The Girl With No Name

Chapter Thirty-Nine

As Josie drove back to the station house, Dunn’s words played again and again in her head. It’s never wise to piss off people who have what you want most, is it? She couldn’t help but hope that he had said that because Luke was still alive. She wondered what they wanted from him. She was working under the assumption that Dunn’s men had gone to Luke’s house looking for Kim—so why had they taken Luke, and what was the benefit in keeping him alive? Or had Dunn killed him already and dumped his body somewhere it would never be found? Was he just playing with Josie?

Josie’s thoughts were still swirling as she made her way to the second floor of the station house, where her office was located. Before she even turned the corner into the main room, she could hear Trinity Payne’s voice coming from the television on the wall. “Tomorrow, jurors will be presented with the weapons that police believe Aaron King used in the commission of his crimes, including the machete that he used to attack a state trooper the night of his arrest.” Even Noah was perched on the edge of a desk, staring intently at the screen. Josie cleared her throat and everyone in the room scrambled, suddenly trying to look busy. Noah snatched the remote control from his desk and quickly turned the television off.

“Sorry, boss,” he mumbled.

She pointed to her office and he followed her inside. “Misty was awake earlier, but very disorientated,” he told her. “I went over there to see her. The doctors say she’s in no condition to answer any questions yet, and they’re right. She responded to her name but didn’t have answers to any of my questions. The surgeon said it’s not unusual in the case of head injuries for the patient to have poor recall at first. We can go back tomorrow. Try again. There are no new leads on the baby or on Conway. No one on the staff at the Eudora remembers seeing Denny Twitch there with Dunn earlier this year.”

Josie plopped into her chair. “What about Gretchen?”

“Nothing. Dunn’s gone to a couple of meetings. His four goons travel everywhere with him. They never leave his side.”

“Did dispatch ping the phones?”

“Yeah, but they didn’t get anything. I’m waiting for the results of triangulation now. As soon as it comes in, I’ll let you know.”

“As soon as we get the coordinates, I want to move on it. Luke might still be alive.”

Noah opened his mouth to speak and hesitated. She knew what he was going to say—that she should prepare herself for the possibility that he wasn’t. Why would Dunn keep Luke alive? Noah was probably thinking about the most tactful way of saying that to her. The phone on her desk rang, and she snatched it up. “Quinn,” she barked.

It was Sergeant Lamay. “I’ve got the mayor down here. She’s got some, uh, friends with her. Says she just wants to talk.”

“Friends?” Josie asked.

“Gentleman friends. Three of them. Should I send them up?”

“No,” Josie said. “Put them in the conference room down there. I’ll be right down.”

“What do they want?” Noah wondered as they took the steps down to the first floor.

“I have no idea,” Josie answered.

Tara waited outside the conference room, looking every bit the mayor in her sharp black skirt suit with matching heels and perfectly applied make-up. Her hair hung to her shoulders, straight and shiny. From the scowl on her face, Josie could only guess that she had gathered some members of the city council to ask for Josie’s resignation as chief.

“What the hell is this?” Noah said from the side of his mouth, quiet enough so only Josie heard. She didn’t look at him.

“Mayor Charleston,” Josie said stiffly, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Chief Quinn,” Tara replied coldly.

Josie got straight to the point. “What is this about?”

Tara gave Noah an appraising look. Then she smiled tightly. “You know about my husband’s… interest in Ms. Derossi’s baby.”

That’s one way to put it, thought Josie. “Yes, I’m aware of it.”

“Well, he suggested that we offer a reward for his safe return.”

“That’s a great idea,” Josie said. “But as I am sure you’re aware, we don’t handle that here at the police department. Maybe one of the town watch groups could coordinate it.”

“I realize that you don’t handle it,” Tara said, sounding irritated. “I’m not asking you to collect or hold the reward money. As a courtesy to you, I wanted to let you know what we intend to do. The hope is a reward will generate a lot of tips. Your department would have to handle that.”

“I hope you’re right,” Josie said. “We’ll be ready to handle any tips that come in. I appreciate your extending me the courtesy.”

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Noah interjected. He ignored the dirty look Tara gave him and added, “I mean, you’re the mayor. Would you then be expected to offer a reward for every person who goes missing in the city?”

Tara’s icy façade warmed slightly. She folded her arms across her chest. “Well, yes, that’s exactly what I said. My husband, however, suggested that we ask people in the community for help. People who would have an interest in helping Misty, or people who do a lot of charitable giving.”

