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TWENTY

The scar along the side of Josie’s face tingled. She hadn’t thought about this box in years. Not since she buried it on a shelf in the basement. Noah had been the one to move it from there to here after the flood. Naturally, this abomination had survived, taking on no water damage. Even Lila’s relics were untouchable. Josie wasn’t sure why she’d kept it all this time. Maybe because it had meant something to Lila and having control over something that mattered to that unholy bitch made Josie feel a little powerful. Or maybe it was a physical reminder of the pain she still carried from Lila’s abuse that she just wasn’t ready to part with because, despite all the therapy, all the “work” she had done over the years to erase the effects of her Lila-inflicted trauma, Josie still wasn’t free of it. Maybe her psyche was waiting for the day that this horrid box didn’t matter anymore.

“What the hell is all that?” Trinity asked.

The inside of the box was lined with a worn dark red velvet. The fabric along the lid had come loose along one of the edges, revealing a small gap. Had there been something hidden in there? “This is Lila’s stuff.”

Josie felt the shock that rippled through her sister’s body as sure as if they shared the same physical being. Trinity pointed at it like it might grow claws and attack them. “Why in the hell do you have anything that belonged to that monster?”

A few spots darkened the liner. Josie’s finger lingered over one of them but she didn’t touch it. If it was a recent droplet of blood, she didn’t want to disturb it. “After she went to prison, this box was found among her personal things—at the place she was staying.”

Trinity put a hand on her hip. “You mean the place she was squatting.”

Josie turned her attention to the items that had fallen out of the box. She’d only ever looked inside it once and that was the night Noah had given it to her. She’d taken the items that were personal to her. Some of her cherished jewelry, which Lila had paid to have stolen, a bloodied childhood stuffed animal, and a photo of her father, Eli Matson. At the time, she hadn’t had the energy to investigate the origins of the rest of the box’s contents. Lila had already taken so much from her, Josie hadn’t wanted to give her more time by obsessing over the things Lila had collected.

Josie had made a choice to put Lila where she belonged—in the past.

Now, though, she couldn’t be sure what, if anything, was missing from the box. Her brain worked back to the evening Noah had presented her with it. They hadn’t even started dating but she’d been staying at his house. She’d been recovering from a broken wrist, courtesy of Lila, sitting on his couch watching television. He’d come home and kissed her on the forehead. Then they’d opened it together.

What was in it? She closed her eyes briefly, trying to put herself back in that moment. The only reason the memory was so accessible, so clear, was because of Noah. He was the first person who ever knew the true extent of what Lila had done to her. Even Ray hadn’t known everything. Nor had Lisette, though not from lack of trying to pry it out of her. During the time that Noah had offered up his home as a sanctuary, Josie had told him everything. She’d laid herself bare and he’d wanted her anyway, damage and all. The end of Lila’s reign had been the beautiful beginning of them.

Trinity lowered herself to the floor again, across from Josie, pushing Christmas decorations aside so she could get closer to Lila’s twisted heirlooms. “I don’t understand.”

Josie scanned the items on the floor where the box had opened. An ornate, antique pillbox made of silver that had long ago tarnished, a Ziploc bag containing small, black cylinders which Josie didn’t recall seeing before. They were metal, their circumference not much bigger than a pen. Some kind of tool? Pieces of drill bits? They were smooth, not fluted, and only about an inch long. Maybe spanner bits? Whatever they were, Lila had undoubtedly used them for nefarious reasons. There was also a gold cigar cutter, a small lock of brown hair tied up with a blue bow, newspaper clippings—including one about the fire Lila had set at the Payne home—and a miniature teacup, like the kind children played with. Josie searched her memory for what else had been in the box that was no longer there.

“There was jewelry,” she said. “A brooch, some necklaces, a bracelet, I think.” She couldn’t remember now. “It’s gone.”

“Was any of it valuable?”

“I don’t know.” She couldn’t see Lila holding onto anything that had financial value, especially near the end of her life when she was desperate for money. It was usually things that held emotional value for her victims that she enjoyed hoarding.

“I guess if you’re breaking into someone’s house, you don’t stop to examine every little thing to try and figure out how much you might get for it.” Trinity sighed and gestured at the mess around them. “All this is about a robbery?”

It was almost the same thing Mace Phelan had said last night when Josie and Turner delivered the news that Gina had been stabbed to death. Had Noah been stabbed? Is that where all the blood came from? Josie’s heart went from racing to thundering. Dizziness made her head spin. She wasn’t going there. Trying to steady her breath, to force her body back to some kind of equilibrium, she studied the items again.

There were other things that had been there the day she first opened it, but Josie couldn’t quite bring them into focus. What else?

“Photos,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“There were photos in this box. They were all of men. Not just Eli. A bunch of men. Now they’re not here.”

Trinity looked around. “You mean photos of all the men she either killed or disfigured?”

“I don’t know. I never—no one ever tried to track them down. It wasn’t like they were pictures of her torturing them or anything. Denton PD didn’t want to waste time and resources trying to find them since there was no evidence that she’d harmed them.”

“Oh my God. Really?” Trinity said. “Literally the only thing Lila Jensen ever did was rain death and destruction everywhere she went, and no one wanted to investigate the photos of the men she kept in this little trophy case of terror?”

“There was a public appeal after she was arrested,” Josie reminded her. “We did the Dateline episodes! The photos weren’t shared, but Lila’s information was and?—”

“There was a tip line,” Trinity filled in. “Briefly. For anyone who had information about any additional crimes Lila might have committed.”

“No one ever called it.”

“Well, are you sure the photos aren’t here somewhere? We should clear more of this stuff out of the way.” Trinity went to touch the pillbox that had fallen out of the box, but Josie stopped her.

“I think that’s blood.” She pointed at the droplets on the liner of the wooden box. “Don’t touch anything. I have to call Heather. First, I want to take some pictures with my phone.”