Her Mother’s Grave

Chapter Sixty-Six

Josie caught several glares from nearby library users and lowered her voice, pressing the phone to her ear, gathering up her printouts, and heading outside. “Thank you for calling me back, Mrs. Payne,” she said.

A cool wind whipped up the steps of the library, so Josie moved behind one of the columns and out of the stream of people going in and out of the building.

Shannon Payne said, “I’m returning your call about my daughter. I talked to one of your detectives earlier. Is everything okay?” Josie heard her breath catch in her throat. “I guess it’s not, or you wouldn’t be calling—the chief of police. My God—”

“Mrs. Payne,” Josie interjected before she became hysterical, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any news. I was just calling to follow up and make sure that you, your husband, and your son are safe. I assure you that my team is doing everything they can to find Trinity.”

She hated lying to Shannon, especially while she was under such stress and worried about her child, but trying to explain the current situation would take too long. Plus, Josie knew that it was true that Denton PD would do everything in their power to find Trinity—Gretchen and Noah were already several steps ahead of her if they’d already contacted the Paynes.

“Oh, thank you,” Shannon said. “I certainly appreciate that. We’re fine. I mean, we’re not fine. We’re worried about my daughter, but we’re all accounted for and safe.”

“Excellent,” Josie said. “I just had a couple more questions, if you don’t mind. Does Trinity have a boyfriend?”

Shannon laughed. “Oh no. She doesn’t have time for that.”

“Thought so,” Josie said. “How about close friends? Anyone she would perhaps go and stay with if she needed to get away?”

Shannon was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I hate to say this, but Trinity doesn’t really have time for friends either. That sounds terrible, but you have to understand, she’s very career-driven.”

Josie couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh, I know, Mrs. Payne.”

Shannon laughed as well, albeit a little nervously. “I guess you would. She’s worked with you on a couple of cases, hasn’t she?”

“Yes, she’s been an invaluable resource.”

“I gave Detective Palmer the names of all the people I could think of that she’s friendly with in New York,” Shannon said. “But really, if she needed to get away for a while, she’d come here.”

“I understand,” Josie said, throat tightening. If Trinity didn’t have any friends, lovers, or other close associates she might run to in her time of need, then the likelihood that Lila was holding her against her will increased exponentially. Josie continued, “If you have any questions or you need anything at all, you can call Lieutenant Fraley or Detective Palmer. Of course, you’re welcome to contact me as well, but they’ll be actively working the case.”

“Well, there was just one more thing,” said Shannon. “Since I’ve got you on the phone.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Well, I don’t know that it has anything to do with Trinity, but it’s been bothering me.” She stopped. For a moment, Josie thought the call had dropped. Then she added, “It’s silly. I don’t even know why I’m bringing it up.”

“Go on,” Josie said. “I’m listening.”

A sigh. “Well, WYEP is running a story about a woman the Denton PD is trying to locate. They keep showing her picture and saying she is a person of interest in a number of local crimes. It’s quite an old photo, though.”

“Yes,” Josie said, wondering where this was going. “Her name was Lila Jensen, but she used the alias Belinda Rose for many years.”

“I knew her as Belinda.”

Josie’s heartbeat skipped twice. “What?”

“My husband thinks I’m crazy,” she said, laughing nervously.

“That’s men for you,” Josie replied. “Go on.”

“She used to work for the cleaning service that came out to our house. In the mid to late ’80s.”

“Handy Helpers?” Josie asked before remembering that Handy Helpers had closed in 1984 after the death of its owner.

“Oh, no. I think they were called AB Clean. There were a few girls who used to come out, and she was one of them. After she started, things began disappearing from our home. Mostly my jewelry. I reported her to her boss, and he fired her. Not even a week later, our home burned to the ground. My girls were home with the nanny. They were only a few weeks old. Only Trinity survived.”

“I’m aware of the fire,” Josie said. “Did the authorities ever check her alibi?”

“They did look into it, they claimed, and said she had an alibi for the day of the fire, but I’ve always thought…” She trailed off.

Josie filled in the end of her sentence: “You think Belinda had something to do with the fire?”

A heavy sigh. “I don’t know. I’ve never even been able to say it out loud until very recently. Like I said, the police told us that she was nowhere near Callowhill when the fire started. But it always bothered me. She was… there was something about her, something… dark. That sounds terrible. Really, I should just shut up. None of this has anything to do with my daughter. I’m probably just trying to distract myself—bringing up this old stuff so I don’t have to think about where my daughter might be or what’s happening to her.” Josie heard her sob, then suck in several deep breaths. Then she added, “I don’t know if I’m even making sense.”

Josie leaned against the column and closed her eyes, the phone still pressed to her ear. “You’re making perfect sense.”

Shannon took in several more breaths. “Anyway, I just saw her picture on the television, and it gave me a shock. It brought back all the memories from the fire. It just hit too close to home. Losing a child, and now with Trinity missing…”

It was too strange, too coincidental. Belinda getting fired from cleaning the Paynes’ house and then the fire soon after. All of it taking place the year Josie was born.

“I understand,” Josie said. “I do. Listen, if you don’t mind my asking, where were the girls when the fire started?”

“They were sleeping in their playpen in the family room. The nanny—before she died—said they were both asleep, and she’d just nipped to the bathroom for a moment. When she came out, the downstairs was filled with smoke. She said she could hardly see. She ran to the family room to get the girls, but only Trinity was still in the playpen. She scooped Trinity up and ran her outside. One of our neighbors had come out by then. The nanny handed Trinity to her and went back in. When the fire department arrived, they found her searching the house and made her come out. The police were always very suspicious of her. They never believed her story that only one of the girls was in the playpen. If she hadn’t died, I think they would have tried to pin the whole thing on her. But if she had started the fire, why would she rescue only one of the girls, and then go back into the house? It makes no sense. She was lucky she survived for the few days she did after the fire. The fire department said my daughter was—” Shannon’s words halted, and a high-pitched cry penetrated Josie’s ear. She took several moments to recover herself, and Josie could hear her quiet weeping like a hundred thorns piercing her heart. Clearing her throat, Shannon said, “The fire chief told us that she had been… incinerated in the fire. She was so tiny. We didn’t even have any remains to bury.”

Josie tried to speak—to say she was sorry, to utter some words of comfort or empathy. She wasn’t a mother, but it had taken her only moments to bond with little baby Harris. Even though she saw him infrequently, she knew that if anything ever happened to him, she would never recover. And Misty would be utterly destroyed. Normal mothers—good mothers—loved their children. This was a fact Josie had always known intellectually, but never experienced.

“I’m sorry,” Shannon said. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s ridiculous. Like I said, I’m just deflecting or whatever psychologists call it so I don’t have to think about the fact that my Trinity is missing.”

“I’ll find her,” Josie said, her voice returning. This she could do. “I promise you, I’m going to find her.”