Josie suppressed her eye roll. Tara loved to turn everything into a meet and greet. She could have done all of this behind the scenes over the phone or through email, but that wouldn’t garner her enough attention—or credit for saving the day should the reward be fruitful. Even though it had been her husband’s idea because he had had an affair with Misty, if the baby were returned safely as a result of a tip that came in from a big reward, Tara would revel in it. Josie could see it now: Tara at a press conference handing over a giant check to a happy, heroic tipster while Misty bounced her baby boy on her knee in the background. What better press for Tara’s reelection bid? Fucking politicians. “Who have you talked into giving reward money?” Josie asked.

Like a game show hostess, Tara motioned toward the conference room door with a flourish. Noah brushed past both of them and opened the door.

Josie immediately recognized Misty’s boss, Butch. Beside him was a man in his fifties with gray hair, wearing a suit with no tie. Josie recognized him as Jack Coleman, the father of Isabelle Coleman, the teenager who had gone missing nearly two years ago, sparking an investigation that ultimately tore apart the town and got Josie’s husband, Ray, killed. Misty was the one who had found Isabelle, and Josie remembered how grateful the Colemans had been to her for keeping their daughter safe. Tara introduced the third man as Peter Rowland. He stood and shook both their hands. For a town legend, Josie had expected someone older, but Rowland looked to be only in his mid-forties, if that. He had thick brown hair, brushed back neatly from his face, a long, straight nose that hooked at the end and closely set hazel eyes. She had also expected him to be wearing a suit, but instead he was dressed casually in jeans and a collared shirt.

Josie and Noah took seats at the table while Tara remained standing, as if giving a presentation. “Thank you all for being here,” she said. “I think with the people in this room we have gathered enough reward money to give this investigation a much-needed jolt.” She turned to Butch. “Mr. McConnell, you said you can offer $5,000, is that right?”

Butch’s basset hound cheeks sagged. “Yeah, that’s right,” he muttered.

Josie raised a brow. “That’s quite generous, Butch, putting that money toward an ex-employee. I didn’t realize you cared that much.”

“Yeah, well, my girls said it’s the right thing to do.”

Tara motioned toward Jack Coleman. “The Colemans have graciously agreed to give $10,000.”

Coleman nodded.

Rowland spoke, “And I’ll match both of those.” He turned to Josie and Noah and smiled. “So you’ve got $30,000 to offer as a reward for the safe return of the Derossi infant.”

Josie looked around the table. “That’s very generous, and I’m sure that Ms. Derossi will appreciate this very much. We’ll take any help we can get.”

They spoke for a few minutes more, hashing out the specific language to be used in all press releases before Tara ushered the three men out of the room. She instructed them to wait for her in the lobby and suggested they have lunch with a member of the civic association who would be able to collect their portions of the reward from each of them. Josie tried not to laugh at the look of horror that crossed Butch’s face. The civic association had never been a friend to the local strip club. Josie couldn’t imagine a more awkward meal.

Once they were out of earshot, Tara turned to Josie. “Chief Quinn, I expect this reward money will generate a lot of tips. I would hate to see the generosity of these good citizens go to waste.”

Beside Josie, Noah said, “We can’t control the tips that come in.”

“Noah,” Josie admonished, but Tara didn’t even look at him. Her gaze remained locked on Josie. She said, “I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake.”

Lives were at stake, but Josie knew that wasn’t what Tara was getting at. She was talking about Josie’s job and how Josie’s performance of that job reflected on her own reputation. “How did you get Rowland to contribute?” Josie asked.

Tara straightened her spine and folded her arms across her chest, looking at once defensive and smug. “I told him we could name the women’s center the Polly Rowland Center for Women. You know, after his late daughter.”

Josie and Noah nodded in unison. They knew the story. Rowland’s wife and twelve-year-old daughter had been killed by a drunk driver in New York City a year earlier. Rowland had left the city and spent months at his secluded home in Denton afterward.

“So, you got your funding for the women’s center,” Josie said. “And reward money?”

“He was thrilled with the idea of opening the center in Polly’s name. So much so that when I suggested he contribute to the reward for the Derossi infant, he readily agreed. As I said, I’d hate to see such generosity go to waste, especially when we are trying to do good things for this city.”

Josie sensed Noah opening his mouth again to protest and nudged him with her elbow. Arguing with Tara would only incense her. Josie felt badly that these well-meaning people were giving their money for tips that would never come, but that wasn’t a conversation she wanted to have with Tara at this juncture.

Assuming Eric Dunn had Misty’s baby, he wasn’t going to turn him in. She doubted anyone in his organization would rat him out and risk incurring his wrath for only $30,000. But it wasn’t up to Josie to tell people what to do with their money. Reward money often led to important tips, she couldn’t deny that. If there was even the slimmest chance of someone in Dunn’s organization coming forward for the reward, then it was worth offering. She just prayed that the baby was still alive.

Forcing a smile for Tara’s sake, Josie said, “We’ll do our best.”