Page 69 of Husband Missing

“Shan,” Christian said. “You can’t lose your cool like that.”

Josie’s mother shoved at Christian’s chest, her normally sweet face contorted with rage. “I will defend my daughter in any way I see fit!”

“Mom,” Patrick said weakly.

When Shannon turned on him, he jumped back, as if worried she might push him too.

“Josie won’t engage with Laura out of respect for Noah,” Shannon said. “Because she’s a better person than that bitch, but I don’t have to stand by and listen to her insult my child. I won’t!”

Stunned by the ferocity of Shannon’s response to the situation, Josie felt new emotions flood into the place the Big Cry had left vacant. These ones weren’t so bad. Warmth. Gratitude. It reminded her of the way her grandmother, Lisette, had been—ruthless in her pursuit to protect Josie from any threats.

There had only ever been one threat. Lila.

Before her parents or brother noticed her, Josie jogged down the steps and toward the street, sliding into the driver’s seat of her SUV to wait for Trinity.

Twenty minutes later, they were on the road, headed to Williamsport to find Alec Slater.

Once they arrived, it took an hour to track him down. The address Trinity had found was an old one that led them to a beautiful four-bedroom house in the northern, wooded part of the city where he’d lived with his wife and daughter before he was charged with embezzlement. A neighbor delighted in telling them all about Slater’s fall from grace. How his wife had left him and moved on with a college professor. How Slater had somehow gotten nothing from the sale of their massive, fancy home—“wife took him to the cleaners, as she should”—and how he’d had to move into a small apartment in a part of town where all the criminals lived. That area was actually not a criminal hotbed at all, nor was it a place that disgraced ex-cons went to die alone, but Josie saw the point the neighbor had been trying to make.

The embezzlement scheme had resulted in a serious downgrade in Alec Slater’s quality of life.

Luckily, Slater’s landlord directed them to his current place of employment. Another serious downgrade.

A small, dilapidated building housed the eatery called Burgers. A creative name if Josie ever heard one.

It sat alone on a weed-strewn, cracked asphalt lot on the outskirts of Williamsport, miles from other establishments. A flat roof extended from the rectangular building, sagging over what looked like the remains of an old gas pump. Various paint colors vied for dominance on both the structure and the overhang. Only the neon Burgers sign seemed fairly new, and by new, Josie was thinking the late seventies.

“Are you sure this place is a real place?” Trinity asked as Josie parked along the edge of the lot.

There were three other vehicles, one parked right near the front door. “Looks like people are here.”

Josie needed to talk to Alec Slater. She needed him to give her something she could use. The clues to Lila’s past were dwindling rapidly—he was potentially the only one left—and she’d been shut out of every other investigation that might lead to Noah.

It still felt like she was racing against a clock.

Sixty-three hours.

It was less than three days, but it felt like an eternity.

“Let’s do this then.” Trinity’s voice jarred Josie back to their present location. Her sister stepped out of the SUV, arching her back and stretching her arms overhead. Her nose wrinkled. “Are you sure the other people here aren’t dead? This looks like a place unsuspecting motorists go to get murdered.”

The smell of overused fry oil and burger grease hung so heavy in the air, Josie was afraid her clothes would be coated with it in a matter of minutes. Trudging toward the building, she muttered, “We’re not getting murdered today. No time for that.”

A bell jingled overhead when they entered the restaurant—or whatever Burgers was considered. The odor of grease and oil was even more overpowering inside. A few booths lined onewall, their vinyl seats cracked and mended with duct tape that peeled at the edges. A cleaner, newer-looking set of stools lined a countertop across from the booths. Behind that stood a dark-haired woman who could have been twenty-five or forty-five. She was dressed in all black, scrolling on her phone. As they approached, she nodded to the menu hanging on the wall behind her. This was perhaps the most modern accoutrement in the entire place, its glowing, clean white background peppered with an assortment of offerings. A dozen types of burgers, French fries, and for some reason Josie couldn’t wrap her mind around, lobster roll.

“Can I get you?” the woman asked, the first part of her question lost to distraction or maybe the chewing tobacco tucked inside her lower left cheek.

“We’re looking for Alec Slater,” said Trinity.

“Round back. Tell him his break’s almost over.”

“Sure,” said Josie. “We’ll let him know the lunch rush is in full swing.”

No reaction.

Trinity added, “After we rob him at gunpoint and steal his car.”

Nothing.

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