Page 68 of Her Dying Secret

“But why even report the vandalism?” Turner asked. “If she knew who was doing it and had no intention of turning him in?”

That was one of the things that Josie simply couldn’t figure out. “No idea.”

Turner huffed out a breath as the trail grew steeper. “So April is in Newsham for almost a year, poking around in Seth’s business, and he kidnaps her. Then, instead of killing her right away and neutralizing that threat, he instead keeps her alive until that day at the produce stand. Do you think that Mira knew the whole time that he had April?”

Josie thought about the wounds on Mira’s arms. “No. Unless Seth was using April as leverage to keep Mira under his thumb. To make sure that she didn’t get any ideas about taking Rosie away from him.”

Once they reached the road, Turner stopped to catch his breath. “These are some fucked-up people, Quinn.”

There were three times as many police vehicles this time and one ambulance to carry the remains to the morgue. They crossed Prout Road. Beyond the lights of the police vehicles, the driveway was cloaked in blackness, but as Josie went to get inside her SUV, a beam of light bobbed, headed toward them. She could hear Rebecca and Jon’s raised voices as they approached.

“I will not, Jon! I can’t believe you would expect me to keep this a secret!”

“It’s completely irrelevant! I’m telling you, Bec, I don’t think he’s ever set foot in the place!”

Turner was on the passenger’s side. He tapped the roof and then pointed toward the Lees. Josie followed him. They met the couple where the first row of patrol cars sat, their beacon lights strobing. Rebecca looked even more furious than she had earlier. Jon looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His clothes were dirty, his hair uncombed. He trailed behind his wife, hands outstretched in supplication. “Please, Bec.”

Turner folded his arms over his chest, peering down at Jon like he was a rodent. “We just heard that whole thing, so we know Mrs. Lee’s got something to spill. You can stop begging now.”

Jon cursed under his breath and turned his back on them. Rebecca pointed her flashlight beam at his head. “Really? You’re here. You should be the one to tell them.”

When Jon said nothing, she swung her torch toward the ground. “You were right. My husband has been renting Seth a room at a boardinghouse for the last ten years. Behind my back.”

FIFTY

“Let me help you with that, sweetheart.” Turner came up behind Josie and started to adjust the shoulder straps on her bulletproof vest.

She shrugged him off. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

“Yeah,” he goaded. “You can do everything. Except hop fences.”

Josie ignored his quiet laughter. She wasn’t getting sucked in. Not today. She scanned the parking lot of a local dentist that Denton PD and the Alcott County Sheriff’s Office had chosen to meet up at before converging on the boardinghouse where Jon Lee had been renting his brother a room for the past ten years. It was located in Bellewood, which fell under the jurisdiction of the Alcott County Sheriff. Three days ago, after Rebecca told them about the boardinghouse and then got Jon to give them the address, they had contacted the sheriff’s office to advise that they intended to arrest Seth Lee—if he was there. First, they put the house under surveillance. They didn’t want to converge on it with a huge police presence only to find out he wasn’t there. By trying to execute the warrant without confirming that he was on the premises they risked the other residents warning him off—making any future attempts futile.

As much as Josie hated waiting, especially with Rosie and Mira at risk, if Seth was there, she didn’t want to blow their best chance at arresting him by moving too quickly and without enough intelligence. The white box truck registered to Deirdre Velis’s Furnished Finds was in the rear parking lot, which had sent a buzz of excitement through the investigative team but then, after three days without any sightings of Seth Lee, Chief Chitwood had concluded that he’d likely dumped the truck there and moved on. He’d instructed them to go in using a less aggressive approach, which meant trying to get a key to Seth’s room from someone on-site, if possible, rather than breaking down his door. The truck could be impounded afterward. They’d brought enough manpower to put a perimeter around the entire premises in addition to the officers who would secure the inside of the building. Right now, everyone milled about, checking their equipment. Noah moved among them, giving out instructions.

Behind her, Turner perched on the hood of his car, sucking down one of his energy drinks. In his other hand was his cell phone. He used his thumb to scroll. Without looking up, he said, “This is taking forever.”

Ignore, ignore, ignore, said the voice in her head. Another Alcott County Sheriff cruiser pulled into the parking lot. A few minutes later, Noah gathered all the officers together and went over the plan a final time.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through Josie’s veins as they got into their vehicles. The boardinghouse was only two blocks away on a residential street. The three-story building with blue siding towered over the neighboring houses. A driveway ran alongside it, the asphalt cracked in multiple places, forming a web connecting over a dozen potholes. There and around the front porch, weeds sprang up from every opening. In moments they had the entire place surrounded.

The sagging wooden planks of the porch creaked beneath their feet as Josie, Turner and two other officers approached the front door. Additional teams waited out front. A cluster of metal mailboxes were affixed to the wall beside the door. Only some of them bore names. She didn’t see one for Seth Lee. The front door was locked. Someone had handwritten the word Office in marker below the single doorbell. Josie pressed the button and was rewarded with a muffled ding from somewhere deep inside the building.

A moment later, the door swung open. A man appeared. A black ballcap was pulled low over his forehead but his eyes darted from Josie to Turner and then the large police presence behind them. Frozen in place, his lips parted as if to speak, and then clamped shut. He was young. Maybe eighteen or nineteen. His black T-shirt, jeans, and tan work boots looked old and worn. His forearms were tan and corded with muscle.

“I’m Detective Josie Quinn from the Denton Police Department,” she said, producing the arrest warrant. “We’re looking for Seth Lee.”

His eyes darted to Turner again, the officers gathered behind him, then back to Josie. He was unnaturally still.

“Do you work in the office?” Josie asked.

He relaxed slightly. “Yeah, I help out the landlord and she takes some off my rent. Uh, Mr. Lee has a room here. Third floor, number 12. But no one sees him. He’s never around. I don’t even think he sleeps here.”

“We’re still going to have to check out his room,” Josie said. “It would go more smoothly if you could provide us with a key.”

He tugged at the brim of his ballcap. “Uh, yeah, I guess I could do that.”

Turner stepped forward, his large body filling the doorframe. “You got a name, kid?”

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