Chapter 63

SIXTY-THREE

There was a flashlight on her belt, but Josie needed her hands and feet to maneuver the narrow incline in the dark. As a teenager, Josie and her late husband Ray had become acquainted with almost all the rock formations in Denton, particularly the ones in remote areas. No adults to tell them what to do or not do. There was a weird sort of privacy being alone in the middle of the woods on top of a stone formation, especially the Overlook. It hadn’t taken long for them to become adept at climbing it. It was one of their favorites because not many kids their age could climb it or had the courage to climb it—at least not more than once. Josie and Ray had lived childhoods that stamped the fear of death out of them—at least back then. They’d been invincible, never once considering how dangerous it was to repeatedly visit the top of the Overlook.

Now, muscle memory took over, just as it had when Josie climbed to the top for the Lucy Ross case. Her feet moved nimbly, staying in the center of the path. As they got closer to the summit, it got steeper. She leaned into it, walking with her hands and feet, concentrating on the feel of the cool stone under her palms so she didn’t think about how high they were or the fact that any movement too far to the left or too far to the right would send her plummeting to her death. She focused on the sound of Noah’s breathing just behind her. He’d also grown up in Denton. Had gone to the same high school as her and Ray. He’d likely climbed this thing at least once before.

As confident as she was in her ability to handle the Overlook, her body still reacted to the threat of falling. Her palms were clammy. An uncomfortable pressure built in her chest as she labored to draw breath. Blood rushed in her ears. Her scalp prickled.

“Drones,” Noah said.

As they came within a few feet of the top, two small devices covered in lights whizzed over their heads. They hovered in the sky, casting an eerie glow. “Thank God,” she mumbled. Finally, they reached the top. Josie threw herself over the lip of the plateau, landing on her knees. “I’m here! I’m here!”

Staggering to her feet, she drew her Glock. Bell stood less than twenty feet away. He had dragged Juliet upright and wrapped an arm around her neck. Josie could see the strain it took to keep her on her feet in the way the muscles of his forearm corded. Juliet’s wrists and feet were bound with zip ties. Bell pressed the tip of the stained knife blade against her side. Blood spread across her white T-shirt. The wound was to her abdomen. She would still bleed out without medical attention, but a chest wound would have been much worse. If the blade had nicked her heart, she’d have a lot less time. Her eyes were closed but Josie could see the tear stains on her cheeks. Her long, dark hair was matted with dirt and leaves.

Over the buzz of the drones above them and her own labored breathing, Josie heard Noah moving just below her. He stayed out of sight, but she knew he was there, at the ready. Keeping her pistol in a low ready position, Josie sidestepped, trying to get a better angle on Bell, one that would give her the best chance of not hitting Juliet in the event that she needed to shoot him. In response, he backed up, tugging Juliet’s sagging body along with him, closer to the edge.

“Please,” the girl whispered. “Get me out of here.”

Josie took a step toward him, trying to block out the fear that scattered goosebumps all over her skin. Even with her feet planted solidly on the ground, it was hard to fight the feeling of vertigo. The hovering drones gave off a fair amount of light. It was the pitch-black beyond the dome of that light that threatened Josie’s sense of balance. Free fall in every direction. “Put her down, Roger.”

He shuffled closer to the edge. Juliet moaned in pain. Her body tried to curl in on itself, but Bell wrenched her upward.

“I thought you wanted to talk, Roger.” Josie tried to keep track of where her body was in relation to the drop-off, but looking away from Bell and Juliet for even a second felt dizzying. “Put Juliet down.”

“So you can shoot me before we’ve had a chance to get things straight? I don’t think so.”

Her arms ached. “I’ll put my gun away if you lower Juliet to the ground.”

“I’m not stupid, Detective. You’ll have to go first.”

Noah was still hidden. He might have a shot if Josie could get Bell away from Juliet. Slowly, Josie holstered her weapon. Bell loosened his grip on the girl and lowered her to the ground. She curled onto her side, the edge of the cliff only inches from her knees. Roger stood nearby, knife still dangling from his hand. He was still close enough to push or even kick her over. Josie considered negotiating further to get Juliet into a less precarious position, but Bell was too smart to make himself vulnerable, not while she had a gun.

“You don’t have to do this,” Josie said. “You don’t have to hurt Juliet—any more than you already have.”

“Oh, but I do. There’s really no choice at this point, is there?”

The pale skin of his face was shiny with sweat. His blond hair glistened. Josie wondered if he’d dyed it all these years. Faint silvery lines striped his neck where the snake tattoo had been. There was a strange gleam in his eyes, excited and predatory. His body remained still and relaxed, other than his white-knuckle grip on the knife. He was trapped. Out of options. He knew it. He’d gone to great lengths to create this very situation and yet, he seemed oddly happy.

