Page 9 of The Couple’s Secret (Detective Josie Quinn #23)

Seven

The sun was coming up as Josie let herself into her backyard.

Once she had removed her Tyvek suit, the full effect of her stench had nearly knocked her off her feet, not to mention everyone around her.

Hummel had joked that Noah might ask for a divorce once he got a whiff of her.

Then Noah had shown up to relieve her and Gretchen and pretended to go along with Hummel’s suggestion.

Josie had let her colleagues have a good laugh at her expense because after the night they’d had, they sorely needed it.

Still, none of them had dived into the river and disturbed the thick, slimy film enveloping Tobias Lachlan’s sedan.

She hadn’t gone home to change mostly because she had nothing to change into.

Instead, she’d air-dried before slipping on her crime scene gear.

Then she’d sweated for hours while hauling buckets of mud and remains before night fell and the air turned cold.

Now, she latched the fence behind her and started toward the back door, wondering if she’d be able to get the odor out of the upholstery in her car.

A few shafts of sunlight slanted into the yard, landing directly on one of the large wooden sculptures lined up in what used to be a flowerbed.

Josie paused to admire the way the morning light illuminated every small detail of the intricate carving.

It was one of her favorites, a dragon. Dexter McMann had made his living as an artist, sculpting animals and mythical creatures out of cut tree trunks, although to Josie it always looked more like he’d simply set free what lay trapped beneath the bark.

All of his creations were startlingly lifelike.

It had taken Josie a full month before she could come into the yard without feeling watched.

After Dex’s death, his house had been sold.

The proceeds were put into a trust for Wren.

They could have sold his sculptures, but Wren had wanted to keep them.

Every person Josie and Noah knew had balked at this idea.

Their yard was a decent size, but it wasn’t huge.

Plus, moving the ten pieces from Dex’s property to theirs had been costly and difficult, requiring heavy equipment and city permits.

The sculptures took up nearly half the yard and Noah had had to put up wire fencing to keep Trout from relieving himself on them.

All of it was worth it to see the look of joy and relief on Wren’s face when she came home from her new school and saw them out back.

Josie had no regrets.

“Oh wow, you stink.” Dressed in pajama pants and one of her dad’s old T-shirts, Wren sat at the outdoor table on their patio, knees drawn to her chest. She wrinkled her nose as Josie got closer. “I’m sorry. That was so rude. But…wow.”

Josie laughed and tried to run her fingers through her hair, but it was stiff and matted. “I’m aware.”

Wren studied her and Josie’s breath caught in her throat when she realized the girl’s guard was down—at least for a moment.

“I’m not trying to be mean, but did you fall into a dumpster or something?”

It was the most she’d said to Josie in weeks, and she could tell by Wren’s wide, curious gaze and her interested tone that she really wasn’t trying to be impolite.

“A dumpster might have smelled better,” Josie said, looking down at Noah’s long, wrinkled shirt, now streaked with dirt.

Wren laughed and Josie’s chest felt full, expanding with nervousness and a weird kind of hope. Was this progress, or had she just caught Wren at a weak moment? Josie mentally prepared herself for the inevitable shutdown.

“Hey, is that Noah’s shirt?”

“Uh, yeah.” This was the perfect opportunity to discuss the lip gloss massacre and yet, it would ruin this light moment between them.

This glorious glimpse of what things could be like if Wren would just open up.

Every fiber of Josie’s being screamed at her to forget about her ruined work attire and lean into this fleeting feeling that Wren might actually let her in one day.

But she couldn’t.

Dex hadn’t given her custody of Wren so she could silently stand on the sidelines hoping that one day the girl would like her. Josie didn’t know much about parenting, but she knew it shouldn’t look like that.

Why was doing the right thing always so damn uncomfortable?

“Wren,” said Josie, keeping her voice firm and even.

“I had to wear Noah’s shirt because when I took my work clothes out of the dryer, they were all stained.

You accidentally left your lip gloss inside a pair of your shorts in the washer from the last time you did your laundry.

They got mixed in with my stuff when I switched my clothes to the dryer.

Unfortunately, the shorts couldn’t be saved either.

I can get you a new pair. Also, I—I’d appreciate it if, in the future, you could take a little extra time to check your pockets. ”

Waiting for a response felt like cranking the arm on one of those jack-in-the-box toys and wondering if the stupid thing was going to pop out every time you made a complete rotation.

Wren bit her lower lip. Her eyes drifted down to the surface of the table where her closed sketchbook rested. She touched the pencil on top of it, rolling it under her fingertips. “Okay,” she said.

The tension in Josie’s shoulders loosened just a bit. “Great.”

“I’m really sorry,” Wren added.

“No need to apologize,” Josie said in a lighter tone. “It was an accident. Just be mindful of it in the future. That’s all.”

She was probably pressing her luck, asking to be punched in the face by the imaginary jack-in-the-box, but she forged ahead anyway. “Also, we need to talk about privacy. Did you go through my nightstand?”

Josie waited for a denial because that seemed like exactly what a teenager in this situation would do.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d interviewed or interrogated a teenage suspect who owned up to what they’d done—at least not the first five times they were asked.

Instead, Wren remained silent. She picked up her pencil, squeezing it in her palm.

Drawing her knees closer to her chest, she curled in on herself, ducking her face behind her knees.

“Wren?”

She tucked the pencil in the space between her legs and her torso, then picked up the sketchbook and did the same. This wasn’t just shutting down. This was something else altogether.

From the back door came Trout’s mournful whine. When neither of them walked over and opened the door right away, he began scratching frantically at the screen. It wasn’t his typical I-have-to-go-to-the-bathroom scratching. He was upset. Needing to get to them. No, not to them. To Wren.

