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FORTY-FOUR

Josie blinked, trying to clear the haze from her eyes. The phone screen blurred, turning her two dozen unanswered texts to Turner into a jumble of letters. It was too easy to fall asleep now that she was back at Gretchen’s, in bed with Trout and Trinity, who were both snoozing. The uncharacteristic quiet of the house didn’t help either. Josie didn’t want to fall asleep yet. She wanted answers from Turner. Why wasn’t he responding to her? At the very least, she would have expected him to accuse her of harassment again. She’d left at least five voicemails for him. He couldn’t go ten minutes without scrolling on his phone. Was he even still alive?

Angrily, she typed in a message that was going to cost her ten dollars and hit send before she could overthink it.

“You okay?” Trinity’s head lifted from her pillow. Hair stuck to one side of her face, matted with sweat. For once, she didn’t look glamorous. She was exhausted. Josie felt guilty for not telling her to leave with Drake.

“Fine, Trin,” Josie whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

He’d been waiting for them by the time they returned to Gretchen’s house. Watching Trinity run into his arms was a punch to the gut. Josie was truly happy for them, but it only drove home how much she missed Noah, how badly she needed to be in his arms.

Later, Drake went with Josie while she walked Trout. She was relieved to see no pity in his eyes, only the same fire she felt burning deep down in her own soul. Drake had been here once, too, searching for Trinity after she went missing. He couldn’t help with this investigation. The FBI had to be asked to get involved and even if they had been, Drake’s field office wouldn’t be the one responding. Still, he asked questions like they were working the case together. No emotion. Only facts. It felt purposeful and meaningful even though they were only covering ground that Josie and Trinity had already been over.

Just like with her sister, Drake’s presence and his almost detached calm were oddly comforting.

After he went to his hotel, Josie and Trinity had forced themselves to eat and socialize with everyone who still lingered, waiting for news. At midnight Trinity had insisted they go to bed. Josie had watched her plug her phone into its charger before flopping her head against the pillow and passing out fully clothed. Trout followed suit. Evidently the constant carousel of people coming in and out of Gretchen’s house all day, coupled with his anxiety over absolutely nothing being right in his world, had worn him out.

For the last half hour, Josie had been scrolling through her unanswered texts to Turner. Her body craved sleep, but she fought it, hoping he would get back to her with something. Anything. To stay awake, she opened her browser and brought up the WYEP website. Noah’s abduction was still the number one story but just beneath it was a piece about Gina Phelan’s murder.

Clearly, Denton PD had released her name to the press. Josie clicked on the link and started reading. The circumstances of her death had also been revealed. The photos of the blonde woman were included, along with poor-quality photos of her tattoo, naming her as a person of interest with another plea for the public to come forth with information about her. Josie wondered at the wisdom of making Gina Phelan’s name public considering how hated the Phelans were in the city right now.

Someone else must have had the same thought because the second half of the WYEP story was a profile about Gina Phelan that downplayed her role in the family company in favor of more personal details. She’d been volunteering at an animal shelter near her home for a decade. Her three rescue dogs, Siouxsie, Werner, and Goat would miss her but had been taken in by a dear friend.

Goat. Josie smiled, thinking of the story Shirley Swenson had told her about Gina. Then sadness overwhelmed her. More than it should. Usually, she was able to maintain a lot more mental distance from the victims in her cases. Except this wasn’t her case anymore and she’d been on the razor’s edge of losing control of her emotions since she discovered Noah was missing.

Before they could get away from her again, she kept reading.

Ms. Phelan enthusiastically funded scholarships for students at her old high school, not only for college-bound students but also for those who wanted to attend trade school. As a young girl, she took up archery under her father’s tutelage. “I didn’t even know she was interested in it to begin with,” said Clint Phelan, choking up. “She’d been practicing with one of my old traditional bows, sneaking around, trying to get good on her own ’cause that’s how she was. Didn’t use finger tabs or anything! She’s lucky she didn’t get nerve damage. First thing I did when I saw she was serious was get her a good glove. Then she moved on to a compound bow. She mastered it, just like she did everything.”

Gina regularly participated in the Pennsylvania State Archery Association’s competitions, winning a state championship three times. Fishing was another one of her interests. She’d also been planning a trip to Norway next spring to see the northern lights which had been on her bucket list.

Noah would love the northern lights. Maybe Josie could plan a trip for them. Somewhere less expensive than Norway, if possible. They could go after he came home.

When would that be? He’d been missing approximately fifty-four hours. More than two days.

She abandoned her phone for a moment and took his shirt out from under the pillow again. She huffed it, wondering how long it took for a person’s scent to fade from their clothes. Should she keep it in some hermetically sealed bag to make sure it lasted? But then how would she smell it? Would it lose more scent every time she opened and closed it? She’d need to ration it, surely.

No. Not going there. She would find him. Alive.

With a sigh, she picked up her phone again. Along the top of her screen were tiny icons that told her she still had three unheard voicemail messages from the caller she’d been avoiding. She looked over at her sister. Trinity’s breathing was smooth and even. Her eyelids fluttered. Josie hadn’t answered the calls not just because she didn’t want to know what waited on the other end but also because she didn’t want to have hers and Noah’s dream shattered in front of other people, even Trinity.

This was as alone as she was going to get in the present circumstances. After a long, shuddery exhale, Josie brought up the voicemails. She made sure her volume was low so the message wouldn’t wake Trinity or Trout. Then she pressed the phone hard against her ear, listening as the case manager from their adoption agency destroyed what little was left of Josie’s world at the moment.