The Girl With No Name

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Josie made it to the Atlantic East Cryobank just after lunch time. It took up the second floor of a six-story square brick and glass office building. The door was solid and unwelcoming. Josie wondered momentarily if it was locked, but when she pushed, it opened to reveal a small reception area with black vinyl guest chairs lining the walls. A few end tables had been scattered throughout with magazines piled on top of them. Field and Stream, Sports Illustrated, and Motorcycle Racing. It was a waiting room tailored for men. Josie imagined they saved the porn magazines for when customers were giving samples.

A window had been cut into one of the walls. Josie walked up to it and peered inside. The area beyond it was filled with a series of cubicles. She rapped her knuckles against the glass and a moment later a woman appeared and slid the window open. “Can I help you?”

Josie flashed her credentials. “I’m here to see Diana Sweeney.”

The woman frowned. She looked as though she might ask questions but then decided against it, instead telling Josie to have a seat before closing the window. Josie had no sooner sat in one of the chairs when a door beside the window opened and a different woman stepped out. She was in her forties, heavyset, her brown hair tied back in a bun, gray strands just starting to show at her temples. A pair of glasses sat on her nose, and she looked over them at Josie, smiling.

“Josie Quinn?”

Josie stood and extended a hand but instead, the woman embraced her, pulling her tightly into a hug. “Miss Sweeney,” Josie said when she released her.

Diana Sweeney smiled. “It’s lovely to meet you finally. Come.”

Josie followed her through the door and past a labyrinth of cubicles until they came to her tiny workstation. It was only big enough for Diana’s desk and one guest chair. Diana cleared her purse and file folder from the chair and offered it to Josie. Around them rose the soft murmur of female voices and the steady click-clack of fingers typing away on keyboards. The inner walls of Diana’s cubicle were filled with photos of Diana and various people who Josie assumed were family and friends. Josie recognized the photo of Diana and her sister. It was the same one that Diana had sent to Josie six months earlier.

Diana saw her staring at the photo, and she ran a finger over her sister’s face. “She was missing for thirteen years before you found her.”

Josie knew this from the letter Diana had sent along with the photo. “I didn’t actually find her,” Josie said. “It was a team of FBI personnel.”

Diana turned toward Josie, a beatific smile on her face. Tears shone in her eyes. “Only because you told them where to look. Because of you, all those families finally have answers—just like us. They can finally lay their loved ones to rest.”

It was familiar territory, and yet Josie still felt uncomfortable with the esteem that came with her having uncovered not one, but two, serial killers who had been operating in Denton for decades. She was happy that she had given so many families closure, but it was hard to feel heroic given that so many lives had been lost.

“Thank you for your letter,” Josie said. “That meant a lot. I have that same photo pinned in my office.”

A tear slid down Diana’s cheek and she swiped it away. She took a moment to compose herself, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“My colleague called you earlier today,” Josie said. “Detective Gretchen Palmer. It was about a donor mix-up.”

Diana nodded. “I remember. She wanted to know the results of the internal investigation and more information about the other donor.”

“Yes. Misty Derossi, the woman who received the, uh, donation, was attacked in her home. Her newborn baby was abducted.”

Diana searched out a brochure from behind a stack of files on her desk. “That is truly terrible,” she told Josie. “You know I am sympathetic—especially given the abduction—but do you really think that has anything to do with Ms. Derossi’s donor situation?”

“We don’t know,” Josie replied. “But we have to explore every avenue. A baby’s life is in danger.”

Diana peeled a Post-it from the pad on her desk and pressed it into the folds of the brochure. She picked up a pen. “Well, Chief Quinn, as much as I would love to help you—and I would, believe me, I would—I can’t breach confidentiality. I could lose my job.”

She scribbled something on the Post-it, folded the brochure, and handed it to Josie. “But everything you need to know about our policies and procedures are in this pamphlet. As I suggested to Detective Palmer, if you submit some warrants to our legal department, I’m sure they can provide whatever information you need.”

“That could take days,” Josie said.

Diana reached over and tapped the brochure with one finger. She smiled conspiratorially at Josie. Her voice was sympathetic but firm. “I’m very sorry, Chief Quinn. This is the best I can do.”

Josie said goodbye to Diana and left. Inside her vehicle, she opened the pamphlet and read the scrawled note. “Give me a day or two. The files you’re looking for are password protected and above my pay grade. I’ll need to come up with a good excuse to access them. But I’ll do what I can do.” Beneath that was Diana Sweeney’s cell phone number.

Josie punched the number into her phone and sent a text. “The pamphlet was very helpful. Thank you.”

The reply was almost instantaneous. “My pleasure. Talk soon.”