Page 30 of The Couple’s Secret (Detective Josie Quinn #23)

Twenty-Six

An hour later, Josie and Gretchen walked into an interview room at the Brighton Springs Police headquarters, trailed by Detective Meredith Dorton.

Like the rest of the building, it was modern and new.

The taupe-colored walls were pristine. The thin carpet showed no signs of wear.

Even the metal table was sleek and free from stains, scars, and scratches.

The smell of greasy food, body odor, and cigarette smoke wasn’t yet present.

Gretchen stopped inside the door and looked around. “Swanky.”

Josie sipped her much-needed fourth coffee of the day. “Now this is taxpayer money going to good use.”

Meredith hid a smile behind her own cup.

“Hey.” Dalton Stevens glared at them from the other side of the table. “Can I leave or what?”

“You’ll have to ask Brighton Springs PD about that.” Gretchen turned to Meredith. “Detective Dorton, can he leave or what?”

Meredith took a seat across the table from Dalton. Since Josie and Gretchen were in Brighton Springs’ jurisdiction and in their stationhouse, one of their own was required to sit in on their interview.

“Or what,” Meredith muttered.

“There you have it,” said Gretchen.

Dalton rolled his eyes. “Can’t ever get a straight answer out of you bitches.”

Josie sauntered toward him, took a moment to study him, and then glanced at her colleagues. “Hey, bitches, this guy wants a straight answer.”

Meredith sighed. “Mr. Stevens, you were booked for simple assault. You’ll be arraigned by a duty judge later today so no, you can’t leave yet.”

Since he hadn’t yet been arraigned, he was still wearing the clothes he’d had on at the funeral. Minus his jacket and tie. He had rolled up the sleeves of his white button-down shirt, revealing thick, hairy forearms covered in tattoos.

Glowering at Meredith, he said, “I didn’t mean to punch that prick.”

Gretchen still stood in the middle of the room, scanning it leisurely before slowly producing her credentials and flashing them at him.

“We’re not here to talk about Hollis Merritt or the funeral.

We’re from Denton PD. That’s where Tobias and Cora’s bodies were found.

” She tipped her head in Josie’s direction.

“My partner here has been trying to get hold of you. You hung up on her three times. Pretty rude, if you ask me.”

Josie sat down in the chair closest to him, catching a whiff of cologne, sweat, and vape juice. She set her paper coffee cup out of his reach and presented her credentials. “Totally rude.”

Dalton sat back in his chair, manspreading his thick legs and folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t got to talk to no police.”

“Nobody has to talk to the police,” Gretchen said. “But they do. How about we read you your rights first? Then we’ll tell you why we came all the way from Denton to talk to little old you.”

He scowled.

Josie read off his Miranda rights. When she asked if he understood them, he said, “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”

“That remains to be seen,” Gretchen said, leaning against the wall next to the door, tucking one foot up against it.

“Fuck you,” Dalton snarled. “I don’t have to talk to you bitches.”

“No,” Josie took another slug of coffee.

“You don’t, but Mr. Stevens, I think you’ve got something you want to say.

Information you want to share, and it might do you good because this is no longer a missing persons case.

It’s a double homicide and guess what? Your name has come up a lot.

Every person we’ve interviewed so far thinks you killed Cora and Tobias. ”

Up close, Josie could see the deep lines scored across his forehead and the many crows’ feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes. The skin at his jawline sagged. Beneath his stubble, a deep flush colored his face. “That’s bullshit.”

“So you say. We’d love to hear your reasoning. Like I said, it might be in your best interest. Hey, Detective Palmer.”

“Yes, Detective Quinn.”

“What’s the minimum sentence for first-degree murder in Pennsylvania?”

“First-degree?” Gretchen echoed.

“Yeah. That’s the one where you intend to kill someone and then you do.”

“Right, right. Hang on. I know this one.” Gretchen tilted her head toward the ceiling, squinting as if that helped her recall facts.

The room went so quiet, only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard.

When Gretchen snapped her fingers, Dalton startled.

