Page 40 of The Couple’s Secret (Detective Josie Quinn #23)

Thirty-Six

Bruce Olsen’s office was located just outside the state capital of Harrisburg in a five-story brick building that overlooked the Susquehanna River.

Josie had read his biography before she set up the appointment.

It had seemed fairly innocuous at the time but now, standing in front of a heavy wooden door with Olsen’s name stenciled across it, Turner’s words looped through her head.

She couldn’t dismiss the possibility that someone on Brighton Springs PD had been involved in the deaths of Cora and Tobias.

Bruce Olsen was a retired Brighton Springs police officer.

He had retired long before Cora and Tobias vanished but prior to that, he’d served on the force for thirty years.

The first time she’d heard his name, it had sounded familiar.

After a quick search of Fanning’s case file, she knew why.

The night of the murders, Olsen had thrown a retirement party at his home for a different member of the Brighton Springs PD, Karl Staab, which Jackson had attended.

Olsen and several guests had attested to Jackson’s attendance.

Fanning’s extensive check of Jackson’s phone records, pings from his cell phone and GPS from the infotainment center of his vehicle all confirmed his presence at the party well into the night.

But Fanning hadn’t checked the alibis of any of the other party attendees—most of whom were either former or current sworn Brighton Springs PD officers. Including Bruce Olsen.

Turner was an unrepentant pain in the ass, but he had a point. Maybe they weren’t being liberal enough with their definition of a criminal organization.

Gretchen rapped against the door. A muffled voice from behind it called for them to come in.

The reception area was clean and welcoming.

Cushy chairs formed an L around a coffee table scattered with magazines.

In one corner, a water cooler hummed. In another stood a potted plant that had clearly outgrown its home, fronds spreading in every direction.

An empty desk took up the rest of the area.

From the half-open door beside it, Bruce Olsen emerged.

He was smaller and shorter than the photos on his website, but he still moved with the air of someone used to taking charge.

The light gray suit he wore added to the impression and his thin, wire-rimmed glasses made him look studious as well as confident.

Though he gave off more of a college professor vibe than that of former law enforcement.

“Detectives,” he greeted them. “Glad you found the place okay. Please, step into my office.”

Moments later, after making introductions, Josie and Gretchen were seated in front of his desk.

The space was just as clean and warm as the reception area.

The window behind Olsen was large and offered a partial view of the river.

Next to that was a bookcase filled with framed photographs.

Some were official—Olsen in uniform alongside colleagues or superiors.

Others were clearly him with his family.

By the looks of those, he was now a great-grandfather.

“I was devastated to hear about Tobias and Cora,” he said, settling into his own chair.

“I don’t think anyone was holding out for a happy ending, but it still hurts to know the reality.

And now Riley? I saw it on the news. She was a sweet person.

It’s incredibly tragic. How are the boys? Have you spoken with them?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Gretchen told him.

He smoothed a hand down his light blue tie.

“Right. Of course. I called but didn’t get an answer.

They’ve had their hands full, I’m sure, between the press and the funerals.

Now with Riley…I didn’t know Jackson had married her.

I’ll call again later today. Anyway, listen, I’m sorry you came all this way because I never found anything.

Nothing more than John Fanning did. You’re welcome to my files though.

Since they relate to a double homicide, I don’t see an issue with confidentiality. ”

“Jackson referred Riley to you,” Josie said. “Is that right?”

“Correct,” Olsen said. “I hosted a party the night Tobias and Cora disappeared. Friend of mine on the force retired. Karl Staab. Jackson was there.”

“How did Jackson know Staab?” Gretchen asked.

Olsen laughed. “From his hell-raising days. Jackson’s, that is.

Karl and I went way back with that family.

Before At Your Disposal was opened, Tobias helped me clean out my late mom’s house.

She was a bit of a hoarder so it was quite the undertaking.

I paid him for the work. There were some items my mom had that were valuable and Tobias sold them to collectors for me.

