Page 22 of Remember Her Name

For as long as Josie had known them, Shannon and Christian lived two hours away. Now they were retiring and moving to Denton. Patrick had settled here, and they were excited to be closer to Josie, especially since she and Noah were trying to adopt.

Trinity dropped another carrot slice onto the floor and Trout ate it greedily. Without looking up from her task, she said, “Josie, are you going to lurk there all night, or are you going to join us?”

It was still weird having a twin.

Josie walked over to the table and leaned down, giving each of her parents a hug. “You look so tired, honey,” said Shannon, concern pooling in her eyes.

“We saw the news,” Drake said. “No luck finding that mother?”

“Not yet,” said Josie. She crossed the room and leaned her hip against the countertop, watching Trinity toss sliced carrots into a huge salad bowl.

“Guess this means Noah won’t be joining us,” Trinity said as she started slicing a cucumber.

“No,” said Josie. She took out her phone to see if there were any updates even though she’d only left the scene an hour ago. The searches would take time.

“I know this great photographer who’s willing to come here to Denton to take photos of you and Noah for your adoptive parent profile,” said Trinity. “Oh! I got one of my producers and cameramen to agree to come out to help you guys make your video.”

Gently, Drake said, “Trin, maybe Josie and Noah should decide how they want to assemble their profile.”

She waved the knife at him. “I know. I didn’t say they had to use my people. I’m just saying they should.”

“Trinity!” Shannon exclaimed while Josie and Christian laughed.

Trout whined for more carrots.

“I appreciate your help, Trin,” Josie said. “But Noah and I want our profile and video to reflect…us. It has to. We’re asking someone to give us their baby.”

Trinity rolled her eyes. “You’ll still be you. The presentation will just look…”

“Like Josie’s famous journalist sister butt in and made it for her?” said Christian. “Trinity, you should let Josie and Noah do this their way. They’ve gotten this far.”

“Did you know there are actually companies out there who help you create your profile?” Trinity said. “I did a story once, ranking?—”

A collective groan went up in the room. There was no end to the topics that Trinity had done a story on in her career.

Trout whined and lifted one of his paws, pleading for more carrots.

Trinity turned away from the counter and brandished the knife at them. “Complain about my encyclopedic knowledge now, but just wait until the next time one of you needs to know something you can’t find on Google.”

Drake stood and walked over to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Ilove your encyclopedic knowledge. I haven’t used Google once since we met.”

A delighted smile spread across Trinity’s face.

At their feet, Trout gave a defeated sigh and sauntered off, lying across the threshold of the kitchen.

Josie’s cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Before she could take it out to see if there was an update on the Cleo Tate case, Trout jumped up and started barking. He ran toward the front door so fast that his paws slid across the hardwood of the foyer floor. Josie followed, palming her phone and tapping in her passcode as she went. There was a text from Noah. Before she could read it, another notification popped up on her screen, this one from her security camera app. Turner was on her front stoop.

Trout’s barks grew in intensity as he waited for her to answer the door. Once she reassured him that there were no assassins outside, he backed down to a low growl. Josie swung the door open and frowned at Turner.

“What are you doing here? And how did you get my home address?”

Turner was on the first step below the landing, bringing them nearly eye to eye. Under the exterior light, his face looked drawn. He tugged at his beard, looking from Josie to his vehicle, which was parked across her driveway, then back again.

From behind the storm door, Trout continued to growl.

“Quinn.” For the first time in the months they’d been working together, the annoying sexist bravado she’d grown to know and hate was gone. In its place was a tired man in a rumpled suit, paint on his jacket pocket, shifting his weight nervously from side to side.

“Turner,” Josie said. “You didn’t answer either of my questions.”

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