Page 81 of Husband Missing

“Douchebag!” Josie hissed.

He spun, towering over her in the cramped room. His glare froze her in place. For the first time since she’d known him, he looked well and truly pissed. His body was completely still, which was bizarre. A non-fidgeting Turner unsettled her.

“With all due respect, sweetheart, shut the hell up. I’m trying to get you out of here before you make a career-ending mistake. It’s bad enough that you’re the one who tipped us off to this girl. The brass already knows about your little side investigation. Even though you haven’t been stripped of your police powers or anything, they’re not happy. You are on razor-thin ice right now. If the Chief or Loughlin sees you up here or even in this building, all hell is gonna break loose.”

“But—”

“It’s not my first day, Quinn,” Turner said. “We’ll ping the phone. Get the records. Scour this kid’s social media. Talk to everyone she knows. We’ll go after this hard—just as hard as you would—and so will Heather’s team, but right now, I need you out of here.”

Erica’s voice floated from the monitor behind them. “I wasn’t innocent at all. When I couldn’t hide or get away, I hurt them. As small as I was, there weren’t many options, but I learned. Soft targets. The eyes and the balls. Sometimes bending back a finger worked. ’Cause they weren’t the kind of guys who responded to tears or begging and as my mom always said, ‘You can’t always be all roses and sweetness, that don’t get shit done.’”

Josie’s world stopped. Everything went still and silent.

She started to turn back toward the screen, wondering if she’d imagined the words but the movement took forever and then Turner’s hand closed around hers. He dragged her into the hallway, keeping her behind him. Josie’s senses were blunted. She felt like she was underwater. Some muted part of her brain registered the stairwell door swishing open. The Chief’s voice floated down the hall, his words unintelligible.

She stumbled as Turner shoved her into the nearest room and slammed the door. Lucky for her it was the file room and not a closet. As Josie leaned against a cabinet, waiting for Turner tosneak her out of the building, she tried to make sense of Erica’s words.

No. Not Erica’s words.

Lila’swords coming out of Erica’s mouth.

FIFTY-FOUR

Josie staggered into the municipal parking lot behind the stationhouse. Behind her, Turner said something before pulling the door closed. It was dark. The air was cool and crisp. She tried to get her bearings. Get her legs under her again. Think. A few uniformed officers passed her as they entered the building. Each of them stopped to greet her and offer words of support that she barely registered. She needed to go back inside. She needed to talk to Erica Slater.

Except she would never be granted access to the girl. Even if she managed to get her alone, speaking to her could be a colossal mistake. What Erica knew could be the key not only to finding Noah but to putting his abductors away for a very long time. Any conversation Josie had with her, even one about Lila, could taint that case. No one ever thought about the part that came after a big investigation, after a crime was solved, after arrests were made. That was left to prosecutors and usually carried out with little fanfare, but it was critical. Knowing that perpetrators would be sent to prison was the only thing loved ones had to cling to after their worlds had been shattered.

As desperate as Josie was to find her husband, a realistic part of her, the seasoned professional buried beneath layers of rageand panic, knew that she might not get Noah back alive. If she didn’t, the only thing worth living for would be seeing his killers go to prison. She couldn’t jeopardize that despite the fact that with every fiber of her being, she yearned to throw every rule and regulation she’d ever known into the trash.

She looked around, as if coming out of a trance. Her vehicle wasn’t in the parking lot. On shaky legs, she walked toward the front of the stationhouse. Where had she parked it? There were too many thoughts whirling in her brain.

You can’t always be all roses and sweetness, that don’t get shit done.

It was just an expression. Maybe Lila had heard it from someone else. Maybe lots of other people used it and it was just a coincidence that Erica knew it.

Except Josie knew in her gut that wasn’t true.

She kept walking, giving a half-hearted wave to a cruiser that passed. Erica had unleashed a tornado inside her head. Snippets of her life with Lila, conversations she’d had over the last seventy hours, and the interview she’d just watched. They batted around in her mind, too fast for her to capture.

It didn’t matter anyway. It wouldn’t help locate Noah.

That didn’t stop her from approaching Alec Slater when she saw him standing beside the front steps of the stationhouse, smoking a cigarette. He wasn’t a witness. He had no direct knowledge of anything surrounding Noah’s case.

“Hey,” he said. “What’s going on in there? Is Erica almost done? She’s not in trouble, is she?”

Josie tried to organize her thoughts.

Alec’s brow furrowed. “You okay?”

The man was disheveled, his stained white T-shirt rumpled and his curly hair in disarray. Large bags hung from under his eyes. The faint smell of grease mixed with the smoke flowing out of his nostrils. Earlier, he’d appeared exhausted and defeated.Now, all Josie could see was a parent’s fear in the rigid way he held himself and how his fingers trembled when he flicked his butt to the ground. Josie didn’t bother pointing out the standing ashtray nearby.

“Hey,” he said. “You, uh, need me to call someone?”

“No,” Josie finally managed.

“Is Erica in trouble?”

“Do you have any photos of Erica’s mother? Not your wife. Her biological mother.”

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