell?”

“Something’s wrong,” he said. “I can tell.”

Josie blinked as he lowered his torch. “How can you tell?”

“Because you didn’t answer me when I called your name. You just looked, I don’t know, frozen. Then I called you ‘sweetheart’ and you didn’t even respond. I’m not giving you a dollar for that one, by the way, since I was just testing you. Did you hear something? There are a lot of rats in this place.”

Josie shook her head and walked toward him. “Andrew Bowen’s mother brought me here once. I was working a case. I went to question her. She brought me here to show me something and then she tried to kill me. In one of the stairwells.”

Turner tapped his fingers against his thigh. “So what you’re saying is you were a lot dumber back then.”

Josie put her hands on her hips. “Now for that, I want a dollar.”

“No way. That’s not how the system works. You got a problem with it, talk to your hub— the LT. So this bitch tried to kill you and now we’re looking for her granddaughter in the same place. You think Roger Bell left his car here on purpose?”

Trying not to let her irritation get to her, Josie let him lead the way to the other stairwell. “No. No one would have known that. It wasn’t in news reports or anything.”

They passed more badly damaged decaying machines. What used to be different types of looms. “Why did this Isaac guy—or Bell—leave his car here then?” Turner asked. “Because it’s so remote, or was there some other case that involved this shithole?”

“The mill, specifically?” she said. “Off the top of my head, I’m not sure.”

Slowly, they worked their way up the steps, this time without incident. Turner gave Josie his flashlight and he used the app on his phone so that they could maneuver through the decrepit ghosts of textile machines past. Then Turner’s beam fell away, and she realized he had stopped moving. Turning back, she saw his face bathed in light from his phone screen. “Are you kidding me right now? You can’t stay off that thing for five minutes?”

He didn’t even look at her. His thumb moved at warp speed. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Quinn. It’s the LT. They just finished the search of the Hampton house. No obvious stuff like bloody clothes or hazmat suits or whatever. There was a polaroid camera in the kid’s old room though. That’ll get taken into evidence. Oh, and they took a couple of tubes of glue so they can compare it to the stuff in the old cars.”

Still nothing that was going to help them find Juliet Bowen.

“Come on,” Josie said. “There’s nothing here. Let’s go up to the third floor.”

Turner groaned but switched back to his flashlight app and let her take the lead. They made it to the next floor safely. Inside the doors, Josie accidentally kicked a cluster of dry-rotted spools of thread, sending them careening in every direction. As they worked their way through more debris, Turner’s light lingered on a roller that was as big as him. “What I wanna know is why is Bell on a revenge tour? He got off!”

It was a question that Josie had been obsessing over all day.

“Not to mention, what kind of sick bastard tracks down and seduces the woman raising the child he nearly stabbed to death?” Turner continued. “How did he find them? What was he trying to do? I’m telling you, Quinn. I’ve seen some crazy shit in my day but nothing this twisted.”

Skirting a pile of what looked like dried-up wool but could possibly be the remains of a fluffy rodent, Josie merely nodded. They were missing more puzzle pieces than she thought. She’d never say it out loud, but Turner was right. Bell’s behavior made no sense. He should have been celebrating his freedom for the last fifteen years, not raising the girl he almost killed and plotting to kill the family members of the people whose actions had kept him out of prison.

It didn’t make sense.

Josie heard the sound of tiny feet scratching along the floor. Turner’s light went wild as he jumped and bobbled his phone. “Goddamn rodents! This place is seriously giving me the creeps, Quinn.”

She swept her light in his direction. Dust had gathered in his thick curls. His eyes bulged as he searched the floor around his feet. With his free hand, he tugged at his beard. Like he had the night he’d brought Amber to her house. This was his nervous tic, Josie realized. She, too, hated being in dark spaces but she could take them if they were big enough. It was small, confined dark spaces that undid her. Another gift from the woman who’d abducted her and pretended to be her mother.

“Turner,” Josie said, wanting to distract him. “Why do you think Bell waited all this time to do this?”

He took one last scan around his feet and started walking again. “Hell if I know.”

Shaking her head, Josie kept moving, sweeping her light along the floor to look for any holes or rotted areas. “Think.”

“Why do I have to do the thinking?” he complained.

A massive structure loomed ahead. Josie’s heart did a little flutter. Her body remembered it before her mind got there. “It’s kind of your job,” she replied.

“I don’t know. When people go off the deep end, there’s usually a triggering event. The death of his daughter. It made him snap. I mean, if you don’t have your kids, what’s the point in living, right?”

Freezing in place, Josie swiveled her head in his direction. Was this another inexplicable glimpse of his humanity? What did he know about having kids? Josie certainly couldn’t imagine him as a dad. In the low light, his face was just visible. “What?” he said. “You don’t think I’m right? Oh, you think Bell didn’t have feelings like that, don’t you? ’Cause he’s a stone-cold killer?”

The memory of Felicity Cook—Jenna Hampton—bleeding out under her hands still made Josie sick to her stomach. What kind of person could do such a thing to a child? Not someone who had any type of parental instincts. She didn’t believe anyone was capable of that much change. “I think Jenna’s death was the trigger.” She wouldn’t go as far as saying the words ‘you’re right.’ He’d be insufferable for days. “I’m just not sure why. Come on, there’s somewhere I want to check up ahead.”