It was a nice little windfall. He never took a commission though.

When Karl’s dad died, I sent him to Tobias, too.

He didn’t get near as much as I did but it was still a tidy sum.

So later, when it was just Tobias and the boys, Karl and I did what we could to look out for them.

Those kids got into the usual type of trouble and Tobias would call one of us up, ask us to come around and scare some sense into them. ”

“What kind of trouble?” Josie asked.

“Underage drinking. Vandalizing school property. Taking Tobias’s car for a joyride without a license and running it through a neighbor’s garden. Harmless stuff. For a time after Gabrielle passed, they were a little lost. A little wild. They settled.”

“You weren’t at the funerals,” Gretchen said.

“Karl wasn’t either,” Josie added.

If either Olsen or Staab had been there, surely they would have approached Zane and Jackson.

“No. Karl passed a few years ago. Cancer. I was in California, looking into something for a client. By the time I found out, it was too late for me to catch a flight home in time.”

“Had you ever met Cora?” Josie asked.

He blinked. “Cora? No. By the time she came onto the scene, Tobias and I—well, we hadn’t spoken for a while.”

“Why not?” Gretchen said.

“I won’t be violating any client confidentiality rules here since this happened before I retired from the Brighton Springs PD. When Jackson turned eighteen, he came to me and asked me to find his mom.”

“Rachel Wright,” Josie said.

“Yes. Did he tell you what happened?”

“Fanning mentioned it,” said Gretchen. “She ran off with some guy.”

Sorrow flickered in Olsen’s eyes. “That was a long time ago. I was on patrol. Jackson was only about three or four. She left in the middle of the day, left little Jackson alone. Must have been hours. He was a mess. Crying hysterically. He got out of the house. A neighbor found him on the road and called 911.”

Fanning had given them a more sanitized version. One in which Tobias returned home from work to find Jackson alone in the house and Rachel gone. No mention of the 911 call.

“It was awful,” Olsen continued. “It was summer but that poor kid was shivering like it was below freezing and he just kept saying, ‘Mommy went in Victor, Mommy went in Victor.’ It was one of those things—you know how kids that age don’t always get their diction or grammar right?

Under different circumstances it might have been cute but it was just sad.

Anyway, Rachel left a note saying she didn’t want to be a wife or mother anymore, basically gave her son to Tobias.

Thing was, Jackson didn’t remember anything.

Tobias was understandably hurt by the whole thing, and he didn’t want to talk about it.

When he found out that Jackson came to me, he was really upset. Told me not to help him.”

“Why didn’t he want you to help Jackson?” Gretchen said.

Olsen sighed. “Tobias thought that it would make things worse for him. Rachel abandoned him. Even if I found her and Jackson confronted her, it was never going to be a happy reunion. Tobias begged me to leave it alone. To just tell Jackson that I couldn’t locate her.

He made a good case for it. I knew how troubled those kids were with everything that had happened.

Rachel leaving. Gabrielle dying. Jackson had just graduated high school.

He was finally in a good place. Tobias didn’t want anything to mess with his future.

He said if Jackson still wanted to find her when he was older, more mature, then he wouldn’t interfere. ”

“What did you do?” Josie asked.

Olsen shrugged and in the small motion, Josie swore she saw the mantle of guilt weighing him down.

“I told Jackson I didn’t find her. After that, Tobias and I drifted apart a little.

I saw him around from time to time but we didn’t really socialize.

I felt a bit guilty for lying to Jackson and I think Tobias knew that.

We weren’t on bad terms. Things were just…

kind of awkward after that whole thing.”

A cell phone on his desk buzzed, dancing along the surface. He glanced at it, frowned, and picked it up. “I have to take this.”

“We can wait in reception,” Gretchen said but he waved her off.

“Stay here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

They heard him move through the lobby and then into the hall, voice low but tense.

“Well,” Gretchen said, running a hand through her hair. “We’re eating another juicy nothing burger.”

