All the Pretty Faces Read Free Page B

get her attention. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t place him. “Have you visited Billy in the psychiatric unit?” he asked.
    Josie fought another shiver as she recalled walking down that long, cold hallway. A guard had escorted her into a large sterile-looking room with a table in the middle. Billy had shuffled in, handcuffed and shackled, his eyes vacant and glassy with drugs. When he’d sat down, he twisted his hands together, picking at his nails, which he’d bitten to the quick.
    When he’d finally looked up at her, he’d asked if she’d brought his tools.
    He wanted to open his taxidermy office again.
    “Miss DuKane, you did visit him.” The reporter consulted his notes. “I spoke with the nursing staff and they confirmed it.”
    So he had been baiting her. “Yes, I talked to him. He’s a very disturbed man.”
    “That doesn’t justify the fact that he killed three of our local girls,” someone muttered.
    “He should be put to death like they were,” another woman said.
    Josie schooled her reaction. As much as Billy haunted her nightmares, she didn’t know if she believed he should be given the death penalty.
    Although she would be dead if Mona and Cal hadn’t shown up. She’d failed Billy’s tests and tried to run. He’d caught her, tied her up, then said he had to kill her.
    A raindrop fell and plopped against the podium, lightning zigzagging across the sky. More whispers and rumblings of protest echoed through the group.
    Josie lifted a hand to signal them to let her speak. “I didn’t write this story to condone what Billy and his mother did or upset any one of you. Understanding what drove both of these individuals to commit these heinous crimes will hopefully help the victims and their families in their recovery. I also hope it raises awareness of the cycle of domestic abuse.” And maybe teenage bullying. Although the mothers of the teenage victims resented the suggestion that their children had treated Charlene unfairly.
    “Nothing will bring back our daughters,” one woman cried.
    “You should let them rest in peace,” another local added with disdain. “Not cause more agony to their families by making them repeatedly relive the sadistic crimes.”
    Sara stepped to the front. “Every time I see your book and think about watching my daughter being murdered on screen, I feel sick.”
    Josie tensed. Sara had talked to her freely during her interviews.
    Apparently she regretted that decision.
    Josie felt for the woman. She couldn’t treat her like a stranger or dismiss her emotions. “I’m sorry, Sara,” Josie said softly. “I understand your grief and pain. This is not easy for me either. I still have night terrors about being held by Billy Linder myself. This book is meant to honor those we lost. I hope you’ll see it that way as well.”
    Tension escalated as a cluster of folks in the back shouted disagreement. Someone yelled at her to leave town.
    Others called out support, excited that the filming would boost the town’s fledgling economy. Already the inn had been refurbished, and a local builder had renovated cabins on the river for production crews and others involved in the filmmaking process.
    Cameras flashed, recording the scene. Reporters began to comb through the crowd, taking notes as they questioned individuals.
    She should have kept up her distance. Letting down her guard with Sara had opened her up to being vulnerable.
    Josie backed away from the podium, her breathing labored. The heated stares and shouts seemed directed at her. Tempers were rising.
    The air grew hot around her, cloying. Stifling.
    She had to escape.
    “We don’t care about the money.” This voice came from someone in the back. “We want our nice quiet town back.”
    She wasn’t sure Graveyard Falls had ever been a nice quiet town.
    Nerves on edge, she scanned the group, then the street, searching for the sheriff. Although he was supposed to be on guard in case of problems, he’d