Chapter Eighteen #2
Her chest flooded with warmth, but she felt awkward too, undeserving of such high praise.
She’d done what she had to do, yes, but anyone else would have done the same, given similar opportunities in that harrowing situation.
And the fact remained, she hadn’t managed to do the one thing that truly mattered: she hadn’t saved her child.
She hadn’t kept her promise to him. Her baby boy.
At least not yet.
“Thank you, Zach.”
He regarded her. “I heard your garage sale didn’t go so well today.”
She cringed internally. She hated that the man who’d just praised her and made her feel proud knew of her failure.
“Not exactly. Did Detective Keene tell you about the articles pinned next to my flyers?” She felt the shame of that moment she’d first seen the ad hung up in the grocery store, the realization of what it was.
“Yeah. Think it was your cousin who did that?”
“It’s my best guess. Even if someone else put that rat in my house to try to scare me or to…I don’t know, send a message, no one has reason to try to run me out of this community except Archie.”
“Don’t let him, Josie.”
His tone was so incredibly serious. She met his eyes, a sense of wonder overcoming her.
He’s rooting for me, she thought with a pang in her chest at the realization.
This man is not just here to protect my safety; he’s on my side.
A flush of warmth blossomed under her skin.
She didn’t know him at all, really, but his belief in her meant so much.
“You’ve fought harder battles than this,” he said.
That was the understatement of the century.
She’d had a similar thought earlier that day, but after the—mostly—failed garage sale, she hadn’t been able to hold on to the sentiment.
Detective Zach Copeland had helped her reclaim it with his sincerity, and she was grateful.
She felt shy, though, off balance, out of her element.
While his words of support had meant the world to her, responding to compliments was unfamiliar to Josie, and she wasn’t sure what to say.
She stood and gathered their empty plates, but as she was turning, he reached out and touched her arm. A charge moved between the place where their skin touched, and suddenly Josie felt as if it was the only place she existed. Just there. The place where their molecules meshed.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” he said, his eyes moving to where his hand rested on her arm as though he felt the same energy flowing between them.
She stepped back, and his hand fell away. “You didn’t. I appreciate what you said. It means a lot to me. I’m trying to see myself as a survivor instead of a victim.”
“You should,” he said as she took the plates to the sink and placed them inside.
She turned around, leaning against the porcelain apron. “How long do you guys think you’ll be here?”
Zach got up, gathering the glasses and placing them on the counter next to the sink where she stood.
As he leaned back, she caught his scent, a light cologne, or maybe just deodorant.
Clean. Masculine. Nice. He looked at her for a moment, indecision in his expression.
“We found another girl earlier this evening.”
She sucked in a small breath. “Another girl?”
Zach watched her closely as he nodded.
“My God. Same…same as the other one?”
“Yes.”
Josie swallowed, horror screaming through her. “Where?” she managed to ask.
“Another basement in an abandoned house in Clifton.”
“Same manner of death? Shackles?” She felt her lips move, but her voice sounded distant somehow.
“Yes.”
Josie wrapped her arms around herself, feeling chilled to the bone. “Who is she?”
“We don’t have a positive ID yet, but she’s young.”
“What’s this guy’s point?” she asked, her voice breaking on the last word. “Why would he be copying Marshall Landish?”
Zach leaned back against the opposite counter, crossing his own arms across his chest. “Well, from what we know about copycat killers, a desire for media attention is usually a strong motivating factor.”
“My crime received plenty of media attention, but that was eight years ago.”
“Doesn’t matter. The killer made sure we wouldn’t miss the similarities.
As much as no one at my department wants to sensationalize this, we have to warn the public.
Like I said, we don’t have a positive ID on the second victim yet, but we think she may have attended UC.
The first victim attended classes there too, though she’d dropped them several months before her abduction.
We’re not sure of the significance of the link, but the campus needs to know. ”
“He’s targeting UC students?” Like her. Like she’d been.
Even if that had nothing to do with the reasons Marshall Landish had abducted and tortured her in the first place.
It was a similarity this new psycho could copy.
Was copying. Disbelief rolled through her.
She couldn’t believe this was happening.
“Maybe.”
“What are the other reasons for copycat killings?”
Zach scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s a form of depersonalization.
The killer adopts a persona, and it makes committing the crime easier because it’s not him; it’s a character.
It’s like a warrior painting his face before war, so he can assume a new identity prior to riding into battle.
It helps separate the real him from the persona and makes acts of aggression easier. ”
“It’s why Marshall kept wearing the mask too,” Josie murmured, a slow shiver moving down her spine as she pictured his masked face.
“It not only hid him from me, but in that way, he was able to achieve depersonalization. I was able to ID him based on other tells, but by wearing the mask, he could hide from himself.”
“As a general profile, I’d say that’s probably accurate. We never got the opportunity to interview Landish.”
“No,” she murmured, pushing herself away from the sink where she was leaning.
Marshall Landish had taken all his secrets to the grave, including the whereabouts of their child.
“You must be tired,” she said as she walked toward the kitchen doorway.
“I can set you up in one of the guest rooms upstairs if you’d like? ”
“Couch is good. I don’t want to wake you when I get up to do one of my checks.”
Josie thought of the couch where he’d slept the night before. “Will you be able to get some actual sleep?”
“I’ll drift at least,” he said, following her from the room.
She glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was watching her body as she moved away, and that the expression on his face was decidedly appreciative.
Her nerve endings quivered, and she glanced quickly forward again.
Strangely, that look hadn’t made her feel skittish as similar looks had done over the years, even if those other looks had been given in very public places like the grocery store or the library.
It didn’t mean anything. Men were visual. But she would chalk it up to another win as far as her healing. Sure, she felt safe with him in general—her guardian—but he was still bigger than her, stronger. And still a man. The fact that she welcomed his attention felt…good. Positive.
“There’s, uh, only one working shower in the house right now,” she said, turning when she reached the bottom of the staircase.
“I’m actually retiling the other two. They should be done next week, but for now…
” She waved her hand in the air. She was babbling.
“Anyway, if you want to take a shower, you’re welcome to.
It’s upstairs. The second door on the left. ”
“I showered at home before I came over. But thank you.” He smiled, tilting his head slightly so he looked boyish and charming.
Her stomach fluttered, and she self-consciously brought a hand to it as though butterflies might explode through her skin in a mad flapping of tiny wings.
Of course he’d showered. When he’d stepped close to her, he’d smelled so good.
She took her bottom lip between her teeth, and his gaze shot to her mouth.
The air filled with…something…and she stepped backward up the stairs, her hand still holding those butterflies in, nerves vibrating but not unpleasantly so.
She gave a small, embarrassed laugh, which she cut off immediately. It seemed inappropriate. Why was she laughing? God, she could be so awkward sometimes. “See you in the morning,” she murmured. “Oh, I, um, told my mother I’d visit her tomorrow.”
“What time?”
“Early. Seven-ish? I want to get back here and work on that retiling.”
“I’ll go with you. Jimmy won’t be here until ten or so.”
Josie hesitated. She hardly wanted to bring this man to see where she’d come from or to meet the old crone that was her mother, but she supposed she had to get used to the fact that—temporarily—she had armed security.
She still had to live her life. And when they got there, she’d ask that he wait in the car. “Okay. Goodnight, Zach.”
“Sleep well.”