Page 14 of Husband Missing

“That’s all we have for now. We’ll be in touch.” Turner dropped his phone back into his pocket and came up with a business card. “In the meantime, if you have any questions or you come up with any of the stuff we asked for, give us a call.”

Mace crossed the small space, edging past Tilly to take Turner’s card.

“You can also contact me,” Josie said, holding out one of hers. Mace reached for it, but Tilly was quicker, snatching it from Josie’s hand. Their fingers brushed. Tilly pinned her with that intense stare again. It might have been unnerving to anyone else. Watching the two of them, Turner’s fingers started tapping again. Josie could practically hear his thoughts.

This lady is creepy, sweetheart.

But Tilly Phelan didn’t unsettle Josie. She wasn’t creepy. She was a mother who had just lost her daughter to violence.

“You’ll find the person who did this,” Tilly said. It wasn’t a question.

NINE

Josie leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her arms over her head, trying to loosen muscles grown tense from hours of sitting in the same spot. She’d completed her paperwork on the Gina Phelan case, including a geofence warrant. Hopefully, the results would come in by morning. She and Turner, with the help of many of the uniformed officers, had spent the afternoon and evening interviewing every person involved in the project still on-site. None of them had seen anything. A couple of people saw Gina leave in her car for lunch and return through the back entrance, but no one saw her drive out afterward.

Multiple times, she and Turner had studied the footage from the protestors’ cell phones as well as the footage that had been pulled from surrounding residences and businesses. The blonde and Gina Phelan had been caught on some of the phone footage but only for brief, blurred flashes. By the time the two women entered the crowd, the shouting and shoving had become a full-blown brawl. Every video they’d pulled looked as though the owner had tossed the phone violently down a flight of steps. Even pausing it didn’t help.

Officers had worked tirelessly for hours canvassing and taking statements, flashing the stills of the blonde to see ifanyone recognized her or had interacted with her in any way. A few locals from the surrounding area had seen her running down their streets shortly after she fled the scene, but they had no information to offer other than that they’d spotted her. Units continued to canvass in the direction the woman had gone but lost the trail. Josie had consulted with Chief Chitwood. Without releasing Gina Phelan’s name, she drew up a statement for the press indicating only that an incident at the site had resulted in a fatality and a woman seen fleeing the scene was wanted for questioning as a person of interest. Josie attached the two best photos they had and signed off asking anyone with information to call Denton PD.

Josie had far more questions than answers. They’d located Gina’s vehicle parked two blocks away from the site, but even that raised more questions. It wasn’t near any restaurants or takeout businesses. None of the homes had security cameras. Neither Shirley nor Mace had any idea why she had left it there. Given the witness statements Josie and Turner had taken, Gina had parked it there approximately an hour before she was stabbed.

Something bounced off Josie’s chest, jarring her out of her thoughts. A small foam basketball dropped into her lap. Arching a brow, she lifted her gaze to Turner, who sat across from her. Denton Police headquarters was located in an old building in the city’s central district. On the second floor was a large open area filled with desks which were used by uniformed officers to complete paperwork. Only five of the desks had been permanently assigned. One belonged to their press liaison, Amber Watts. The other four belonged to the investigative team: Josie, Noah, Gretchen, and Turner. They’d been pushed together to form a rectangle which meant every time Josie looked up from her computer screen, she saw Turner’s irritating face—when he decided to show up.

“Do you mind?” Josie said.

He didn’t look remotely sheepish. Instead, he held up a large palm. “Toss it back.”

One of the first things Turner had done when he was hired was put a small basketball net on his desk. It was almost as annoying as all the finger-tapping and phone-scrolling. Josie didn’t think he’d ever made a basket.

She considered making him work for it, but she wanted to do one more thing before she left for the night and didn’t have time to deal with his crap. Aiming wide, she threw it back, watching with satisfaction as it sailed over his head.

“Real mature, Quinn,” he muttered as he got up to search for it.

“Have you finished with the warrant for the contents of Gina Phelan’s phone?” she asked pointedly.

All she heard in response was indistinct muttering as Turner settled back at his desk.

Josie picked up her phone and started searching for Gina Phelan’s social media accounts. There was only one and even though it was set to public, it was fairly sparse. The most recent post was a week old. Many of the posts had to do with an animal shelter near Gina’s home where she often volunteered. There were multiple photos of her own rescue dogs, captioned to showcase each dog’s unique personality. As Josie scrolled through, she saw that Shirley Swenson was right. Gina was kind of hilarious. Now she was dead.

“Dammit.”

“What’s that, Quinn?”

She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. “Nothing.”

Scrolling onward, Josie found Gina’s other love—besides rescue dogs and the law—archery. Several photos showed her competing in statewide competitions. From what Josie could tell, she had won several. Josie hadn’t expected to learn muchabout Gina’s personal life from social media, but she would have been remiss not to check it. The contents of her phone would tell them a lot more. If Turner finished the warrant this century.

As if he sensed her thoughts, he looked up from his computer. “Stop scowling at me, Quinn. Isn’t it time for you to leave?”

She fished her keys from beneath a pile of paperwork. “It’s well past time.”

Her brain was still working feverishly, building its list of leads to follow up on in the Gina Phelan case, when she pulled into her driveway. She parked beside Noah’s car. Her gaze drifted over to it as she tried to switch from work to home mode. It was something she’d been trying to master. If—when—they had a baby, she couldn’t be so obsessive about her job when she was home. She’d need to be present for their child.

Her attention lingered on Noah’s vehicle for a beat longer than necessary. Something nagged at her consciousness. Too tired to examine it, she hopped out of her SUV and tromped up the front steps. Light glowed from almost every window. Not what she’d typically expect to find arriving home at this hour. It was possible Noah had fallen asleep without turning off some lights but there shouldn’t be so many on in the first place. Her tired brain clicked over to high alert before she could even process the thoughts. A frisson of fear ran up the back of her neck. The snap of her holster unlatching barely registered before her fingers curled around the grip of her pistol. When she reached the landing, she realized what was wrong. The eye of one of their security cameras stared down at her but her phone didn’t buzz with a notification.

In fact, her security app hadn’t chirped in hours.

Not even for Trout’s backyard bathroom breaks. A quick glance back at Noah’s car and that tiny nagging detail just beyond the grasp of her conscious mind came into focus. Whenshe left for her shift, it had been parked on the other side of the driveway. He’d left and come back, and it hadn’t set off the cameras.

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