The Girl With No Name

Chapter Fifty-Nine

SATURDAY

It took several calls to Rowland’s attorney to set up another meeting. This time, Josie intended to put Rowland in the more intimidating interrogation room. But before that, she wanted to set the stage for what would look like a more friendly meeting between her and Rowland, assuming she could get him to dismiss his lawyer again. For this, Josie went to a small coffee shop on Denton’s Main Street, Komorrah’s Koffee. The inside was warm and redolent with the smells of coffee brewing and pastries baking. Two employees stood behind the counter to the right of the entrance, both staring at their phones. The walls were lined with black and white photos of various sites in and around Denton. She ordered several coffees and a dozen pastries.

While she waited, she perused the photos lining the walls. Many of them were of familiar rock formations found in the woods surrounding the city. They’d been taken by a local photographer who’d gone on to be quite successful and now traveled the world, freelancing for magazines and websites like National Geographic and the Smithsonian. Josie recognized a few formations that only residents intimate with the city’s geography would know. She knew them well: Broken Heart, The Stacks, Turtle.

Her phone chirped. As she pulled up the text from Noah which simply read ‘Rowland,’ Peter Rowland stepped through the door to the coffee shop. He wore a light-gray suit and burgundy tie. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked like a businessman. He walked over and stood beside her. Motioning to the photos, he said, “They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I have several in my apartment in New York.”

Josie stared at him. “I’m not sure we should be speaking without your attorney present,” she said.

Rowland smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Some things can’t be worked out with attorneys.”

Josie turned her body toward his. “Is that right?”

“When my attorney called me to set up this meeting today he said you had uncovered information concerning what you and I discussed privately yesterday.”

“Information about your other donor children,” Josie said. “That’s right.”

She hadn’t wanted to tell his attorney a damn thing about the reason for asking Rowland to come in for questioning, but the man refused to entertain her request without some kind of explanation. She’d been as cryptic as she could. She had told him that Rowland would know what she was talking about.

“Did you find them all?”

“You mean their graves?” Josie shot back.

A barely perceptible shadow crossed over his face. “How many do you know about?”

Josie’s heart paused and then skipped ahead several beats. This was exactly the conversation she wanted to have in her interrogation room with a camera recording every word. This didn’t count, not officially. There was a very distinct possibility that anything he told her in this context would be inadmissible should it ever make it to court. “I think we should discuss this at the police station,” she said, turning toward the counter. “Like we planned. I’ll see you there.”

“You didn’t have furniture for the first six months you lived in your house,” Rowland blurted.

Josie’s scalp tingled. She turned back to him. “What?”

Rowland stepped closer and lowered his voice. “When you bought your house, you didn’t have furniture for nearly six months. You had bedroom and kitchen furniture but that was it. You don’t have doors on your closets even though there is a brand new door for your bedroom closet sitting in your garage, unused. Think about how I would know these things.”

Her mind raced through the possibilities, but her heart knew there was only one way he would know that.

“You have Luke,” she croaked.

He didn’t answer or even nod his acknowledgment, but his gaze was laser-focused on her.

“Where?” she said.

“Not so fast.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you won’t accept my money.”

“You mean your bribe.” She knew she should leave. She should turn around and walk out and demand that they talk at the station, as planned. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of Luke. She didn’t want to think about the possibility of getting him back alive—to be disappointed would be too devastating, but she couldn’t stop the hope blooming inside her. She swallowed. “How do I know he’s still alive?”

Again, he ignored her question. “I don’t normally handle things this way—unofficially—but the information you’ve uncovered about me is… problematic, to say the least.”

“You had eight people murdered. Problematic doesn’t begin to describe it.”

“I need your help.”

“You want me to walk away from this?”

“I also need you to have a conversation with the reporter, Trinity Payne. Make sure all that you know doesn’t fall into her hands.”

“What if it already has?”

“You are close to her, are you not? Perhaps you can convince her to move on to more interesting stories,” Rowland suggested.