She was afraid.

Josie went to the door and let Trout out.

Just as she suspected, he made a beeline for Wren, pacing around the legs of her chair, whimpering.

When he jumped up, bracing one paw on the edge of the seat and hitting her with his other paw, she petted his head.

It didn’t help. He’d always been uncannily in tune with Josie’s emotions, growing agitated or distraught at the smallest shift, often signaling her turmoil before it was ever noticeable to anyone else.

Since Wren arrived, he’d bonded to her in the same way.

With a small bark, he looked at Josie pointedly, as if to tell her to do something about this.

“Wren.” Josie softened her tone and pulled out the nearest chair. “You don’t have to— I just wanted to talk about the rules.”

No response.

Had she screwed this up? Was mentioning the lip gloss and the privacy thing in the same conversation too much for their fragile dynamic?

The snooping was intentional whereas leaving a lip gloss in the washer was an accident.

Maybe she should have prioritized discussing the snooping and mentioned the lip gloss another time.

Or maybe she should have waited until she wasn’t exhausted and malodorous to talk about them altogether.

How the hell did parents know what to do in these situations?

Trout pawed at Josie’s thigh, grunting noisily. She wasn’t fixing this fast enough for him.

The one thing this kid knows for sure, with one hundred percent certainty based on her experience, is that the people who are supposed to take care of her die.

Josie had no doubt that Turner was correct, but she thought of the bones she’d just collected from inside Tobias Lachlan’s car and knew she and Noah dying wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to Wren.

Even a mysterious disappearance wasn’t at the top of that list. All of their family and friends adored the girl.

They’d chosen Trinity and Drake to assume guardianship in the event of a common disaster.

That was legal speak for Josie and Noah dying at the same time.

None of that would matter, however, if Josie and Noah decided they didn’t want to be parents, after all. The worst thing that could happen to Wren was them deciding they didn’t want her anymore.

The full feeling in Josie’s chest transformed into a viselike grip.

All this time, Josie thought that Wren hated them.

Maybe she hated the idea of being passed off to strangers.

That was fair. Her grief likely accounted for a lot of her sour moods and monosyllabic responses to their questions.

Briefly, Josie wondered at the logic of staying closed off to her and Noah because she was afraid they’d dump her into the foster care system.

Then again, she was fourteen. Her entire life had just been shattered.

Again. She’d lost the only person left in the world who loved her.

Then every single thing about her life had changed.

Drastically. Logic had no chance against that trauma.

“Wren,” Josie said again. “I know it’s not by choice and I know it’s not what you want, but you’re family now. Our family. All families have rules.”

Wren’s face rose just a fraction, but it was enough for Josie to see her wary eyes.

“Your mom had rules, right? And later, when you moved in with your dad, I’m sure he had them, too. Although, knowing Dex, they were probably more like gentle suggestions.”

A muffled snort came from behind Wren’s knees. Trout finally stopped whining and scratching Josie’s leg.

“When I was thirteen, your dad moved in with us.” Josie had no idea how much Dex had told her about their history. They hadn’t talked about it much since Wren arrived, mostly because Wren never wanted to talk.

Now, she lifted her head, straightening her spine, and said, “He told me everything. What—um—what the woman you lived with then was like. Gorgeous and charming at first and then cruel and horrible.”

Both Josie and Dex had the scars to prove that.

“He said he didn’t realize just how vicious and heartless she was until it was too late.”

“No one ever did.” Josie sighed and scratched her neck.

Flecks of dried mud fell onto her lap. “Anyway, he moved in and it took me a long time to trust him, but I figured out that he genuinely cared for me. He took care of me. Looked out for me. He wasn’t the kind of guy who would get all stern and start barking orders. ”

Wren laughed and Josie’s heart gave a little flutter.

“I guess that never changed,” Josie said.

A barely noticeable smile curled Wren’s lips. “Nope.”

Josie pulled at the collar of Noah’s shirt, unleashing a small whiff of death and brackish water. “You might have noticed that Noah and I aren’t the types to bark orders either, but we do need to establish rules. Boundaries. That means respecting each other’s privacy, okay?”

Slowly, Wren nodded. The humor in her eyes fled, replaced by that old wariness, though it wasn’t as strong as before.

“If there’s something you want to know,” Josie added, “just ask. I would never keep anything that has to do with your dad from you, not even a letter specifically addressed to me.”

“I’m sorry I went through your things,” Wren said, voice small.

“I accept your apology.” Josie stood up and walked to the back door. “Now, I’ve got to put these clothes in the washer, take a shower, and get some sleep. You’re hanging out with Erica today, right?”

“Yes. Can I still go?”

Josie paused, fingers wrapped around the door handle. She opened her mouth to ask why Wren wouldn’t be able to go and then realized it was because she expected to be grounded for what she’d done.

Josie really was shit at this parenting thing.

Trying to make her voice sound more confident and authoritative than she felt, she said, “This time, yes, but if you go through my things—or Noah’s—without asking again, there will be consequences.”

“I won’t. I promise,” Wren said quickly.

With a nod, Josie opened the back door.

“Wait,” Wren called. “Why do you stink so bad?”

Josie weighed her possible answers. Wren knew that she and Noah were police detectives, but they’d never discussed their jobs with her.

She’d never been interested. Even if she had been, there were things they couldn’t tell her.

Things Josie wouldn’t want to tell her like how three people, two of whom had been teenagers when their parents vanished, were about to get the worst news of their lives.

Then again, the discovery of the remains of Tobias Lachlan and Cora Stevens wouldn’t stay secret for long.

Wren would be able to find all the details if she looked for them. For now, though, Josie kept it simple.

“I had to jump into the river to check something out.”