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)
He thought back to earlier that day when he’d held her on the riverbank as she’d cried, and his heart squeezed. Still, as much as Josie’s display of utter sadness had pulled at his heartstrings, there had been a clarity in her eyes when she’d leaned back and allowed him to wipe away her tears. And there was a new intimacy between them that neither one was addressing. He felt it, though, the delicate nature of their changing relationship, the attraction between them that neither seemed to know how to handle, his own resistance to his attraction to her.
Forget the fact that he could lose his job for getting involved with her, Zach knew that the humming electricity that vibrated inside of him in response to her was anything but simple when it came to desiring a woman who’d been through what Josie had experienced.
It was tricky as hell. He wanted her. And what it meant was that he was completely fucked.
“Smells delicious.”
Zach turned as Josie entered the kitchen behind him. “I hope you’re hungry. I think I made enough to feed an army.” He waved his hand over the stovetop where a bubbling pot of spaghetti cooked along with the sauce. A loaf of garlic bread was in the oven, and Zach had mixed up a Caesar salad. Whomever had stocked the cabin with food had thankfully done it with easy-to-make meals. Zach could claim a few talents, but cooking was not one of them.
Josie smiled, a small one, but real, he thought. Her eyes were slightly red-rimmed from her earlier tears, but despite that, she looked bright and fresh, straight from the shower in a pair of leggings and a long sweatshirt, her hair loose around her face. Jesus, she was beautiful. “Actually,” she said, coming up behind him. “I’m starving.”
“Good,” he said, his voice husky as she leaned around him, peeking at what was on the stove.
“What can I do to help?”
“You can put napkins and silverware on the table if you want,” Zach said. “This is done.” Zach drained the pasta and went about dishing up two plates as Josie put out napkins and silverware and poured them both glasses of water. Zach wished to God there was alcohol in the house. He could use a beer or two like nobody’s business. But there wasn’t any, and he wasn’t going to leave Josie to run into town for alcohol.
They sat down and started eating. “This is great,” Josie said around a bite of pasta. “I didn’t ask how your interview went this morning.”
“Weird.” He told her about Deanna’s mother, how Deanna had been mixed up with drugs, disappeared, but never been reported missing.
“How does that even happen? No one reported her just…gone?”
“I don’t know how parents write their child off like that, but that’s what happened. The trouble is, there’s no way to know if her disappearance had to do with her drug habit or if something more nefarious happened to her.”
“So not a big break in the case.”
“No, but I convinced her mother to fill out a missing person report. The police here will start looking into it.”
She nodded, and they both ate in silence for another moment. Zach regarded her pensive expression. “How are you, Josie?”
She watched her fork as she spun spaghetti around it but didn’t bring it to her mouth. “I’m good. Thank you”—she glanced at him briefly—“for earlier. I…haven’t been held in a long time. I didn’t know how much I needed it.” Her cheeks flushed, but she met his eyes.
“I’m glad it helped,” he said, his heart giving a small twist. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She put the bite of spaghetti in her mouth and looked thoughtful as she chewed. Once she’d swallowed, she dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and said, “I’ve been thinking about what Jimmy mentioned, about considering the possibility that it wasn’t Marshall Landish under that mask.”
“I thought you said you believed it wasn’t possible.”
“I did. I do.” But her expression registered conflict. “But Jimmy’s right. It’s worth exploring all avenues, and that’s what I’ve been doing.”
“And it’s hurting,” he said, “going back through your time spent with him.”
Something that looked like relief came into her expression. At being understood? “Yes. Very much. But it’s good too. It’s been a form of healing I didn’t know I needed. And maybe I wouldn’t have forced myself to go there again in my mind if not for this situation. Whenever I’ve started thinking about it in the past, it’s been my instinct to push it away, you know? Self-preservation. And that was okay, before, because I didn’t believe there was a good reason to relive the details. But…I can’t do that anymore. Not now. Not if something I remember might help some of the families grieving for their murdered daughters find closure. And not if something I remember might help catch this guy.”