Josie nearly laughed. Trinity would die before she walked away from a story this big. But Rowland didn’t need to know that. “If I can convince her?”

“Then you’ll have a wedding to plan.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “What about Victor Derossi?”

“I might be able to help with your search, but I would need something else from you,” he said.

Josie shook her head. “Something besides me pretending you didn’t have eight people killed and convincing a reporter to do the same? You have some nerve.”

“No,” Rowland said. “I have things that you want. Think carefully, Chief, and choose wisely. Need I remind you that lives are at stake?”

Josie stepped closer to him. “What’s to stop me from taking you into custody right now?”

“You’re free to do that, obviously. But keep in mind, I’ve admitted nothing. Even if I had, you have no witnesses to this conversation. It would be my word against yours, and I need only make one phone call to the mayor to have you instantly removed from your position. In the time it will take to have my lawyer get me out of custody, you won’t be able to find the things you’re looking for, and by then it might be too late.”

Her skin felt hot. He was right. Her mind worked furiously to make calculations, but even if she could hold him for twenty-four hours, she didn’t know if that would be enough time to track down Luke and Victor, and she wasn’t sure if she was willing to gamble with their lives. “What do you want?” she asked.

“I need a private meeting with Kimberly Conway.”

“What?”

“Your Jane Doe, she—”

“I know who she is,” Josie said. “Why do you need to talk to her?”

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.”

“She’s in the custody of the sheriff. Surely you can pull some strings to visit her in the county jail,” Josie said.

Rowland shook his head. “No, I need to speak to her in complete privacy.”

“Well, Kim Conway is being charged with the murder of Denny Twitch and a bunch of other minor offenses. She will probably also be charged with the murder of Leonard Nance in the next day or so.”

At this, Rowland winced. It happened in the blink of an eye. Josie nearly missed it. She went on, “The DA has already said they’re going to ask that the judge deny bail because she’s a flight risk. I can’t just get her out of custody.”

“Hmmm,” Rowland said. “Well, she must need to be transferred from place to place, surely? What if we met in transit?”

“We can’t just pull over at a Burger King with a prisoner in custody. That’s not how it works.”

“Have you ever stopped for a motorist stranded on the side of the road? Even with a prisoner in custody?”

There he went again, making suggestions and plans but doing it in such a way that should she ever be asked by an investigator or an attorney, she would have to concede that he never outright suggested anything criminal. But the problem was, everything they were discussing was criminal, particularly with respect to Kim. There was no legal scenario in which Josie could drive Kim Conway away from the county jail to meet with Rowland. There was no scenario in which Josie would ever have Kim in her custody again. Once she was transferred to the sheriff, she was out of Josie’s control. If Rowland had asked yesterday, before Conway was moved to central booking, while she was still in Denton’s holding area, Josie might have been able to pull off an off-site meeting between Kim and Rowland, but even that would have been problematic. She was certain that Rowland wasn’t just proposing a meeting with Kim. He wanted to trade. Kim for Victor Derossi. But why?

What the hell was Josie missing? With Dunn dead, the videos Kim had taken in connection with the building collapse meant nothing. Why did he want her?

“Chief?” Rowland said.

“I’m afraid I can’t do it,” she said. “Not without arousing a lot of suspicion.”

“Well, have you ever stopped to assist a stranded motorist while transporting a prisoner?” he pressed.

Even if Josie had access to Kim, she couldn’t trade her. Not even for the baby—or Luke. As much as she disliked her, Kim wasn’t an object—a game piece—to be moved around. Josie hated men who treated people that way, particularly women.

“No,” Josie said. “I haven’t.”

“Well,” Rowland said, his polite smile back in place. “You think about it. We’re due to meet at the police station in an hour. If you’re able to work something out, perhaps you’ll cancel today’s meeting, and we can get in touch at another, more mutually convenient time.”

One of the baristas slid a box of pastries across the counter. “Order for Quinn,” she said loudly, as though Josie and Rowland weren’t the only two people in the place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Josie said, picking up the box.

With a nod, Rowland disappeared.