Page 42 of Her Dying Secret

Eyes back on his phone, Turner walked away. Josie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Just talking to him for a few minutes made her head pound. Somehow, every word out of his mouth managed to grate on her. Noah ran his hand up and down her back. “I already talked with the Chief about the welfare check.”

“He wasn’t interviewing a witness,” she said. “He was flirting!”

“I believe you,” Noah said. “I’ll conduct a thorough investigation into his conduct and discuss it with the Chief. It will get handled. Just put it out of your mind for now.”

She snatched up the cat carrier. “Noah, Turner is not just a shitty coworker.”

He waited for her to say more, as if sensing she wanted to unload. She hesitated. Yes, Seth Lee could have killed her while Turner stood on the front steps of Mira’s house laughing at everything Bobbi Thomas said, but Josie also bore some responsibility. She, too, had let her judgment lapse when she decided to search the house herself. She could have insisted that Turner accompany her and not moved until he joined her. Yet, she shouldn’t have to insist that he follow basic procedure.

Noah said, “Say what you need to say.”

Josie sighed. Every word hurt coming from her tender throat, but she had to get it out. “I don’t want to be a tattletale so I’m going to talk to you as my husband right now, okay? Not as my superior officer.”

He smiled that smile he reserved just for her, and the mere sight of it eased her headache a bit. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that.”

She arched a brow. “I’m your wife right now, remember?”

“Right. Okay. Go on.”

“Tonight was bad. Yes, Turner did save me from being attacked by a German shepherd but most of the time, he isn’t even around. He rarely even answers his phone when he’s on shift—despite the fact that he’s glued to it ninety percent of the time—and don’t get me started on his paperwork. He’s messy and disorganized and I don’t know how the hell he even keeps track of anything.”

Noah’s voice dropped, his tone gentler. “If he wants to keep this job, he’ll make sure he doesn’t put a fellow officer at risk the way he did tonight. As your husband? I want to kick his ass, but we all have jobs to do and as long as the Chief intends to keep Turner around, we have to live with it. Also, not everyone works the way Mett did with his desk organized to within an inch of its life and his reports so thorough and timely that it made the rest of us look lazy.”

Josie couldn’t help but laugh.

He brushed an errant lock of hair from her face, his knuckles gently grazing her jaw in one of the few places she didn’t hurt. “We just need to be more careful when working with Turner, and as long as he’s here, we have to get used to him because we have no other choice.”

She didn’t point out that it had already been nearly five months, and that the only person in Denton who had gotten used to him was the kid at the corner store near the stationhouse that sold him energy drinks. And she was pretty sure even that guy didn’t like him.

“Now can I be your superior officer again?” Noah grinned.

Josie laughed again, ignoring the way it made her throat burn. “Are you trying to make that sexy? Don’t try to make that sexy.”

He looked around. “Well, not here.”

“Good choice.”

“We’ll talk later at home.”

Barely able to conceal her smile, she swung the cat carrier. “Come on, help me catch this cat. I want it to be in good hands when we find Mira and bring her back.”

She hoped saying it would make it true.

Noah followed her inside. The two ERT officers dispatched to Mira’s home were working in the upstairs hall, likely taking photos of the damaged drywall and the blood Josie had gotten on the carpet after Seth punched her. In the kitchen, the table and chairs remained on their sides. They edged around the scattered roses, avoiding the shards of broken glass from the vase and the water that had splashed everywhere when it broke. The lower cabinet door was still open but now the cat stretched out across the space, lazily licking one of its paws. Josie set the carrier down nearby and opened its door. Then she knelt in front of the cabinet. Noah waited behind her, ready to pounce if the cat decided to dart. It stopped licking when Josie reached for it. As her hands brushed its fur, it hissed and sprang up, batting at her with its paws. After a brief struggle that resulted in several slashes across her hands and wrists, she got it into the carrier. Noah latched the door closed.

“Should I try to salvage some of this food?” Josie asked, grabbing the torn food bag.

As she pulled it toward her, something fluttered from the bottom of the drawer over the top of the cabinet. An envelope. As it fell, its contents tumbled out, landing on the food scattered across the cabinet floor. Josie blinked to make sure she wasn’t imagining things.

“Josie?” said Noah.

Mira’s name was handwritten across the front of the envelope. Tape surrounded its edges. A shiny, colorful brochure for Tranquil Trails Equestrian Academy had come partially unfolded, one flap standing straight. Inside the brochure, affixed to a photo of the rolling hills and horse trails, was a Post-it note.

“Get one of the ERT officers,” Josie said.

THIRTY-ONE

I wish I knew how to count hours because then I would know how long I’ve been all alone, and also how long since the last time I had a visit. I love visits most of all. They remind me of the fun before-time when I pretended to be a normal girl and had all the things normal girls have. Before we had to run and hide from the bad people, never stopping, always moving until I felt so tired.

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