Page 17 of Remember Her Name

“I’ll do the warrant,” she said.

“You have a really low opinion of me, don’t you?” He sounded insulted.

In spite of the circumstances, Josie laughed. “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Listen, I know Park— Palmer hates me, and your hubby isn’t that thrilled with me either—although I gotta admit he’s beenpretty fair and a hell of a lot nicer than you two chicks—shit, I mean ladies. Women. Whatever.”

“Just say detectives,” Josie said irritably.

“Fine. Anyway, I thought you and I were getting along.”

She took a quick glance at him, nonplussed to find he looked serious. “This is your idea of getting along? You know what? We don’t have time for this right now.”

There were a few beats of silence. Then Turner said, “Let me do the warrant. I’ll be fast and then you can apologize to me again because that is my new favorite thing. Josie Quinn apologizing to Kyle Turner.”

She briefly tried to calculate whether it was worth the disciplinary action if she punched him in the face. But Noah had told her repeatedly that they had to learn to work with Turner. “I’ll drop you off at the stationhouse and then I’ll go get food and coffee. If you’re not finished by the time I get back, I’m taking over.”

“And if it’s done, you’ll apologize?”

“No.”

She waited for him to continue nagging her, but he was surprisingly silent until she sped up.

“Slow down, Quinn.”

But Josie didn’t want to slow down. Every moment in the search for Cleo Tate was critical. Josie’s instincts and experience told her that every moment they didn’t locate Cleo brought her closer to death.

TEN

Saliva pooled in Josie’s mouth as she watched the barista at Komorrah’s Koffee prepare a blonde latte. The Chief’s preferred drink—a Red Eye—waited in a cupholder on the counter. Beside it was a paper bag filled with pastries. All the ones her team liked best. While most of the tables and booths in the café were full, Josie was the only person in line. She was too busy wondering if she should get herself two lattes to register the gust of hot air at her back as a new customer entered. A large presence loomed behind her, unusually close. Warm breath skated across her temple. It couldn’t possibly be Turner. There was no way he’d finished the warrant by now. For a split second, she considered the best way to enforce her personal space—use her words or accidentally hit him in the groin when she turned to confront him. Then the scent of her husband’s aftershave overtook the smell of coffee and pastries. Relief flooded her system. Noah pressed a hand against her lower back, and she sagged into him. As always, his touch soothed away some of the tension in her body.

He planted a kiss on her cheek. “The Chief called me.”

Josie looked up into his hazel eyes. He was freshly showered, his wavy dark hair still damp. She said, “Gretchen’s busy with abody in the river. She’s working on the reports now. It’s just me and Turner, but this is definitely an all-hands-on-deck situation. Turner’s working on the warrant for Bluelink as we speak. I hope.”

Noah smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her jaw in a way that quieted some of her frenetic anxiety. “I’m surprised you let him.”

The barista handed Josie her latte. Then she took Noah’s order, which included drinks for him and Gretchen as well as a second blonde latte for Josie. Already, half of the one in her hand was gone. While they waited for Noah’s order to be completed, he pulled Josie to the side of the counter. “I got the broad strokes from the Chief. I know about the polaroid. Saw the social media posts with Cleo Tate’s photo. I know the suspect stole the car that he used to abduct her. What else do I need to know?”

Josie told him about Remy Tate and Turner’s theory that he could be involved. Then she brought him up to speed on their interview with the Hamptons.

“When units canvassed their street, they found one neighbor at the other end of the block who has surveillance footage of the car driving past—away from the Hampton home—around threea.m. They followed it on camera about three blocks west and then lost it. LPRs didn’t pick it up anywhere until this morning when it left the park. Then once it left the park, Dougherty was able to catch it on camera passing a laundromat a few blocks away but then lost it. Although none of that will matter once we get the GPS report.”

“Let’s talk about Cleo Tate’s husband,” Noah said. “You said Turner thinks he could be involved. If he stole the car, he would have had to go to the Hamptons’ on foot. Could he have done that?”

Josie calculated the distance and timing. “It’s possible, but it would have been a lot of walking to get to the Hamptons’neighborhood. Also, the Tates have a four-month-old. What are the chances the baby sleeps through the night and Cleo didn’t notice her husband wasn’t home in the early morning hours?”

Noah gave the barista a smile as she pushed his order across the counter in a cupholder. He put the Chief’s Red Eye in the last slot, grabbed the paper bag, and they walked out together. “But Cleo isn’t here to tell us if her husband was home or not in the middle of the night. Or maybe he does have a mistress and she helped him so he could get back in enough time that Cleo didn’t notice him going out at two or three in the morning.”

Josie sipped her latte as they headed down the street toward the stationhouse. “Also possible, but that doesn’t explain the polaroid.”

“True.”

One-handed, she slipped her phone from her back pocket and pulled up the photo to show Noah.

“That’s not cryptic at all.”

“I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean or why it was left behind,” Josie said. “Are we supposed to look for Cleo outdoors?”

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