He tilted his head, studying her for a moment. “I know everything about the crime that was committed against you. That’s not all there is to you.”
Wasn’t it? She picked at a piece of chipped wood on the railing. She wasn’t sure what to say. She had defined herself by the year she’d spent chained up and alone for so long now. And maybe she shouldn’t . . . maybe there was more to her than just that one traumatic event. The thought made her feel slightly hopeful and vaguely afraid—adrift somehow. What did she cling to if not that? “What do you want to know?” she asked somewhat warily.
He closed one eye as if considering deeply, and she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled from her chest. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Dessert. Anything sweet.”
“Interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed. Favorite movie.”
“Rear Window.”
He looked surprised at that. “A Hitchcock fan? Me too. Favorite season.”
“Summer.”
“Summer’s good.”
She laughed. “Yes, summer is good.”
They stood there grinning at each other for several beats, the air growing thick with simmering tension. It made Josie want to step toward him. It made her want to run away. Her hand fluttered to her neck where she could feel her skin warming. And it was suddenly all so much. The call she’d gotten earlier from the man who’d broken into her house and killed her mother. The questions swirling in her mind that Jimmy had brought up that afternoon. This, whatever it was between her and Zach. Their expressions sobered. He felt it too, she could tell.
She pushed off the railing and stepped away from him. “Mind if I take a shower and turn in? I know it’s early, but it’s been a long, exhausting day, and I didn’t sleep great last night.”
He turned. Was that disappointment in his gaze or was she imagining it? “No dinner? There’s supposed to be food in the kitchen. Someone stocked it before we got here.”
Josie yawned. “No. I think I’ll just turn in. Thank you, Zach. For . . . everything.” She turned away from him, retreating inside to the safety of the small room where Zach had already deposited her bag. But she couldn’t flee the well of feelings he’d opened inside of her, nor the visions of those midnight eyes that followed her into her dreams.
Josie woke in the middle of the night, sitting straight up in bed, sweat causing her nightgown to stick to her damp skin, swallowing a gasp that had risen in her throat. She couldn’t remember the dream that had woken her, but even when her breath had calmed and she once again lay staring up at the beamed ceiling, she swore she could feel something barreling toward her. Something twisty and complicated and fraught with emotions too nebulous to name.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Zach knocked on the door of the double-wide Stanley and Ida Breene resided in. It was early morning. Zach had left Josie safely sleeping at the secured cabin while he drove to the address of Deanna Breene’s parents.
“Who’s it?” he heard yelled from inside and leaned forward.
“Zach Copeland, Cincinnati Police Department,” he called back. He heard a deep squeak as though someone hefty was getting up from a recliner and stood back as the door swung open.
A plump woman in a shapeless striped dress stood at the door, looking out at him suspiciously. “Badge?”
Zach unclipped his badge and flashed it at her. “Are you Ida Breene?”
She nodded, and after peering at his badge and appearing satisfied, stepped aside, allowing him entrance to the trailer. It smelled like rancid grease and soiled laundry, and Zach resisted the grimace that threatened. Sometimes the living smelled worse than the dead . . .
“Have a seat,” Ida said, pointing to a flowered couch. She lowered herself to a deep blue recliner, the furniture item expressing its disapproval in the form of the deep screechy squeak he’d heard from the other side of the door. “What’s a detective from Ohio doing here in Tennessee?”
“I’m in the area temporarily. Our department has been trying to reach you.”
She nodded over to a beige wall phone. Zach couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen one of those. “Broken,” she said. Apparently they were in no rush to fix it. Or step into the era of wireless communication.
“I see. I have some questions about your daughter, ma’am. Her name came up during the course of an investigation.”
“Figured someone would be around at some point.”
He frowned. “Why’s that?”
“Ain’t seen hide nor hair a her for four years.”
Zach paused in surprise. “Ah, I must have missed the missing person report—”