Page 3 of The Couple’s Secret (Detective Josie Quinn #23)

Two

In their bedroom, Josie dropped the lip gloss on top of her dresser and checked Noah’s closet for one of his clean work shirts.

No luck. With a sigh, she fished one from the rest of the dirty laundry.

She pressed her face into it, reveling in his scent.

It had always brought her comfort but more so since he’d been returned to her.

Every time she caught the scent of his aftershave or touched him or woke before he did to find him sleeping peacefully beside her, butterflies took flight in her stomach.

It was impossible to forget how close she’d come to losing him.

At least a dozen times a week, she was assaulted by terrifying memories of the days he’d been missing followed by waves of gratitude that he had survived.

Her body could barely contain the emotions, even all these months later.

Pausing, she took a couple of deep breaths and examined the shirt more closely. It was wrinkled but stain-free. It would be huge on her but she didn’t have any other options. Luckily, she had one pair of work pants that had escaped the Cosmic Primrose massacre. She changed quickly.

More laughter floated up from the kitchen. Harris loudly declared something, but Josie couldn’t make out the words.

She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her boots on.

Her cell phone chirped from its place next to her on the bed.

It was a message reminding her that the final payment was due for the venue she and Noah had chosen for their vow renewal ceremony in three weeks.

It was an old barn that a nearby farm had converted into a beautiful, rustic event space.

They’d only been married for five years but their wedding had been hijacked by a homicide investigation.

When the ceremony didn’t happen, their guests had danced the night away in the reception hall while the two of them worked against the clock to prevent more carnage.

Unfortunately, they’d been too late to keep Josie’s grandmother out of the crossfire.

Lisette had been shot. After undergoing extensive surgery, she continued to bleed internally.

Knowing that she had days, possibly only hours left, Lisette had insisted that Josie and Noah get married at her bedside.

She’d known that if Josie didn’t get married before her death, she wouldn’t ever do it.

It had been a somber occasion. The best and worst day of her life.

Just before his abduction, Noah had suggested renewing their vows for their fifth anniversary.

It was a way to give themselves the wedding they’d had to skip.

Josie had been elated and once Noah was safely home and recovered from his injuries, she’d thrown herself into planning it.

Now, with Wren in their care, it seemed so unimportant.

She stared at the message for a long moment.

They had already postponed it once so they could prioritize Wren, moving the ceremony from late April to late June.

Maybe they should call it off altogether.

They could get their deposit back if they canceled within the next week.

Josie had already missed the last two fittings for the dress that her mother and sister had helped her pick out a few weeks before Wren came into their lives.

They’d lose a bit of money at this stage, but nothing compared to what their original wedding had cost them.

Their home life felt so precarious, so fragile.

Perhaps she and Noah should continue to focus solely on their new family unit instead of renewing their vows.

She’d have to talk to him about it.

As she set her phone down, she saw that her nightstand drawer was open.

No more than an inch but noticeable. Had she failed to close it properly the last time she was digging around in there?

Or had someone been searching the contents?

She had her answer when she took a good look inside.

The mess of random items she kept there—a flashlight, a pen and notepad, a small bottle of lotion, a bottle of ibuprofen, and some cough drops—had all been rearranged.

Josie knew this because normally, they hid the anniversary card Noah had given her last year.

It was suggestive to say the least, but the sweet and very private handwritten note he’d scrawled inside had made it impossible to part with, which was why it lived hidden in the recesses of her nightstand drawer.

Beneath that was where she’d been keeping the letter that Wren’s father left for her. Now, she saw the corner of it peeking out from under Noah’s card. Josie had read it dozens of times. Apparently, Wren had found it and read it as well.

With a sigh, Josie pulled it free. For the second time in the last half hour, she asked herself was this a hill she wanted to die on?

Wren had invaded her privacy. Last week, Josie had sat in this exact spot and read the letter twice before wiping her tears and putting it back in its hiding spot.

When she’d turned toward the open doorway, Wren had scurried away.

Josie had followed her to the living room, asked if everything was okay, if she needed anything, and received a quick “yes” and “no” before Wren bent her head to the sketchpad she carried everywhere and ignored Josie for the rest of the day.

Then, instead of asking to read the letter, she went behind Josie’s back and rummaged through her things.

All Josie had to do was go downstairs, take her aside and tell her: “Remember to check the pockets of your clothes before you wash them,” and, “Don’t go through my personal things. If there’s something you want to know about, just ask.”

Grief doesn’t cancel out accountability. That’s what the therapist had said. In other words, Josie needed to parent.

But could she really blame Wren for wanting access to this small piece of her father? Of course not. Josie would gladly have handed it over, if only she’d asked.

“Shit.”

Josie unfolded the letter. Its creases were well-worn.

Her fingers grazed Dex’s neat, blocky handwriting.

The letter was addressed to her, but she had always intended to pass it on to Wren at some point.

It belonged to her as much as it belonged to Josie.

It contained her father’s words, his handwriting, his intentions, his reasoning, and shining through it all, his lovely soul.

More excited shrieks came from the kitchen.

Trout barked in that way he did when all the humans were excited, and he felt like he needed to be part of it even though he didn’t know what was happening.

Either that, or no one had given him a treat in a really long time, meaning ten to fifteen minutes.

Dear JoJo,

I wish I didn’t have to write this. Like I told you, I was only with Wren’s mother once.

She never told me I had a daughter. I found out after she died.

My beautiful Wren was already nine years old by the time I met her.