Anticipation. That’s what Josie saw in his eyes.

Dread clutched at her heart, squeezing painfully. All around them, the abyss of blackness pulsed against the glow of the drone lights.

If he’d just wanted to kill the girl, he would have done so already.

“What do you want, Roger?”

His fingers flexed around the handle of the knife. “What do you think I want, Detective Quinn?”

“You want people to pay. You’ve accomplished that. You don’t need to kill Juliet. You’ve already made your point. All over this city—and beyond—you’ve made families suffer. Just like you and Sheila are suffering now that Jenna’s gone. It’s over. You got what you wanted.”

He lurched toward her, knife spearing the air. In spite of the jolt of sheer terror that rattled her body, Josie held firm.

“If you think that I got what I wanted, then you weren’t paying attention. I thought you got my message. I thought you understood.”

She thought about the report Lamay had sent over just before she got Bell’s call. No one had been paying attention fifteen years ago, or if they were, they hadn’t cared. Her mind worked frantically to put together the bigger picture—to see what had led them here to this moment, but she did understand one thing. Roger Bell wasn’t just after revenge. He could have gotten that without all the dramatics, without offering himself up to police on a silver platter.

He wanted his story told. These murders had been about getting the attention of the people who’d failed him, who’d failed the Cook family, as much as they’d been about retribution.

“Roger, I get it,” Josie said quickly.

Roger dropped to his knees, hovering over Juliet. “I picked you. I spared you! Because I thought you were better than them. I thought you saw things that other people don’t. You saw the girl on the street that day, didn’t you? Do you remember her name?”

“No.” She’d scoured the Cook file, but the girl had declined to make a statement, much less file a complaint against Lampson.

“Tory,” Bell said.

Josie didn’t know where he was going with this, but it didn’t matter because he lowered his free hand to Juliet’s hip. Josie stumbled forward, boot catching on a divot in the stone. Her body wobbled and flailed as she tried to regain her footing. “Stop!” she cried, thinking Roger was going to roll Juliet off the side and into oblivion.

Instead, he held Juliet’s body in place and lifted the knife high above his head. Josie reacted without thought, closing the distance between them, and wrapping her hands around his wrist. His back was to her, so he wasn’t prepared for her attack. As he struggled against her grip, still trying to bring the knife down into Juliet’s side, Josie had a sudden moment of perfect clarity. Snapshots of the Cook crime scene photos flitted through her mind, like a deck of cards being shuffled.

Simon Cook in the hospital, three stab wounds to his back. The kitchen. The butcher block. The bag in Miranda O’Malley’s bedroom, packed full to bursting. The furniture pushed almost up to her door. Simon Cook’s overturned backpack, its contents scattered across his bed. The leather case too large for an iPod. Another image came—not from photos but from memory. Little Felicity Cook’s chest flayed wide open. Being trapped under her big brother had probably saved her life, in an ironic twist. Then loose bits of information Josie had gathered in the last week from interviews and a review of the Cook file coalesced. The witness who had said that Bell was unnaturally fixated on Miranda O’Malley. Jenna Hampton dying of cardiac issues. Bell’s message. Don’t overlook it.

Josie tried to control the knife, yanking back on his wrist, trying to pull him away from Juliet. “Stop, Roger! Stop! You don’t need to do this. I know! Okay? I know!”

He hadn’t just been leading her here. He’d been asking her to see what everyone else had overlooked—intentionally or not, including the DNA results from the knife that didn’t make it into evidence at trial.

A shadow moved at her back, Noah approaching from the side, his pistol aimed at Bell’s rib cage. “Put the knife down! Put it down now!”

It wasn’t a good shot. One look down over Bell’s shoulder told Josie that Juliet’s position was more precarious than ever. He no longer grasped her hip, instead using his other hand to try and pry Josie’s fingers from his wrist. His upper body twisted. Their fight to control the knife caused Bell’s body to nudge Juliet closer to the edge. Her head lolled over it, hair fluttering into the abyss.

Josie shouted more loudly. “I know, Roger! I know! Please, stop.”

Noah holstered his weapon and joined Josie, taking hold of Bell’s free hand and whipping it down and behind his back. The motion stunned him long enough for Josie to pry the knife from his grip. She tossed it away and wrenched his arm behind his back as Noah had done. Both she and Noah slid hands under his armpits and dragged him backward. His legs kicked out, hitting Juliet’s back. Her body teetered for a brief, frozen moment. Around Josie, the entire world went silent and still. Even the air in her lungs froze. Then Noah let go of Bell and dove for Juliet, just as she rolled into the darkness.