“Don’t you think we should get that over with at least?”
Josie laughed. “You know me very well.”
“I’ll get the laptop.”
Josie downed more ibuprofen and spent the next hour searching the internet and every database she had access to for Deirdre and Sawyer Hayes. Everything checked out. There was an obituary for Deirdre from the year before. From what Josie could gather, she’d moved the two of them out of Denton shortly after Sawyer was born. Josie wondered what, exactly, Lila had said to Deirdre that had made her feel she had to not just stay out of Lila’s way but leave town altogether? They’d lived for a long time in Williamsport. Sawyer had gone to college at Penn State, then hopped around the state a bit before settling just outside Denton a few years earlier and taking the EMS job in nearby Dalrymple Township.
“There’s nothing here,” Josie told Misty as she placed a plate heaped high with steak and steamed vegetables in front of her.
“You mean there’s nothing suspicious.”
“Right.”
Josie heard the rapid clickety-clack of dog feet on the tile of the foyer. A moment later, Harris hollered excitedly, “Noah!”
A few minutes later, after properly greeting child and dogs, Noah entered the kitchen. He looked around and went straight for the stove to make himself a plate. “Misty,” he said. “Josie and I have been talking, and we’d like you to move in full-time.”
Misty laughed. “You know, my cooking’s not that good. But thank you.”
Around a mouthful of food, Josie said, “Trust me, your cooking is the best.”
Noah sat down at the table with a plate of food and dug in. “Or maybe it’s that Josie’s cooking is just that terrible.”
Josie said, “I’d get mad but he’s actually right about that. Plus, his cooking is only passable.”
Noah chuckled. “And I would get mad about that but it’s true.”
They ate in silence. Misty went in search of Harris so he could join them. Noah put his fork down and regarded Josie. “Are we going to talk about it?”
She said nothing.
“Josie,” he said. He left the questions unspoken. He knew that if he asked her if she was okay, she’d say she was fine. She was always fine. But he wasn’t going to leave it alone. Not until she said something. He never left her alone with anything. Sometimes it was maddening, but she understood that he was trying to tell her something. He was going to be there for her whether she liked it or not.
She said, “I’m still in a little bit of shock.”
“I can imagine,” he said. “Lisette wanted me to tell you that this doesn’t change anything.”
But of course it did, Josie thought. It changes everything, she wanted to shout at him, but she didn’t. What she wanted more than anything was for this conversation to be over. By now, she knew there was only one way to accomplish that. She mustered a smile for Noah and said, “I just need some time, okay?”
He smiled back and nodded. “You got it.”
That night, sleep was even harder to come by than the night before. Her mind was so full, it felt like it might explode. Her thoughts swirled with questions about Lisette and her new grandson, Sawyer, and the Urban case. Beverly, Vera, the WORMM club, the Mayor, Ray. Had Vera really been some kind of upscale drug dealer, peddling painkillers to rich women? What else was the Mayor not telling Josie? What did Ray have to do with any of it and how had Beverly gotten his jacket? Why had Vera hidden all these years if she knew exactly who killed her own child? Who killed her? Was it the same person who killed Beverly? Was all of it drug-related or was there something else in play?
She was up and out of bed before anyone else in the house woke. She left Noah a note and went to work. Surprisingly, Gretchen sat at her desk in the great room, typing away at her keyboard. When Josie plopped into her desk chair, Gretchen pushed a paper coffee cup across to her.
Josie said, “Have I told you how much I treasure our friendship?”
Gretchen chuckled. “One of the guys working the holding cells yesterday left an envelope on your desk.”
Josie found it on top of a pile of paperwork. Her name was on the front. She turned it over and slid a finger under the seal to open it. “How was your first night with Poppy?”
Gretchen put a hand through her hair. “She doesn’t sleep either, so I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Inside the envelope was a blank piece of printer paper. It smelled like cigarette smoke. Josie unfolded it and read it. The handwriting was surprisingly neat.
Jojo: the name is Silas. That’s all I got. – Z
Josie felt something go out of her. Some kind of tension she’d been holding onto for so long, she couldn’t remember when it first started. Maybe when she was a child. She had no idea why Needle had chosen to help her now when there was absolutely nothing in it for him, but the act brought all kinds of feelings to the surface. She pushed them back down and showed Gretchen the note. Within ten minutes, they had a driver’s license photo, rap sheet, and background check on one Silas Murphy, age fifty-five. Although he was much older in his driver’s license photo, it was definitely the same man they had seen in the photo they’d found in Beverly’s possessions, of Vera standing in her kitchen talking with a man.
His employment history showed that he’d worked at several local auto repair shops and from what they could see, he’d gotten married in 2000. They didn’t have divorce records, so it wasn’t clear how long he’d been married or if he was still married, but he was definitely the friend they’d been searching for.
Josie did more searching. “He has never legally purchased a firearm.”
“He wouldn’t be able to,” Gretchen said. “Not with his rap sheet. The prison inmate records show he’s done time for possession on several occasions and—check this out—he has a large tattoo on his back. Under description it says: skull.”
Adrenaline surged through Josie’s veins. “Let’s go find him.”
Forty
Silas Murphy’s apartment was in a six-story building in West Denton. The area was flooded, with a couple of inches of water in the streets, but the level wasn’t high enough to reach people’s homes. Now that the rain had stopped, patrol units had let traffic back into the area. Josie parked out front of Silas’s building. It had seen better days. Its brick face crumbled in several areas. Where the brick had worn away near the windows, birds had burrowed inside the walls. A set of double glass doors were centered on the first floor of the building. One of them had been broken and boarded up with plywood and duct tape. Inside was a small room filled with dented metal mailboxes, each one bearing an apartment number. Silas’s number was 612, which meant he was on the sixth floor.
Gretchen looked around. “There’s no elevator.”
Josie shook her head. “Figures.”
Josie led the way, trudging up six flights of stairs, trying to ignore the pain in her leg. She was glad for all the early morning jogs she, Noah, and Trout took. Even though she was in good shape, she felt beads of perspiration along her hairline. The stagnant air in the stairwell was hot and cloying. By the time they reached the sixth floor, sweat ran down the sides of Gretchen’s face. The hallway was at least twenty degrees cooler. Josie and Gretchen took a moment to suck in the air before they searched out Apartment 612.