For a few seconds, Josie felt like she was suffocating. Searching around, she sat on the nearest bench, closed her eyes, and concentrated on her breathing. Something had been niggling at the back of her mind after Ray’s reaction to her mention of the Standing Man. He knew where it was, obviously, though she had no memory of it from her shared time with Ray. But she knew she had seen it before, which meant she had to go back before Ray. She skipped over the horrors of her time with her mother, going back further to her time with her father. Her tiny hand in his as he led her away from a white house and into the woods to look for cardinal flowers. They were wildflowers that grew on long, weedy stalks, with red petals that looked like fingers and a stigma like a tiny periscope shooting out of the center. Josie loved them, almost as much as she had loved hunting for them with her father in the woods. There was only one place they’d ever found them.

She opened her eyes, took in a deep breath, and dialed Lisette again. Voicemail. Again, she dialed the front desk at Rockview. Again, a nurse told her Lisette was taking a nap.

“I’ve been calling for a couple of days now,” Josie said. “She hasn’t called me back. I’m getting concerned.”

There was a beat of heavy silence. Then, “Well, hon, like I told you before, she has been pretty down since the business with Sherri, and without her here, Alton has been on a rampage, harassing the ladies like nobody’s business. Nobody wants to come out of their rooms. Sherri was the only one who could keep him in check. It’s like a funeral home around here. We’re all traumatized, to tell you the truth. I mean, the way she was killed…”

Come to think of it, it was just like Lisette to take Sherri’s untimely death to heart. Josie remembered the way Lisette had reacted to the newscast on Isabelle Coleman’s abduction. “She’s probably thinking of poor Sherri’s mother,” Josie mumbled.

“Oh well, Sherri’s mom passed on a few years ago,” said the receptionist.

“Did she?”

“Yep. Cancer got her. She was quite old though. Had some dementia too.”

“Really?” Josie said.

“Yep. Do you want me to wake your grandmother up, hon?”

Something was emerging in Josie’s mind, like a fogbank clearing. “No, no thanks. I needed to ask her something, but I just remembered what it was I needed to know. I’ll stop by to visit her as soon as I can.”

She hung up and used her phone to log in to the Alcott County Office of Property Assessment website. It took a few minutes to search the database, but she found what she was looking for. She was closing the browser when her phone rang. It was Ray. She sent it to voicemail. He called back immediately. Again, she sent his call to voicemail. She stood on shaky legs and sat back down immediately. She didn’t know if the dizziness was from shock and anxiety or dehydration and sleep deprivation. Maybe all of those things.

Her phone chirped with a text from Ray. Don’t shut me out. Please.

She turned her phone to silent, dropped it in her jacket pocket, and closed her eyes again. Even in the darkness behind her eyelids, the entire world seemed to spin. It was all too much. Luke near death, Ray a liar and now… a criminal? Because that’s what he was now. She had no idea just how much he knew, but he knew enough to implicate himself in something big. Something horrific. If he was sitting on even the slightest suspicion of where Isabelle Coleman was being held, he was every bit as guilty as whoever was keeping her. The thought made her sick to her stomach.

She wondered if he expected her to lie for him, because she was his wife or because she was a cop? Or both? How could he? Ray had always been good and decent, honest and loyal. It was those qualities that made him a good cop. What happened to him? How had she missed it? Maybe she hadn’t been paying attention at all during their marriage.

He had said that he suspected early on that “they” were involved in Coleman’s disappearance, which meant he had reason to believe that his colleagues were involved in something bad before Coleman even went missing. How long had he known? Had he known about June Spencer all along? They had worked together side by side for five years. What had Josie missed? Or had he been privy to things she wasn’t because he was a man? The good old boys’ club. She searched her memory banks for a moment in their marriage when he started to act differently, but she couldn’t think of anything. Their jobs could be stressful; sometimes you would catch a call or a case that left you on edge for weeks.

