Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107766 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
“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?”