Imagine that. A little girl who just lost her mom learning that a beast like me is her dad.

A tear rolled down Josie’s cheek, off her chin, and landed on the page.

Quickly, she blotted it with her shirttail.

She hated crying. There wasn’t much that could slice through her mental defenses and inspire tears and even when there was, she rarely let them fall.

For Dex though, she let them flow. He’d earned it.

He had only looked like a beast. In reality, he was one of the best men Josie had ever known.

When she was three weeks old, she’d been abducted by a woman named Lila Jensen, who passed Josie off as her own in a ploy to get back together with her ex-boyfriend, Eli Matson.

By the time Josie was six, Eli was dead and Lila—who had always been careless and neglectful—was free to inflict all manner of abuse on Josie.

It had been hell. She had the scars to prove it, on the outside and the inside.

Then, when Josie was thirteen, Lila bewitched Dexter McMann and he moved in with them.

Dex had parented Josie more in one year than Lila had her entire life.

He had been kind and compassionate, making sure she never went hungry, caring for her when she was sick, taking her to get stitches when she cut herself, helping her with school projects, buying her books she was interested in, and even making sure she was able to go to the freshman dance with Ray.

The problem with being kind to Josie was that it made Lila homicidal.

What did he get for his efforts? Lila set his pillow on fire while he slept, causing catastrophic burns to his face and scalp.

Disfiguring him for life. Josie could still smell his flesh and hair burning as she threw a blanket over his head, trying to douse the flames.

She could still see the smug smile on Lila’s evil face as she guided Dex out of the burning trailer.

Josie had spent her life feeling guilty—and responsible—for what happened to him.

She’d only seen him twice since that horrible day and both times he’d tried to convince her that she’d done nothing wrong.

The last time she saw him, three months before he died, he’d finally gotten through.

It wasn’t so much his words that helped her finally let go of the guilt.

It was seeing him so genuinely happy, and that happiness had everything to do with his daughter.

Josie wiped another tear away and kept reading even though she had the words memorized by now.

The worst part of all of this is that Wren and I didn’t get enough time together.

This poor kid is really getting the short end of the stick.

Losing everything she ever knew with her mom and now with me.

She’s at a difficult age, too. Vulnerable and sassy and fragile and mouthy all at the same time.

But JoJo, she’s spectacular. The brightest star in the whole sky.

She’s way smarter than me, stubborn as hell, a million times more talented than me, and under all her attitude, she’s got a soul that’s pure and true and worthy of so much more than what this shitty life has dealt her. She reminds me a lot of you.

“Oh Dex,” she choked. Never once had she gotten through the letter without breaking at those words. This was a very sadistic form of self-torture, but she couldn’t stop herself.

You think you trust the people in your life.

Then you become a parent, and you realize that there’s a hell of a long way between leaving your kid with someone for a few hours and entrusting them with your kid’s emotional well-being—with their soul.

That’s what this comes down to, JoJo. My daughter’s beautiful, tender heart and her wonderful soul.

It’s going to be shredded. Destroyed. When I thought about the best person to pick up the pieces, there was only you.

Josie wiped some snot from her nose with the back of her hand.

Good God. How had Wren felt reading this?

Reading all the incredible things her father said about her?

Being reminded just how fiercely he’d loved her?

Had it been a comfort? Had it felt like a small gift among days of endless mourning?

Or had it made her miss him worse than she already did?

Had it made her furious at the unfairness of life?

Grief was different for everyone. Something that might buoy one person could crush another.

Although Wren spent a lot of time in her room, Josie hadn’t seen her upset recently. Noah hadn’t said anything either.

According to the clock on Josie’s nightstand, she had fifteen minutes to get to work. Quickly, she read the rest of the letter.

You’ve been through a lot and come out stronger for it.

You also know what it’s like to lose people you love.

Wren’s going to need someone who’s been there to get her through all this.

There’s no one better suited than you. I know you’ll put Wren first because that’s the kind of person you are.

You have a good heart, a big heart, and I know it’s big enough for my little girl (even if she’s not so little anymore).

If you’re reading this, then it means I went faster than expected and didn’t have a chance to ask you to take Wren or a chance to introduce the two of you—to get you both used to the idea.

To meet and talk with your husband and ask him to be part of this, too.

For that, I’m sorry. What I’m not sorry about is having been in your life.

That was my honor. I should have told you this a long time ago, but I love you, kiddo.

Tell Wren not to be too sad. I’ll always be right here, even if it’s just in spirit.

Dex

Josie wiped away more tears. Cheers erupted from downstairs.

Trout barked again. Were they still having a tic-tac-toe tournament or had they moved on to something else?

Whenever Harris came over, Wren indulged his every request. Tic-tac-toe, Mario Kart, tag, hide-and-seek.

She even played catch with him out front.

If he wanted to watch a show or a movie, she made popcorn and curled up on the couch with him.

Sometimes he brought books and asked her to read with him.

Erica was just as game. When all three of them were there, it tended to get loud.

Regardless of what they were doing, they’d be having fun the better part of the afternoon and evening.

Misty would oversee their activities until Noah got home.

Josie tucked the letter back into the bottom of the drawer and then retrieved her service weapon from its lockbox on the top shelf of their closet.

Downstairs, everyone had moved into the living room.

Wren, Harris, and Erica were so intensely focused on the video game they were playing that none of them heard or acknowledged Josie’s goodbye.

Trout, at least, gave her a head tilt. From the couch, Misty smiled and mouthed, I got this.

That was probably for the best because Josie certainly didn’t.