Page 75 of Husband Missing

Trinity stayed silent, watching their exchange like it was a tennis match.

While Josie explained what had happened in Denton only hours before Noah was abducted, Alec stumbled back to the picnic table and plopped onto the bench. Sweat beaded along his forehead as Josie used her phone to show him the still photos of the mystery blonde. She could tell by the way he fumbled to light his next cigarette that he recognized his daughter.

Smoke shot out of his nostrils. “What happens now?”

“I have to call my colleagues. They’ll go get her, bring her to the police station and interview her,” said Josie. “Now.”

“I’ll call her,” Alec said.

“No,” Josie said. “She might run again. It’s better if one of my colleagues just shows up.”

“I want to be there. She might not talk to you otherwise.”

FIFTY-ONE

Another headache pulsed behind Josie’s eyes. The dim light in the small CCTV room had initially helped, causing some of the pain to recede. Now it roared back, a persistent throb. She blinked, trying to focus on the screen that showed Erica Slater sitting alone in the interrogation room down the hall. The girl drew her thin legs up to her chest, pulling the front of her blue sweatshirt over them, cocooning herself. It wasn’t the same sweatshirt she was wearing when she fled the scene of Gina Phelan’s stabbing. Like the oversized jeans hanging from her small frame, it was clean but worn. Somewhere along the way, she’d also picked up a pair of sneakers. Her blonde hair was clean and loose around her shoulders. Brown eyes scanned the room warily, pausing on the camera. She reminded Josie of a skittish animal. A bird that might let you get close to it but would fly away in a heartbeat.

When Alec and Gretchen confronted her at the Patio Motel, she had tried to get away.

Turner had been off shift when Josie called on the way back from Williamsport with Alec Slater in tow. Gretchen had met them at the motel, alone. Josie knew it was a conscious choice. Too big a police presence might spook Erica, even with herfather there. Then Gretchen had reminded Josie in no uncertain terms that she needed to be as far from this new development in the Phelan case as humanly possible.

To Josie, that was across the road from the parking lot. She and Trinity had watched as Alec knocked on the door to room three.

The moment Erica opened the door, Josie’s senses had sharpened. Erica Slater was a runner. Josie knew one when she saw one. There was something about them. A wariness that charged the energy around their bodies. The subtle flickering glances at their surroundings like clockwork. Always searching for the quickest exit even when it wasn’t necessary. Erica probably would have run even if she wasn’t in some kind of trouble.

It had taken a few minutes for Alec to coax her outside. When she was halfway between him and Gretchen, she had taken off, sprinting down the road in a blur of movement. Alec had given chase but didn’t make it very far before doubling over, out of breath. Gretchen had raced ahead with impressive speed. The strict diet and exercise regimen Paula had forced her to maintain was clearly paying off. Still, Josie couldn’t risk Erica getting away. She’d driven to the bottom of the hill, turning the SUV to block the girl’s path. The urge to get out of her vehicle and end the pursuit had been so strong, it made her hands twitch.

She hadn’t missed the look of annoyance on Gretchen’s face when she trapped Erica against the driver’s side door. Josie knew she shouldn’t look but she couldn’t help it. Erica’s face had been only inches from hers, separated by the glass of the window. Their eyes locked, and Erica’s blind panic had transformed into something else. Recognition. Probably from theDatelineepisodes. It was always those damnDatelinesTrinity had insisted they do. Before Gretchen had urged Erica away, Josie noticed the fading bruises on her throat, only visibleup close, and around her wrists when she brought her hands up, causing her sleeves to slide down.

Now, Josie watched the CCTV monitor as Erica’s hands snaked out of those same sleeves. Her fingernails were painted a light purple which Josie had also noticed in their brief, wordless encounter. Erica glanced at the camera again and then used the nail of her thumb to chip away at the nail polish.

Josie pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, willing the ache to go away. Caffeine would probably help. Drake had come to the station to pick up Trinity and they’d offered to make a Komorrah’s run for her but she’d said no. She wasn’t even supposed to be here. Trinity had done so much for her already, for Noah. Josie could get her own latte. Besides, the way Drake’s hand rested possessively on her sister’s hip made Josie feel guilty for keeping them apart even when Drake was in the same zip code. They wouldn’t see it that way. Josie knew that but still, she wanted them to have a few hours alone.

She would have wanted that with Noah if the roles were reversed.

Sixty-eight hours and thirteen minutes.

The throbbing in Josie’s head intensified. She thought about going to her desk and getting some of the ibuprofen she kept there but before she could, the door swung open.

“Quinn? You’ve got to be kidding me,” Turner said, quickly closing the door behind him.

Just what her headache needed. Josie dropped her hands in time to see him stomping toward her, making the already small space seem impossibly close.

“You can’t be here,” he told her.

Josie didn’t respond.

Turner tugged at his beard. “I’m serious, Quinn. Gretchen’s going to talk to this kid, but the state police are on their way. If Loughlin or the Chief catch you in here?—”

“I’m not going to talk to her,” Josie said. “She’ll never see me.”

She didn’t mention that Erica had already seen her.

If there was anything she could tell them about the man who killed Gina Phelan that might lead them to Noah, Josie needed to hear it for herself.

Turner pulled at his beard again. He got closer, standing beside her. Something bumped her shoulder. A can of his disgusting energy drink poking out from the pocket of his suit jacket. She waited for him to continue his little tirade, but he fell silent. The only sound in the room was his fingertips drumming against the table.

On the screen, Erica’s legs slid out from under her sweatshirt as Gretchen entered the room. Straightening her spine, she said, “Where’s my dad?”

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