Nausea clenched her stomach again, but there was simply nothing left for her to expel. How had things spiraled this far? Three weeks earlier she had been a respected police detective in Denton, a town she loved, with a beautiful new house, and an exciting new relationship. Now she was suspended, broke, and quite possibly in mortal danger. Her soon-to-be ex-husband—her high school sweetheart—was a criminal, and her fiancé was barely alive, his insides shredded, and an innocent teenage girl was still missing. How did things get so bad, so fast?

Her eyes snapped open.

“June,” she said aloud.

She pulled her phone back out and scrolled through her contacts until she found Noah Fraley’s cell phone number. As she listened to the phone ring, she wondered if he too was involved. Sweet, shy, bumbling Noah? But yesterday she couldn’t imagine Ray being involved either. She could trust no one.

“Fraley,” Noah said after the sixth ring.

“Noah, it’s me.”

His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Hey, Josie. I’m really sorry about Luke. How… how is he?”

Her heart skipped and sped up again. She hadn’t expected this. He sounded genuine, but she couldn’t trust Noah any more than she could trust a stranger.

“He’s in a medically induced coma,” she said stiffly. “It doesn’t look good.”

“I’m really sorry. How’re you holding up?”

Damn him. “Not good,” she said, tears gathering behind her eyes. If he was involved, she couldn’t let him know she was calling about June. She took a chance that Ray wasn’t at the station. “Um, Noah. Have you seen Ray?”

“Nah. He’s out with everyone else looking for Isabelle Coleman.”

Josie looked toward the entrance. Lara was gone. “You’re still logging tips?”

“No, I’m down in holding. Someone has to babysit June Spencer.”

Relief flooded through her. She strode toward the entrance and made her way to the elevators. “They haven’t moved her yet?”

“Nope. They’re saying maybe tomorrow or the next day. That psych unit in Philly might have a bed by then. Want me to tell Ray to call you?”

“Oh no. Don’t worry about it. I’ll keep trying him. He does this from time to time. Doesn’t want to hear me nag him.”

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Noah said. “Want me to tell him that?”

She had to force a laugh. “Sure. You can tell him that.”

They hung up just as she emerged from the elevators onto the ICU floor. She found Carrieann in the waiting room, her face ashen and tear-streaked. Josie felt a strange weightlessness, like she was made of nothing. Like her pounding heart would propel her right off the ground.

She walked up to Carrieann and gripped her by the shoulders. “What happened? Is he… is he…?” She couldn’t bring herself to utter the word, to even think it.

Carrieann seemed to stare right through her. “They found the shooter,” she said.

“But is Luke okay?”

Carrieann nodded. “He’s the same.”

Her relief felt palpable, like a breath she’d been holding for five minutes rather than five seconds. “They found the shooter?”

“They arrested her an hour ago. The press doesn’t know yet.”

Puzzled, Josie said, “Her?”

Now Carrieann met her eyes. “Denise Poole. Did Luke ever mention her? She’s his ex-girlfriend. She was always a little off, a little obsessed with him, but I never thought she’d try something like this.”

The whole world seemed to narrow to a pinprick. Carrieann was still speaking, but all Josie could hear was a roar in her ears, like a bathtub faucet on full blast. A cold sweat broke out along her forehead and upper lip. She pushed past Carrieann and fell into one of the seats lining the walls. She tried to steady herself by focusing on the painting across the spinning room. It was a copy of a Renoir, she thought, with relief, so purposely out of focus. She wondered if this was how Ginger’s memories looked in her mind, faces blurred and indistinct. She wondered about the painting Denise had mentioned.

Whoever was behind all this clearly had no idea that Josie had met with Denise Poole the day before, or Josie would be dead. She would be dead as soon as Denise gave her name as an alibi.

As the roar in her ears receded, Josie looked up at Carrieann, willing herself to focus. She couldn’t give in to her emotions right now. She had to find a way out of this.

“I just can’t believe it,” Carrieann went on. “Denise. I just never thought she could do something like this.”

Josie said blankly, “Because she didn’t.”

Confusion creased Carrieann’s face. “What? What are you saying?”

Josie beckoned Carrieann closer and whispered, “I need your help. Now.”