Page 58

FIFTY-SEVEN

“We’re working on something,” Gretchen said. “But I can’t talk right now.”

Josie’s fingers tightened around her cell phone. She heard the guilt in her friend’s voice but that didn’t make her feel better. Freshly showered and barefoot, she paced at the foot of the bed in Gretchen’s guest bedroom. It was one thirty in the morning and Trinity and Trout were sound asleep, giving an encore of their snoring opera. Josie had to speak louder to be heard over it. “Then don’t talk to me. Just listen. I think Mace Phelan is involved in his sister’s murder and whatever happened to Erica. I don’t know how or what his role is in all of this but he’s part of it which means, at the very least, he knows one of the guys who was there the night Noah was abducted.”

Before Gretchen could protest, Josie launched into her theory, which turned entirely on her other unproven theory that Gina had been trying to smuggle Erica out of the site without alerting Mace. It still sounded a little thin, even to her, but she was beyond caring. If she was a raving lunatic, it was because Noah’s absence had made her into one. On the way back from the park, Drake hadn’t discouraged her, but he had reminded her that there was no actual evidence to support anything they’d discussed.

By the time Josie walked into Gretchen’s house, doubt had crept in. She kept remembering Mace’s shocked expression when Turner told the Phelans how Gina had died. He had appeared genuinely surprised and distraught. That didn’t necessarily mean anything though. Over the years, she’d met plenty of murderers who were Oscar-worthy actors. Mace could have been faking his reaction, but Josie had a feeling he wasn’t.

Whatever he was part of, she didn’t think he ever meant for Gina to be harmed.

When Josie finished talking, there was silence on the other end. She thought she heard the voices of several of their colleagues in the background. She was dying to know where they were, what they were doing, but she dared not ask. Thirteen texts to Turner had gone unanswered.

“Josie, I’m just not sure?—”

“I know it’s a reach. I do.” She paused, leaning over to look at Trinity’s laptop, which she’d left open on her side of the bed. Before her shower, she’d done some research on Mace Phelan. “Did you know that Mace Phelan was sued civilly four times in the last ten years?”

There was a long pause before Gretchen said, “I’m listening.”

Over a dozen tabs were open in the browser, each one containing information Josie had turned up. She clicked through them as she talked. “Three of the lawsuits were brought by the parents of teenagers who attended parties at his residence in Lewisburg where their underage daughters were given alcohol and later had some sort of accident that resulted in injuries. Two of those cases were dismissed. The third—a girl who was found dead on Phelan’s property from alcohol poisoning—settled. The last suit was brought by a twenty-five-year-old man who got into a fight at a party at Phelan’s Harrisburg residence and sustained injuries. That one was also dismissed.”

Mace’s big sister had cleaned up a lot of messes.

There hadn’t been any criminal charges filed. Other than a couple of DUIs, his record was clean. At fifty-seven, he’d been divorced three times. He had a twenty-eight-year-old son named Ellis. However, Mace’s son had changed his last name from Phelan to his mother’s maiden name as soon as he turned eighteen. He now lived in Seattle and from what Josie gathered, he was estranged from the entire Phelan family. She couldn’t help but wonder what had caused the rift, but it wasn’t relevant so she didn’t mention it.

“I see where you’re going with this,” Gretchen said. “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire but right now there is absolutely nothing linking this guy to any of these cases.”

Josie heard what she didn’t say, too. Investigators couldn’t go after Mace Phelan without those links, without a reason. They were bound to follow the evidence available to them. She knew it. Drake had reminded her of it. In her professional experience, following tangible leads while also listening to your instincts was walking a legal tightrope. Sometimes your instincts were left screaming and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about it. They didn’t even have proof that Erica Slater had been inside the construction site, let alone that she’d been involved with Mace. If Josie was the lead on the Gina Phelan case, she’d track Gina’s murder suspect first and worry about linking Mace later.

But she wasn’t worried about the Gina Phelan case right now. She wanted her husband back. It stood to reason if Mace Phelan was connected to the man who’d stabbed his sister and that man had been part of Noah’s abduction, then Mace might know something about what happened to Noah.

There was one other thought that kept rattling around in her head, sending shivers through her body. If Mace and the men he was involved with had brought Erica to the build to make her disappear, they might have done the same to Noah already. Perhaps that was the reason they’d taken him from the house.

No. She wasn’t going there.

If there was even the slimmest possibility that he was still alive, Josie had to find him before he became part of a concrete footer on some construction site.

Josie had little doubt that Gretchen knew exactly what she was thinking. On the other end of the phone, the voices of their colleagues faded to nothing. When Gretchen spoke next, her voice was so low that Josie strained to hear her words. “We’ve got a name.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you that. Not now.”

“Did Erica Slater?—”

“Erica was released after her interview with Heather. Alec Slater checked them into a local hotel. The DA may want to speak with her tomorrow.”

They hadn’t gotten the name directly from Erica, then. Perhaps they’d found it in her phone or social media records.

“I can’t tell you anything more. I just wanted you to know. They’re holding it back from the press for now, hoping to find him quietly so neither him nor his associates get spooked. Everyone’s looking for him. There’s a statewide BOLO.”

It was news Josie had desperately wanted to hear for seventy-six hours but now that she had, she didn’t feel much better. How long would it take to find this guy? Would he crack and tell Heather what happened to Noah? Give up the location? If so, how long would that take? What if he refused to say anything? Lawyered up and kept Noah’s fate to himself? Heather would have to track down the other guys he’d been working with and try to get one of them to talk. That would take even longer with no guarantee that any of them would tell police where to find her husband.

Her phone beeped with an incoming call but she ignored it.

“Josie,” Gretchen said. “The best thing you can do for Noah right now—the only thing you can do for him—is to get some sleep and let the rest of us do our jobs.”

She nearly choked on her next words. “I know.”

They hung up. Josie sank onto the edge of the bed. Trout’s head lifted, his sleepy eyes curious and a little worried. Before she could soothe him, her phone rang again. She swiped answer.

“Miss Quinn?” Alec Slater’s voice was strained. “I need help. Erica’s gone.”