Page 59 of Her Dying Secret

He smoothed his hands over his lapels. “You don’t need manners when you look this good.”

Behind him, Josie saw Gretchen roll her eyes. “I’m throwing this stupid ball away.”

“Don’t you want to hear what I’ve got?” Turner asked, spinning to face Gretchen.

Josie sauntered back to her seat. “So you did do some work while we were gone.”

He brushed off his pants. “Hey, when I wasn’t working on your warrant last night, I responded to a half dozen bogus ‘sightings’ of Seth Lee. Apparently, now every time someone sees a damn food wrapper in the woods, they think he’s been camping there.”

From everything they’d gathered, Josie was certain that Seth Lee would never eat packaged food but that wasn’t something they were going to share with the general public.

Turner went on. “We got a tip. From all the news coverage. This lady, Deirdre Velis, called. She owns an antique furniture store somewhere around here. Said she knows Seth Lee. Well.”

Deirdre, like the name of the woman Seth had brought to his brother’s wedding decades ago.

Turner plopped into his chair and held his hand out for Gretchen to throw him the basketball. When she didn’t, he started drumming his fingers against his desk. “Said she might have information to help us find him.”

“Like what?” asked Josie.

“She wouldn’t tell me over the phone but as soon as we hung up, I looked her up. She’s got an old conviction for passing bad checks from almost twenty years ago, but she’s been on the straight and narrow ever since. I also checked into her shop. Furnished Finds. It’s got two box trucks registered to it and one of them has a license plate ending in a 7. Already put out the BOLO. Oh, and ole Deirdre should be arriving downstairs in the next half hour. I drove out to her store last night right after she called so I could interview her, but the place was closed up. Dark. No sign of the truck, or anything at all, really. The place is in the middle of damn nowhere.”

“Which is maybe a good place to keep certain someones you’ve kidnapped?” Gretchen suggested.

Turner raised both palms. “Already thought of that, Parker, but it’s not like I could look inside without being invited or having a warrant.”

That much was true, Josie had to concede.

“Of course, that didn’t stop me from walking into the open truck bay and hollering to high heaven to see if anyone answered,” he added.

“Turner!” Josie said. “That’s?—”

“Against procedure. I know, sweetheart, but there’s a kid missing. Also, I didn’t actually cross the threshold into the showroom so technically, I was still outside.”

But even if he had gone against procedure and stepped inside the building—hell, even if he’d searched the entire place—who would know? Especially since he’d gone there alone.

“Relax,” Turner told them. “I promise, I didn’t do anything that would fuck up this case later, and I called this Deirdre chick as soon as I got back here. She said she was at the grocery store when I stopped by.”

Gretchen raised a brow. “Did you go back out there?”

“Nah. She said she’d be there if I wanted to but it was late and we got another Seth Lee ‘sighting,’ so I made her an appointment for this morning and checked out the tip instead. It was another dead end, by the way. In case you didn’t notice.”

Josie downed the rest of her latte and glanced at the TV again where Seth Lee’s photo appeared once more. The bullet point list was back, too, except this time the words ‘may have a child with him’ had been replaced with, ‘has 10-year-old Rosie Summers in his custody.’”

“We noticed,” Josie muttered.

Turner held out his hand to Gretchen again. This time she threw him the basketball. If Josie didn’t know better, it would seem like a peace offering.

FORTY-TWO

I stay on top of her the whole night so he doesn’t touch her. I think I’m dreaming when she moves under me and groans. Did I die, too? Am I in heaven? Does heaven look the same as the forever-est place but with my mom in it? Do promises still count in heaven?

“Mom,” I whisper.

She groans. Then her eyes open. When she sees me, she bursts into tears. Do moms cry in heaven?

“Rosie.” Her voice sounds like a frog’s croak. Mummy arms wrap around my body. Now she feels warm, so warm. I put my face in her neck like I always do. She smells like flowers, and I don’t ever want to let her go.

“Are we dead?” I whisper.

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