Page 52

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 her father 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 the Dateline episodes. It was always those damn Datelines Trinity had insisted they do. Before Gretchen had urged Erica away, Josie noticed the fading bruises on her throat, only visible up 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?”

“He’s downstairs. Don’t worry, he’s not going anywhere.” Gretchen set a can of Cherry Coke and a bag of Doritos on the table, sliding them over toward Erica. “He went to the store down the street and got these for you.”

Erica stared at the offering wistfully before wiping a tear from her cheek. She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “You can send him home. Everything’s fine. He doesn’t need to be here. If he misses work?—”

“That’s not really our call. If your dad wants to wait, we can’t stop him.”

Erica’s shoulders slumped.

Gretchen sat in the chair closest to her, introduced herself, and read Erica her Miranda rights. The girl mumbled a yes when asked if she understood them. Again, she drew her legs beneath her sweatshirt.

“I don’t think everything is fine,” Gretchen began softly. “A lot of people have been looking for you. The last you were seen, you were covered in blood. Your dad says you told him you weren’t injured. Is that true?”

Erica didn’t answer.

“You can tell me,” Gretchen said. “I won’t report back to him if that’s something you’d like to keep private. I do, however, need to get you medical attention if you’re injured. We can arrange that without telling your dad all the details.”

Erica rested her chin on her knees. Her voice was so small that it hit Josie right in the gut. “I don’t want him to worry. That’s all he does is worry about me.”

Gretchen smiled. “That’s kind of what parents are for, and I can tell you that even if your life was perfect and nothing went wrong, he’d still worry ’cause he’s your dad and he loves you.”

Erica used the sleeve of her sweatshirt to wipe away a few more tears. “I’m not hurt.”

It was a lie. Maybe she hadn’t been stabbed but someone had hurt her. Given the coloring of her bruises, Josie guessed it happened before the stabbing.

Gretchen knew it too but chose not to push, turning instead to the reason they were there. “Tell me about Monday.”

“Monday?”

Repeating the question. Buying time. Josie wondered if she was going to claim it wasn’t her in the videos of the protests and stabbing.

“The day you were outside of the construction site for the new children’s hospital here in Denton,” Gretchen clarified, taking a notepad and pen from the back pocket of her khakis.

Erica kept her eyes downcast. “I, um, was walking down the street and this guy came up behind me. He grabbed me by my shoulder and turned me around. There was a knife in his hand. He said something but I was so freaked out, I didn’t hear it. I thought he was going to stab me but then this lady came out of nowhere. She was yelling at him, right in his face. The next thing I know, he’s stabbing her. She told me to run so I did.”

“Who was the guy?” asked Gretchen.

Erica’s eyes snapped to Gretchen’s face, her mouth forming an O for a second before she found her composure. “I don’t know.”

“You never saw him before he came after you on the street?”

“No.”

She was lying. Josie felt a simultaneous surge of excitement and anger. If Erica knew the attacker, it unlocked the entire case—three different cases, in fact—and brought them closer to finding Noah. But if she continued to lie about knowing him, she was effectively standing between Josie and her husband. The thought that the best lead they’d had in almost three days was right there, so close, and still out of reach caused hot rage to pour through the cracks in her emotional armor. This was one of the reasons Josie wasn’t allowed in that room. Her fists clenched with the need to stalk in there and shake Erica until she told them what they needed to know.

Noah had been missing for sixty-nine hours.