Find Her Alive (Detective Josie Quinn #8) - Lisa Regan Page 0,19

it. Alex had watched her stand in front of the painting for hours each day, brooding over what it was that Frances found wanting. He, too, had studied its abstract whorls and lines and splashes. To him, it looked the same as the last several paintings she had sold that had made Frances so proud of her. Yet, she hadn’t finished it.

He went back into the hallway and listened. Frances was out tending to his duties. Zandra, as usual, was locked away.

She had told him that she hadn’t meant to hurt their mother, but that wasn’t true. It had given her some kind of thrill. Alex knew it. He had been aware of the look on her face as their mother bled. It was the same expression Alex had seen on their dad’s face the day the raptor flew down from the sky and snatched the snake away. A sort of wonder. Admiration. Almost… joy. The first few times Zandra did it, their mother scolded her but didn’t tell Frances. But the last time—the time Zandra had sliced Hanna’s arm so badly that she needed stitches—their mother had called their father on the telephone. “We’ve had an incident,” she’d said. Then she’d looked at Zandra with regret. As though she was sorry for what was about to happen to her.

Shaking the memory from his head, Alex made his way down the steps and outside. An hour later, he had gathered enough feathers to complete the painting. He used his mother’s hot glue gun to fix them onto the painting until it looked like wings were emerging from a fusion of color beneath. He was surveying his work when he heard a gasp from the doorway. He turned to see Hanna standing in her shift, one hand covering her heart.

“Oh Alex,” she murmured. “It’s beautiful. It’s exactly right, isn’t it?” She stepped forward, admiring it. “Wait until your father sees this!”

Wordlessly, Alex unplugged the glue gun and shuffled toward the door.

“Honey,” she called after him.

“Yes, Mom.”

“Thank you. Let’s just not tell your father, okay? For now?”

“Sure.”

Eleven

Josie, Noah, and Mettner sat at their desks in the second-floor great room at Denton PD headquarters. Chief Bob Chitwood stood before them, his thin arms crossed over his chest. Beneath gray stubble, his acne-pitted cheeks grew pinker with each fact that the detectives relayed about Trinity’s disappearance. Wisps of his white hair floated over the top of his scalp as he turned his head from Mettner to Josie and back. When they finished recapping what little they knew, Chitwood pointed a finger at Mettner. “This is your case. Quinn and Fraley can assist, but you’re the lead.” Chitwood aimed his finger at Josie. “You. Stay on the sidelines, you got that?”

“Sir,” Josie protested. “It’s my sister.”

“I know that, Quinn. That means you’re too close. This is Mettner’s case, understand? He calls the shots.”

“Yes, sir,” Josie said, relieved he wasn’t going to send her home or forbid her from having any involvement at all.

“When Detective Palmer gets here, she can run secondary. But Quinn,” he added in a warning tone, “your sister is a celebrity. The minute the press gets wind of this, they’re going to be on us like flies on crap. They’ll want interviews and comments. I don’t want to see your face on TV unless Mett says so. You got that?”

Josie nodded. Chitwood gave her a long, appraising look, one of his bushy white brows kinking upward before he turned toward Noah. “You stay out of it too, you got that, Fraley?”

“Chief—” Noah began but Chitwood cut him off.

“Don’t want to hear it, Fraley. You assist Mettner and Palmer. That’s it.”

Noah didn’t respond, watching silently as Chitwood walked back to his office and slammed the door behind him. Mettner picked up the receiver of his desk phone and started dialing. “I’m going to contact the network in New York, see if I can get in touch with Trinity’s assistant first thing,” he said.

Noah added, “Ask her about Trinity’s dentist, would you? We need those dental records before the close of business today if possible.”

Josie looked at her cell phone. It would be a couple of hours before Shannon, Christian, and Patrick arrived from their hometown of Callowhill. She couldn’t move forward with the investigation—or help Mettner move forward with it—until the ERT had something, or at least until they released some of the contents of Trinity’s car. She thought about making some calls as well, but who else was there to call? Trinity