Which brought on the second, not-so-great problem.
The search for the masked person was now the top priority of the department.
JJ rubbed the side of her index finger with her thumb. The glove was smooth at both spots. She knew she didn’t leave any evidence behind during her search of Josiah’s home…but that sureness had rested on the fact that no one would be doing an in-depth search of the place behind her.
Had she made any mistakes in covering her tracks?
Was there anything in there that could tie her to the crime scene?
“No,” she whispered to herself.
Still, she couldn’t feel completely at ease about it.
This was the second person on her list who she had crossed off and she’d managed to get into not one but two things of hot water alongside of her goal.
JJ decided then and there she would cool off her search for a bit.
She wanted to find her brother but, more than anything, sheneededto find him.
And she needed to find him beforetheydid.
JJ stayed in the Alberts’ home until eventually all law enforcement left. If they found anything tying her to the scene, she never got a call or visit once she returned home. It should have made her rest easier but falling asleep that night was more difficult than she thought it would be.
She thought about Josiah falling in the field.
She thought about the blood on their clothes.
She thought about waiting alone in the lobby as he was rushed past to surgery.
JJ wondered if he was doing better. She wondered if he was alone.
Then, because her life had had moments of intense cruelty woven into its fabric, her thoughts slid even further back in time.
She saw her dark hair hanging down, reaching toward the roof of the car. There was glass everywhere. There was blood too.
There was no use in JJ squeezing her eyes shut. Then, or now. The image was there, and it would stay there for a while. So she embraced the pain and let her eyes lose focus on the ceiling above her now.
Like she’d told Price earlier, she had seen much, much worse than Josiah Teller in that field.
CHAPTER SIX
Josiah Teller survived his surgery. A week later, he was recovering well in a suite in Lane Medical.
“He remembers someone knocking on his front door, but after that he said he can’t recall a thing.” Detective Williams had his arms crossed over his chest. Outsiders might think he was being nonchalant, but Price knew him well enough to understand he was brimming with anger.
An entire week had gone by and not one stitch of evidence or a lead had been found about Josiah’s attacker.
And now he was having to admit that to their newly returned Sheriff Weaver.
Liam sat at the head of the meeting table, fiddling absently with his wedding band. He tilted his chin to the side a little in thought.
“The doc says it could be a trauma response given how violent the attack seemed to be,” he said. “That or the very real possibility that the physical injury was too much. Either way, I don’t think we can bank on Josiah remembering anytime soon.”
Price’s coffee mug between his hands was empty. He’d finished part of a patrol before joining the recap and was starting to feel the lack of caffeine now. He had already been feeling frustration way before Sheriff Weaver had entered the building.
“I’ve been visiting Josiah and each time we talk, we always find our way back to the fact that Josiah really can’t figure out why anyone would attack him or go through his house,” Price added.
“It could have been random,” Rose offered. She was standing in the doorway of the meeting room, paperwork in her hand. She was on the other side dealing with a public intoxication arrest near the county line. She pointed in the direction of the area of the sheriff’s department that housed the two holding cells. “My drunk friend earlier was willing to fight anyone and everyone just because they were there. It could have been kind of the same thing. Our attacker did what they did simply because Josiah opened the door.”