Grinning, she said, “I got it. Death, or life without the possibility of parole.”

Josie held up her index and middle fingers. “Times two.”

Dalton lowered his arms, fisting his hands in his lap. He looked over at Meredith as if seeking help. She shifted in her chair, a bored expression on her face, and checked her nails.

“I didn’t do nothing,” he said, turning to Josie.

“Sure, sure,” she replied. “But you can see why you’re the first person who comes to mind when we ask people who they think killed Tobias and Cora, right?”

“What?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Detective Palmer.”

“Yes, Detective Quinn?”

“When the medical examiner performed the autopsy on Cora’s remains, how many healed fractures did she find?”

“Hmmm.” Gretchen pursed her lips and started counting her fingers. One hand. Then the other. Back to the other hand. Finally, she blew out a breath and said, “It was over fifteen. That much I remember.”

Josie arched a brow at Dalton. “Over fifteen healed fractures. Detective Dorton?”

“Yes, Detective Quinn?”

“How many reports of physical altercations, assaults resulting in injury, stalking, and harassment did Cora Stevens make with respect to her ex-husband?”

Meredith tapped her chin with an index finger. “Each or combined?”

Josie shrugged. “Let’s go with combined.”

The shade of Dalton’s face was so red it was nearly burgundy. If he was a crayon, he’d be Apoplectic Red.

“You forgot PFA violations,” Meredith informed her.

“Better add them in then,” Josie said without taking her eyes from Dalton.

Meredith, too, pretended to count with her fingers.

Dalton lurched forward in his chair, slamming his palms on the table.

There was no reaction from Josie or her colleagues.

Like a beast baring its teeth, his head swung from side to side, as if seeking to rattle them.

Gretchen took out her phone and answered a text message.

Meredith kept counting, mumbling numbers under her breath.

“Just a minute, Mr. Stevens,” Josie said. “Detective Dorton’s almost there.”

He let out a low growl but as the moments stretched on, the anger emanating from his body dissipated. “I didn’t kill no one.”

“How about Tobias?” Josie asked. “Did you kill him?”

“No! I told you?—”

“Did you kill Cora?”

“I didn’t kill no one!” Another slap against the surface of the table.

Meredith sighed loudly. “It’s over thirty.”

“Wow,” said Gretchen. “That’s a lot of wife-beating and stalking.”

Dalton made a noise of exasperation in his throat. “So I knocked Cora around sometimes. She had it coming.”

“Detective Palmer,” Josie said.

Gretchen looked up from her phone. “Yes, Detective Quinn?”

“Remember that case we had a few years back? The one where the guy killed his ex-girlfriend?”

“You mean the guy who’s serving life without parole right now?”

“That’s the one. What did he say when we asked him why he killed his ex-girlfriend?”

“He said, ‘She had it coming.’ I remember because that seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation for killing the mother of his child.”

Josie hummed in agreement. “Pity the jury didn’t agree.”

Dalton gripped the edge of the table. The muscles of his forearms flexed, and Josie got her first real look at some of his tattoos.

On his right forearm was the face of a leopard, inked in black and snarling.

Red blood dripped from its teeth. “I told you I didn’t kill no one,” he said through gritted teeth. “What. Do. You. Want?”

Josie made him wait, sipping at her coffee like she had all day, watching him gnash his teeth. “When was the last time you saw Cora alive?”

With his left hand, he reached up and squeezed the bridge of his nose. His outer forearm was swathed in an elaborate tattoo that depicted an angel battling a demon. “Hell, I don’t know. It’s been seven years. We were divorced.”

From the other side of the room, Gretchen said, “That’s weird ’cause at the funeral today, you said she was your wife. Not ex-wife. Wife.”

“I just meant that we had something together. We weren’t nothing, you know. I deserved to be up there with Riley and Tobias’s little bastards. Way more than Hollis, that’s for sure.”

“Over fifteen healed fractures makes me wonder if you’re wrong about that,” Josie said. “Why were you really there?”