Page 41 of Husband Missing

Turner’s fingers drummed against the table. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Josie should have been grateful for the information he’d already shared—and she was—but she wanted more. Needed more. Time was slipping away from all of them and Noah was still missing. Assuming he was still alive, these were the most critical hours in the investigation. If they were dealing with the kind of men she thought they were, would they bother keeping a cop alive?

They wouldn’t.

Panic batted against her psychological fortress, threatening to demolish it. Shit. This wasn’t productive, despite the fact that she’d momentarily dropped into work mode, attempting to analyze the situation as a detached, seasoned investigator and not Noah’s wife.

“Josie,” said Trinity.

One look at her sister and she knew Trinity was practically reading her thoughts. She was all over the place. Her emotions seemed to shift with each heartbeat and as much as she thought she was in control, that she truly could fall back on herdead insidesetting, those fractures in her mental armor still bled.She had no damn idea what was going to slip out next. It was unsettling.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to put her thoughts in order. Things were at a standstill for them in terms of their Lila investigation. At least for tonight. The state police would keep working around the clock, following every lead, doing everything they could to bring Noah home to her. The best thing that Josie could do right now was eat and rest and not freak the hell out. But her mind needed something to dig into, even just for the next couple of hours.

“I want to go to the stationhouse and review the new footage from the Phelan case,” Josie said to Turner. “And I want to go over the geofence results myself. Also, I need to have a look at whatever we’ve got on the armed robberies that happened here. Those were your cases, right? I hope you got all your reports in on time. Let’s go.”

To Trinity, he said, “Is she serious?”

Maybe it was his tone—half irritated, half mocking—that had Josie seething. Or maybe Turner was just an easy mark. She didn’t care about his feelings. Shifting in her seat, she looked directly at him.

“She knows she’s going to be taken off the case,” Turner continued. “When’s the last time she slept?”

Something split apart inside Josie. She felt it in her chest. Rage like she hadn’t felt in years surged up from where it had been snarling and snapping inside her for the last twenty-four hours, a beast begging to be unleashed. The kind of rage she used to try to numb with Wild Turkey. The kind that made her knock the teeth out of a woman’s mouth for attempting to pimp her four-year-old daughter for drugs—her own career be damned. The kind that made her do stupid, stupid things.

Her closed fist slammed down so hard on the table that all their drinks jerked. Turner’s can of energy drink tipped over, thefew drops left inside scattering. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not right here!” Josie shouted.

The college students startled, staring over at her like deer in headlights. She was out of control now, spinning. Whatever they saw in her eyes made them jump from their seats and start throwing their things into bags as fast as possible so they could leave. The barista stood behind the counter, watching warily. Josie glared at her too until she looked away, scrubbing frantically at something on the counter. Then she focused her fury on Turner. Satisfaction rippled beneath the surface of her anger when he inched away from her, eyes wide and surprised in a way she’d never seen.

She stabbed a finger into his arm. “Everyone needs to stop treating me like I’m some fragile little flower that’s going to fall apart at any moment. I’m not. Not while my husband is missing. Not while he needs me. Not ever. I’m not weak. I was raised by Lila fucking Jensen.”

It wasn’t a point of pride. Not at all. But the harsh reality was that for as much as Lila had taken from her, leaving her emotionally broken in ways she still didn’t fully comprehend, she had also inadvertently taught Josie how to survive horrible, terrifying, soul-crushing things. Her cruelty had made Josie unbreakable and for the first time in her life, Josie wasn’t ashamed of that. Why should she be? None of what Lila had done was her fault. Lila bore responsibility for her own sins. Josie had survived. Made a life. She was here and Lila wasn’t.

Trinity watched her, utterly unruffled.

Josie turned her head and traced the indelible scar that Lila had left on her. “I was six years old when she held me down and tried to cut my face off.”

That had never been public knowledge. It wasn’t part of theDateline episodes. It wasn’t information Josie gave out, evenwhen asked about her scar. Turner had never asked, but she’d seen him studying it from time to time.

His blue eyes narrowed, and Josie was happy for him that they flickered with respect and not pity because she was out of control right now. Nothing would have stopped her from punching him in the face.

“No one thinks you’re weak, Quinn,” he said, clearly measuring his words.

She liked this—Turner off-balance, almost afraid of her.

“I will find Noah even if it means leaving scorched earth in my wake every place I go. I cannot and will not sit around like some sad, meek, helpless wife waiting for my husband to be delivered to me. I’m not built that way.”

“I know,” Turner said softly.

“I don’t need sleep,” Josie said firmly. “I need to do something and the Chief hasn’t officially removed me from the case yet.”

There were a few beats of silence, the defiant thrust of her chin daring him to challenge her.

“Better grab another one of those weird-ass lattes you like,” Turner said. “You’re gonna need it while you’re double- and triple-checking my work.”

Josie pushed against his shoulder. “Let’s just go.”

Turner bristled. “Hey! I put up with that little poke earlier ’cause you were all wound up, but you’re the one who’s always bitching about me standing too close or being too familiar so stop touchingme.”

He was right. Josie knew she should apologize but the words wouldn’t come. Then Turner grinned, and she knew he was just screwing with her. “What is it that you always say to me?” He spoke in a high falsetto voice that sounded nothing like her. “I don’t know you that well.”

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