Finally, Gretchen turned the heat down so they could talk. She found her notebook on the dashboard and started flipping pages. “The sheriff’s office is providing the K-9 unit. The Chief called in every resource to find this guy, especially since he attacked Josie. He’s trying to get us a state police helicopter right now, but I’m not sure we’ll get one. Hummel and several members of the ERT are inside processing the house. Also, Dr. Feist called. Lydia Norris’s cause of death was drowning.”
“What?” said Noah. “She was alive when the killer put her into the fish lift?”
“Yes,” said Gretchen.
“Let me guess,” Josie ventured. “She had a subdural hematoma which made her weak and disoriented, possibly unconscious.”
Gretchen turned in her seat so she could look at them. “She actually had one subdural hematoma and a skull fracture. No patterned injury so we don’t know what she was struck with but someone hit her pretty hard—twice. No sign of sexual assault. Also, there are some abrasions on her wrists to suggest that she was bound at some point prior to her death.”
“Very similar to Eden,” Josie noted. “Any phone records yet?”
“Not yet. Oh, and Mettner has been calling me every fifteen minutes.”
Josie shifted and fished inside her coat until she came up with her own phone. She checked the notifications. Seven missed calls from Mett. “Shit,” she muttered. “One of us should talk to him. No word from Thatcher Toland yet?”
“No,” said Gretchen.
Josie looked out the window at Gabriel’s sad little house. From the front door, Hummel emerged in his full Tyvek suit with gloves, booties, and a skullcap. Briefly, he spoke to the uniformed officer with the clipboard on the front stoop. Then he jogged over to the car. Noah rolled a window down. “Anything?” he asked.
Hummel rested a forearm against the roof of the car and leaned into the open window. “That place is a dump. It’s falling apart, and I don’t think this guy has cleaned since he moved in. We did find a gun. A Beretta M9. Loaded.”
“Full magazine?” asked Josie.
Hummel shook his head. “Three bullets missing.”
For a moment, none of them spoke. Then Gretchen asked, “Any kayaks in there?”
“No. Checked the garage, too. Nothing but an old beat-up truck.”
Josie asked, “What else did you find?”
“In his dirty laundry we found a coat with some blood on the sleeve. Also, two long auburn hairs.”
“Shit,” said Noah.
“We can type the blood right here on-scene to see if it matches either Eden’s or Amber’s blood type, but DNA testing of that and the hair is going to take a lot longer.”
Josie felt the flutter of heart palpitations in her chest. Everything about this case, everything about her experience as a police officer told her Amber was dead and yet, the more evidence that came in to potentially confirm that, the more heartbroken she felt. As if sensing her sadness, Noah squeezed her more tightly to his side. Pushing her feelings aside, she thanked Hummel and told him to let them know as soon as he typed the blood on the sleeve of Gabriel Watts’ coat. As soon as Noah rolled up the window, Josie said, “We are not telling Mettner that. Not yet.”
“I’ll call him back anyway, tell him we’re still on the case,” said Noah, releasing Josie and getting out of the car.
“What do you think, boss?” asked Gretchen. “Is Watts our guy? You want to stay here? Join the search?”
“I don’t know if he’s the guy,” Josie said. “But we still need to find him. Right now, it’s about all we can do while we wait for all of our requested information from Amber, Eden, and Lydia’s phone records and the property listings the sisters searched online. A few hours ago, I thought Thatcher Toland was our guy, and we definitely need to speak with him, but Gabriel ran when we confronted him.”
“Never a good sign,” Gretchen agreed.
“Can we get a uniformed officer to track Toland down and ask him to come to the station?”
Gretchen’s fingers flew across her phone screen. “Of course.”
“Let’s join the search for now.”
Thirty-Eight
By the time they returned to the stationhouse, they were all hungry, tired, and numb with cold. Gabriel Watts had disappeared into thin air. Chief Chitwood had gone out to the scene to supervise the search into the night while Josie, Noah, and Gretchen took a break. They picked up takeout on the way in and ate it quickly at their desks while filling out reports for the day. Gretchen checked in with the uniformed officer tasked with finding Thatcher Toland. So far, the officer had been to the church and three of Toland’s properties within a two-hour radius. He was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t seen Vivian either or even Paul. Gretchen told him to sit in his patrol car outside the church and to call them if Thatcher or his wife showed up.
Hummel called to advise that the blood type found on Gabriel Watts’ coat sleeve was A positive, and according to records they’d been able to get from Amber’s family doctor, it was a match to her blood type. This information sent moods plunging. Josie sent his team to Danville next to gain access to Lydia Norris’s home—although the way this case was going, Josie didn’t expect them to find anything useful.
Soon after that, the stairwell door banged open and Mettner stepped into the room. He walked up to the desks and stood before them, hands jammed into his hoodie pockets, looking almost sickly. His hair was greasy and uncombed. Stubble covered his jaw, and beneath it his skin was so pale it looked almost translucent. Josie could see the veins making blue ribbons across his temples. There were deep circles beneath his eyes. She sent up a silent prayer that they would find Amber alive. Whatever problems he and Amber had to resolve between the two of them was another story, but they’d only be able to work things out for better or worse if she was still alive.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “What’s really happening? Did you find her brother yet?”
“Sit down,” Noah told him.
“I’m not going to sit down until you tell me the truth. I can’t sit anymore. This is driving me crazy.”
Josie stood and walked over to him, gently touching his shoulder. “I know, Mett. But just have a seat, and we’ll bring you up to speed, okay?”
“What is it?” he asked, voice husky.
Gretchen stood up as well and walked over, standing directly in front of him. Her voice was gentle and patient. “It’s nothing, Mett. Nothing yet. We’re doing everything we can. Working every angle.”
He pointed at Josie. “You think she’s dead.”
“I don’t,” she replied.
“What are you guys not telling me? I’m cleared, right?”
Noah joined them standing in a semicircle, “You’re cleared, yes, but you can’t work the case. You know that.”
Again, he pointed at Josie. “She worked her own sister’s case! When her fiancé went missing, she worked his case! You can’t shut me out. We’re talking about the woman I love. My future wife, if she’ll have me. You don’t get to have a different standard for yourself.”
“Calm down,” Gretchen said firmly.