Page 74 of Her Dying Secret

Deirdre’s eyes seized on Turner again as he appeared behind Josie and Noah. “No. It’s just me.”

Turner’s breath ruffled Josie’s hair. “Hey, I gotta hit the head. Deirdre, honey, you got a restroom in this place or what?”

Deirdre’s fingers flexed along the handle of the bat. “It’s not a public restroom.”

Turner smiled and winked at her. “I’m not the public, Deirdre. I’m here to serve the good citizens of Denton, including you. If you haven’t noticed, we’re about a million miles from civilization. I’ll never make it back to Denton proper in time and these two”—he clapped a hand on each of their shoulders—“they sure get mad when I make a mess in the car.”

Even though they had come in separate vehicles, Noah smiled and went along with the joke. “He doesn’t like it when we make him walk.”

“I could go out back, but I’m not entirely sure I won’t see a bear out there. I know you don’t want me to get mauled by a bear.”

Deirdre, her pleasant facade slipping, looked like that was exactly what she wanted but relented, gesturing toward the hallway. “Last door on the left. Hurry, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch anything.”

“Not even to flush?”

Before Deirdre could respond, he was gone, laughter trailing behind him, his long strides eating up the distance to the hall in a heartbeat. Once he turned the corner, they could no longer see him from where they stood.

“I’m sorry,” Noah said. “We’ll be out of your hair soon. Just a few more questions. When you and Seth were dating, did you live together?”

“What?” Deirdre said. “I don’t see how that is relevant to—to what’s going on now.”

The sound of a door creaking floated from the dim recesses of the hallway.

“Standard questions,” Noah said.

“No, I don’t think so. These don’t seem standard to me.” Deirdre pushed away from the counter and turned in the direction of the hall. Her expression hardened. “Where is your friend? What’s taking him so long?”

Josie knew Turner was up to something, probably doing a plain-view search of whatever he could see along the hall. He wouldn’t be able to open any doors or otherwise nose around, but anything that was in plain sight was fair game in terms of them being able to act on it. It was the same strategy Josie had employed the first time she’d been inside the Lees’ house.

Except the Lees hadn’t looked downright homicidal when Josie emerged from the bathroom.

Josie circled the desk, putting herself between Deirdre and the mouth of the hallway. “If you needed to get in touch with Seth, urgently, how would you do it?”

“I wouldn’t. I told you?—”

A loud crash, followed by another, swallowed up the rest of her words. Next came a grunt, another crash. Wood splintered. Then Turner’s voice, “Stop right there. Get on your fucking knees?—”

Josie and Noah unsnapped their holsters at the same time and drew their weapons. A shot rang out from the hall, the boom echoing through the cavernous showroom. Deirdre picked up the bat and drew it back, pinning Josie with a murderous glare. The concussive noise of the gunshot faded enough for Josie to make out the sounds of a struggle in the hallway. Noah aimed his pistol at Deirdre. “Put the bat down,” he said calmly. Then, to Josie, “Go.”

FIFTY-FOUR

Josie sprinted into the hallway but pulled up short when she saw Turner locked in battle with Seth Lee. His pistol lay on the floor on the other side of their fused bodies. They were still on their feet, each man trying to gain control of the other. Seth pinned a forearm against Turner’s throat, holding him against the wall. She started to call out commands for Seth to stop, but Turner kneed him and then the two of them spun, crashing into the other wall. The plaster gave way but not even the groin shot was able to slow Seth down long enough for Turner to gain control of the fight. Josie couldn’t get a clear shot. They were moving too quickly. Behind her, she heard Noah shouting commands at Deirdre. Once he had her cuffed, he would call for backup.

Seth headbutted Turner. The crunch of bone went right through her. Blood spurted from Turner’s nose. He stumbled and Seth drove him backward, into a wooden door. Josie holstered her pistol, ready to join the fight. If she couldn’t shoot Seth without potentially injuring or killing Turner, she wasn’t going to stand around and watch Seth beat him senseless. But then the door groaned and cracked. Turner’s hands reached for Seth’s throat. Before he could grab flesh, Seth fisted a handful of Turner’s hair and slammed the back of his head into the door. Josie charged down the hallway, aiming her shoulder at Seth’s hip. He took the impact of her body against his with a grunt, all of his focus still on Turner.

Noah was behind them now, reaching past Josie for one of Seth’s arms. It slipped out of his reach. Josie reset herself, pivoting to the other side of his body. Between her and Noah, they would be able to subdue him.

But before they could take hold of him, Seth rammed Turner’s head into the door again and it splintered right off its frame, buckling inward. The men tumbled over a concrete landing and down a set of stairs into darkness below. Josie heard the thuds of their bodies making contact with the steps, punctuated by grunts. Only a small portion of the door was still attached to the frame. Jagged edges poked out from its ruined remains.

Noah stepped past it onto the landing, pistol drawn. “Turner?”

Josie scanned the inside of the doorway. No light switches. No dangling cord or bulb over the landing. She followed Noah as he started down the steps. Her throat felt like it was closing up. She hated dark, enclosed spaces. Another remnant from her horrific childhood. She’d braved them before, but they always sent her to the edge of panic. Even now, she could barely hear, barely concentrate over the thundering of her own heartbeat.

To make sure she could still form words, she, too, called, “Turner?”

“Down here!”

She focused on Noah’s back as her body automatically dropped into box breathing. There was a brief flash of light from the base of the steps which seemed a thousand miles away. Turner’s phone screen. Not enough to illuminate anything, although he was pointing it away from the stairs.

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