Josie stood up, stretching her arms over her head, and walked over to the window.

The river had narrowed here, too, from the drought.

The rocks, mud, and grass of its bed were exposed.

Dry and brittle. Her cell phone chirped, and she took it out of her pocket, releasing a groan of frustration as she read the text from Noah.

I’m going to pay the balance on the venue. We only have a few hours left to do it.

Quickly, she tapped back:

We haven’t spoken to Wren about this yet.

Trinity called her yesterday and sold her on it pretty quickly.

Josie gritted her teeth. She didn’t know whether to be pissed at her sister for going behind her back or relieved that she no longer had to pitch the ceremony to Wren herself. She was both, actually.

Call Shannon. She said you need to have a final fitting for your dress. Also she wants me to buy you an anniversary band to go with your engagement ring.

A laugh that made her sound positively psychotic burst from her mouth. She typed: you have got to be fucking kidding me but then quickly deleted it. She did a minute of box breathing, happy as hell that Bruce Olsen was taking so long. Then she prepared a different response.

An anniversary band for our five-year anniversary? To go with an engagement ring that I never get to wear?

While Noah had chosen an understated—though gorgeous—engagement ring for her, it was not appropriate for work, which was where she spent most of her time.

She only got to wear it if they were going out to dinner or to a party or some other event.

Now she was even more protective of it since it had been stolen during Noah’s abduction and only recently returned to her by the state police.

She said it will give me something to slip onto your finger, Noah responded.

The thought of how much they’d already spent on this thing with her mother treating it like the royal wedding and not the simple, intimate ceremony she’d originally wanted made the acid in her stomach boil. They had Wren-related costs to worry about now, too. Those were far more important.

Josie’s thumbs punched against her screen at furious speed. Absolutely not. We cannot afford to spend that kind of money right now and it’s not necessary. This isn’t a wedding. It’s a vow renewal. Just wait till I get home and we can talk about all this.

Fine. I’ll just make the payment.

Did she really want to go through with this now? Did he? Trying another tactic, she messaged: We still haven’t discussed you getting help for your nightmares.

One has nothing to do with the other, he shot back. We can talk about that later. I’m paying the balance so we don’t lose the venue.

She quietly released a long stream of expletives.

Under any other circumstances, she would call him and argue that last point.

That he wasn’t in the right headspace to go through with the vow renewal.

She’d guilt him into agreeing to see a therapist. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do that while in the middle of an interview.

She couldn’t deal with any of this madness right now.

Noah knew that. He’d probably waited until she was in Harrisburg for that very reason.

Maybe he thought she wouldn’t even see his message until it was too late.

“Trouble?” Gretchen asked.

Josie resisted the urge to throw her phone onto the floor and stomp it into a thousand pieces. “Something like that. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

If fine meant having absolutely no control over your life anymore.

“I’m fine,” she repeated unnecessarily.

Gretchen knew her well enough not to push.

Taking a deep breath, Josie distracted herself by studying the photographs on the bookshelf.

There were several of Olsen with a large family.

Over fifteen people, from what looked to be his wife to several toddlers.

Her eyes roved over the other frames, spotting photos of Olsen with at least three Pennsylvania governors, some taken while he was on Brighton Springs PD and one more recently.

In a handful of pictures, he stood beside other men in suits, friends or business colleagues, most likely.

Another showed him receiving a commendation of valor while still an officer.

Then there was one of Olsen alone, several years younger, his white hair threaded with brown.

Grinning broadly, he sat at a desk with a nameplate that identified him as a private investigator.

Had this photo been taken to mark the occasion of him receiving his private investigator license?

Hanging his shingle out? She leaned in closer.

The desk he sat behind was different although like the one here, it was positioned so that a window was at Olsen’s back.

The view from it wasn’t all that crisp but it was enough to see part of the building beyond. Walkways. Exterior doors with numbers on them—just smudges from this distance—but everything was painted cream and sea-foam green.

Like the Majesty Motel.