Where the Blame Lies

Later, Zach sat at his desk as the sun began lowering in the sky. A quiet buzz still surrounded him as the other detectives in the room worked, attempting to bring justice and closure to the citizens of Cincinnati.

And yet justice had been denied to Josie, to her mother, to Marshall Landish, and the women he’d tortured and killed, making them all unwitting players in the war waged inside a sick and twisted mind.

Perhaps, Zach mused, a war waged inside them all. A struggle that could either trap you in the past or allow you to move freely into the future. He thought of Josie’s struggles. He thought of his own.

That protective streak, that deep-seated need to make right what the world got so wrong. He knew where it had originated. Admitted where it’d come from. It’d been born from his own guilt at living when his little brother had not. It should have been Zach, the outsider—though no one had ever made him feel that way—not Aaron, the one who was rightly there. It was warped thinking, he knew that. Irrational, even. But God, how the things you believed about yourself, irrational or not, could rule your choices. Your fears. Your insecurities and the blame you assigned yourself. And, if that was far too painful, you cast it off on others.

As Charles Hartsman had done.

Casus belli.

Zach sighed, standing and straightening his desk quickly before heading for the door. It’d been another twelve-hour day and he was bone weary.

He stepped outside into the warm summer evening, the sky awash in shades of pink and orange, beauty cast over a broken world. As he walked to his car, he heard the low strains of . . . country music? His pulse jumped and he looked up. Stopped, his heart clenching. Josie.

She stood leaning against her car, the passenger door open as country music played from her radio, set at low volume. She was wearing jean shorts and a cowgirl hat.

“I heard I might find a cowboy here,” she said, a smile gracing her lips, nervousness in her eyes.

Zach moved closer, his gut clenching. She was so goddamned beautiful, and he wanted her with every beat of his heart. His eyes drank her in. He tipped his chin. “Looking for a cowboy, are you?”

She grinned, breathing out a laugh, glancing away and then back. Shy. “Hi, Zach.” She pushed off the car, standing straight. “How are you?”

He nodded. “Good. I’m good. How are you?”

She licked her lips, her smile fading. “I’m good too.” Zach’s gaze moved over her features. She looked good, damn good. A . . . peace in her eyes that surprised the hell out of him. Once again, Josie’s strength knocked him on his ass. “Thanks for, you know, giving me a little time. Things have just been”—she shrugged, letting out another breathy laugh, though a flash of pain came and went in her eyes—“intense. You know?”

Intense.

Yeah, that was a good word.

“What you did, Josie,” he said, shaking his head at the memory of those few minutes in the lawyer’s office, the sacrifice she’d made for her boy, “for Reed. It was so incredibly brave.”

Grief passed over her face, but she managed a smile anyway.

“If you want to talk about it sometime . . .” He felt awkward suddenly, as if by bringing the painful topic up, he might have pushed her away when he was so damn happy—relieved—she was standing in front of him.

But she looked in his eyes, nodded as she tilted her head. “Yeah,” she said. “I would like that. Maybe we could do dinner.”

He grinned, his heart soaring. “Yeah. I’d love that.”

She paused. “Do you think about her sometimes?” she asked softly, vulnerability filling her expression, “your birth mother?”

He studied her, saw her heart right in her eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I do. I think about how grateful I am to her. How deeply grateful.”

She nodded, biting at her lip before she took a shaky breath. Was it enough? Would it feel like enough to Josie? He watched her for a moment, wondering if she was going to say more, but she didn’t.

For a minute an awkward silence ensued before Josie took a deep breath. “Archie came by a few days ago,” she said casually, and Zach’s muscles bunched. He started to say something, to verify that the police were still sitting vigil outside her house,

but before he could, Josie went on. “He wanted to make me one more offer. Figured after everything I’d been through recently, I might have changed my mind. Might want to hide away somewhere.” Something glittered in her gaze. Amusement? “I told him to go fuck himself . . . nicely of course.”

Zach laughed, and it felt so damn good, he laughed again. “Not too nicely, I hope.”

The same amusement with that fiery edge flashed in her gaze again, her lips tipping. “He got the message. My shotgun helped make the point.”

“You got a shotgun?”

“Yup. Learned how to use it too.”