Page 3 of Remember Her Name

Drake looked from her to her SUV. “Why aren’t you sitting in your car? In the AC?”

A smile curved Josie’s lips and she used her cup to motion toward the house. “Wait for it…”

Drake studied the property. Behind a wrought-iron fence, a Jack Russell terrier lay on its back, sunbathing on the front lawn. Folding his arms across his chest, Drake said, “Looks like a hotbed of crime.”

Anticipatory glee stirred in Josie’s heart. “Just wait.”

“Shouldn’t you be in there? Did you get a call?”

She sipped her latte, not even caring that the hot drink was going to make her sweat more. “We did. Margaret Bonitz. She’s an elderly widow. Last year she called 911 a half-dozen times saying that someone was breaking into her house and stealing things—but nothing valuable. Dishes and flatware. The remote control. Weird stuff. Responding officers couldn’t find any evidence of a break-in. They started to think she was senile.”

Drake turned away from the house and dipped his chin, watching Josie carefully. “She wasn’t senile, was she?”

“Nope. Neighborhood kids were messing with her. Gretchen had Mrs. Bonitz order a cheap camera, set it up for her, and caught them. Anyway, now when she calls, we come. Gretchen told her to call the investigative team, not 911.”

Drake pursed his lips, looking impatient. He wasn’t in Denton in his official capacity as an FBI agent. He only ever came to Denton with his girlfriend, Trinity Payne, who was also Josie’s twin sister. Trinity was an accomplished journalist who had moved from anchoring a national network news broadcast to having her own show,Unsolved Crimes with Trinity Payne. In fact, she was still in New York City finishing up an episode. It was very unusual for Drake to travel without her, much less for him to request a few minutes of Josie’s time in private. Something was up, but right now, Josie was solely focused on Margaret Bonitz’s front door.

Realizing this, Drake sighed. He pushed a hand through his dark hair, somehow making his already perfectly tousled mane look even more dashing. He couldn’t be a more perfect fit forJosie’s sister. She hoped he wasn’t in Denton early to tell her that he was about to dump Trinity.

“If you got a call, why are you out here?” he asked.

“I’m waiting for my colleague. The new guy.”

He tipped his head back, letting out a long breath. “Oh. Douchebag.”

“I’m not supposed to call him that anymore. Out loud. But yeah, that’s the one.” He was still saved in her phone contacts as Douchebag, though.

Detective Kyle Turner had been hired about a year ago to replace their fallen colleague, Detective Finn Mettner. Denton was a small city in central Pennsylvania. Its central district—where Josie and Drake now stood—straddled the banks of a branch of the Susquehanna River but the city limits extended far beyond that, its rural roads threading through the mountains that surrounded it. Its population was enough to support a decent-sized police department as well as a four-member investigative team which included Josie, her husband, Lieutenant Noah Fraley, Detective Gretchen Palmer, and the newest and most loathsome member of the team, Turner.

“He hasn’t gotten any better then?” Drake asked.

Josie took another sip of her latte. “Well, I’m more inclined to throat punch him now than knee him in his balls, if that tells you anything.”

Drake snickered. “I’m not sure what that says about him—or you.”

“He’s still late filing his shitty reports. Half the time we have no idea where he is. One of these days his phone will need to be surgically removed from his hand—if Gretchen doesn’t shove it up his ass before then—but we’re still working on his inability to call us by our actual names.”

The front door of Mrs. Bonitz’s house opened and Turner emerged, phone in hand, looking as annoyed as ever. Margaretfollowed him onto the porch, chattering away, pointing an arthritic finger up at his face. Apparently, he made as good a first impression on her as he did on everyone else. Without looking away from his phone screen, Turner said something to her that made her shake her head in disgust.

Finally noticing the presence of his owner and Turner, the dog flipped onto its feet.

“What are we waiting for?” asked Drake.

“You’ll see.”

Turner waved Mrs. Bonitz away and started down the walk, head bent to his phone, thumb scrolling. The dog let out a growl. Turner didn’t notice. The dog followed him to the gate. Turner fumbled to unlatch it. Mrs. Bonitz’s dog took that opportunity to lift his leg and make his displeasure with the large unwelcome human known.

Josie hid her giggle behind her coffee cup.

A stream of expletives burst from Turner’s mouth as he watched the dog dart away, back to the safety of the porch. Mrs. Bonitz still stood there, now wearing a satisfied smile. Turner looked down at his soaked pantleg and let out a groan. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Finally, he got the gate unlatched and stalked over to Josie, not sparing Drake a glance. Turner towered over her, his deep-set blue eyes flashing with fury as he speared a finger at her face. “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”

Josie didn’t back away. “I know that when you come here, if you don’t leave fast enough, Mrs. Bonitz’s dog will piss on your leg. I did not know you would take so long getting the gate open.”

Turner looked down at his pantleg again, growling. He wore a suit to work every day, even in the middle of the summer. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

Drake watched, an amused smile on his face.

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