Josie lowered her mug to her lap, wrapping the hand not gripping the handle around the outside, soaking in the warmth from the hot liquid within. She told him about hearing the squeaks, a few small bumps as though someone was walking slowly across the hardwood floor, maybe exiting the house, the dripping of what she’d thought was the kitchen faucet.
“But nothing before that?”
“I was in the bathroom before that, getting ready for bed. I’d been running the water in the sink, washing my face. I don’t know that I would have noticed any noise that came from downstairs.”
He nodded. “That knife, is it one of yours, from a drawer maybe?”
“The only knives I have are in the block on the counter.”
So the unknown suspect had brought it along.
Josie drew her shoulders in slightly and bit at her lip for a moment, obviously thinking about something. Zach waited for her to continue. After a moment she met his eyes. “When I was held in that warehouse, there were . . . rats.” She looked away, behind him, her gaze haunted. She was obviously looking back into that hellish past. “They’d come out sometimes. I’d hear them. Feel them.” She drew her shoulders in more, making her body smaller. “Later . . . he brought rat poison down there. It . . . worked, because I could smell their dead bodies rotting in the walls.”
Zach’s blood turned to ice in his veins. He wanted to hurt someone, Marshall Landish, he supposed, but he was already dead, burning in hell where he belonged. “Was it in the news? About the rats? Do you remember if that was public knowledge?”
She let out a raspy breath, setting her mug down. “I don’t know. I don’t remember.” She wrapped a hand around one of her ankles that was partially tucked beneath her. “I have scars though . . . from the bites. One or two areas were treated in the hospital for infection.”
Zach stared, swallowed. Okay, another thing the hospital staff—at least—had been privy to and may have spoken about. “This could be related then, Josie. To the crime the alleged copycat committed.”
“You’re assuming it was in the news then? About the rats?”
“Even if it wasn’t, there were rats at the crime scene where the recent victim died. The copycat could have assumed there were also rats where you were held, or simply gotten the idea from the location where he chained the other girl. I don’t know for sure.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Hey.” He reached over, put his hand on top of hers. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get whoever did this.” Her skin was cold and smooth, the bones in her hand delicate. She was strong, obviously resilient, but she was breakable too. That protective streak vibrated within him, something surging between the place where their skin met. Zach pulled his hand away, leaned back, created distance. Yeah, I’m attracted to her, he admitted to himself. And he wondered if she could tell, wondered if it made her feel uneasy. How could it not? He was supposed to be there protecting her, not causing her to feel like she was being ogled.
For fuck’s sake.
Zach stood, picking up the mugs, his full, and hers empty, and walking them to the kitchen. He wasn’t ogling her, though, he told himself. That wasn’t it. The pull he felt toward Josie Stratton went beyond physical attraction.
And it was still wrong. She was off limits. Utterly and completely.
When Zach re-entered the living room, Josie looked up at him. “This could be related to the copycat, but . . . it also could have been my cousin trying to scare me off.”
“Your cousin? Why?”
Josie told him about her cousin’s visit the day before, how he was bitter that his mother had left the property to Josie instead of to him, how he’d made her an offer she’d refused and then told her she’d regret it.
“A threat?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t really consider it one at the time. Archie’s always been full of hot air. But . . . he was definitely angry with me.”
“Does Archie have a key to the house?”
“I didn’t think so. I thought all the keys had been turned over to me. But . . . it’s possible, I suppose.” She seemed so weary suddenly.
Zach glanced at his cell phone and saw the time. It’d been a long day for her, filled with unsettling news, an even longer night. “Why don’t you go up to bed, Josie? The criminalist will be here in a minute and will be in and out quickly. There’s not a lot to process. I’ll lock up after they leave and sleep on your couch tonight.”
She blinked at him. “Would you?” She shook her head, looking embarrassed. “I mean, it’s going above and beyond, I realize that, but—”
“It’s not going above and beyond. It’s my job to protect you. If the guy who came into your house comes back tonight, I want to be here to catch him.”
Their eyes held for a moment. “Right,” she said. “Yes. Thank you.” She gave him a small, tired smile. “There are extra blankets in the linen closet in the hallway. I’ll sleep better knowing you’re close by.”
She scooted past him, the delicate scent of her shampoo meeting his nose. “Goodnight, Detective Copeland.”
He turned his head slightly. “Zach.”