The Bones She Buried: A completely gripping, heart-stopping crime thriller(15)

Grady’s face colored, and he looked down at his uneaten turkey sandwich. Josie said, “Well, I don’t think it’s true that no one cares about the weather.” She turned to Theo. “Is it true that you have massive dust storms in Arizona? What are they called?”

“Really?” Laura snapped. “We’re going to talk about the weather right now?”

Grady said, “Laura, please.”

Josie opened her mouth to reply but Noah spoke instead. “It was your idea to come to lunch. We’re in public. We can make an effort to be civil to one another. Mom would want it that way.”

Theo cleared his throat and gave Josie a pained smile, but she could see the lines around his hazel eyes loosen with relief. “They’re called haboobs,” he said.

Ignoring Laura’s icy glare Josie engaged him, “I’ve only seen videos of them on the news. They look terrifying. Do you get many where you live?”

She was aware in her periphery of the clink of silverware against plates and of Noah picking up his coffee to sip it.

Theo said, “The first time I saw one, I thought I was in real trouble.” He laughed. “Not something a Pennsylvania boy is prepared for.”

They made small talk during the rest of lunch with only Grady joining in. Still, when the check came, most of the food they’d ordered remained on their plates. When the waitress asked if they would like takeout boxes, they all refused. Grady paid for the meal and they left in silence.

Back at Noah’s house after lunch, Josie was tasked with going back to Colette’s to bring over any photo albums she could find there. The job of putting together family photographs for a slide show for the funeral services was the only small thing that seemed to lift the Fraley children out of their grief—if only temporarily—particularly after Theo found a bottle of wine in Noah’s pantry. Josie was heartened to see Noah smile at many of the memories from their shared childhood. Josie ordered pizza for dinner and afterward, Noah even kissed her when she left to return to her own home for a change of clothes. Josie’s overnight bag was packed by the time Gretchen called her.

“I’m really sorry about Mrs. Fraley,” Gretchen said. “Please give Noah my condolences.”

“Thanks, I will,” Josie said. “Any chance you’re calling me because Chitwood let you off the desk?”

Gretchen gave a short dry laugh. “No chance. But I’ve been helping Mettner out with everything I can. As long as my ass doesn’t leave this chair, Chitwood’s fine with it. I know Noah needs you right now, and I wouldn’t normally ask, but at the moment you’re our unofficial family liaison.”

“What’ve you got?” Josie asked, relieved that Mettner was delegating what he could to Gretchen.

“Some things I’d like you to have a look at, see if you can make sense of them and then maybe ask the family about. You have time to come by the station?” Gretchen asked.

“You accessed the flash drive?” Josie asked.

“Yes, we got the warrant. But I can’t tell what the hell any of this is—it looks like a lot of old court documents, even a bank statement, and I don’t see the name Pratt in any of these records. Did Colette work in the court system or for a bank?”

“No,” Josie replied. “She worked at a quarry. She was in the office—a secretary, I believe. She retired a few years ago. How far back do the documents go?”

“At least fifteen years,” Gretchen said. “It’s easier if I show you.”

Josie glanced at her bedside clock. She was certain the Fraleys would be reminiscing and picking through their family photos well into the night. She could spare some time to meet with Gretchen.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Denton’s police headquarters was housed in an old, historic three-story building that almost looked like a castle. It was huge and gray, with ornate molding over its many double-casement arched windows and an old bell tower at one corner. It used to be the town hall but had been converted to the police station sixty-five years ago. Josie parked in the municipal lot and made her way through the back door where the holding area was on the ground floor and up to the second floor where the great room was located. It was a large open area cluttered with desks. Josie’s, Noah’s and Gretchen’s desks formed a T in the center of the room. Gretchen already had the PDF files pulled up on her desktop computer. Josie pulled her chair over beside Gretchen’s and began scrolling.

“These are sealed court documents,” Josie noted. “They’re criminal complaints against juveniles.”

“Right,” Gretchen said. “From what I can see, these documents pertain to three different kids—two boys and a girl—between the ages of fourteen and sixteen.”

Josie’s eyes skimmed the complaints. “Trespassing, shoplifting, vandalism. None of these are serious offenses. They’d get slaps on the wrists, if that. I’d be surprised if any of these even made it to court. Even a public defender could plead these down to fines or get them off for first-time offenses. These complaints are from 2005. That was thirteen years ago. Did you look these kids up?”

“Yeah, I didn’t get much beyond current addresses, but if you keep scrolling you’ll see each of them was sentenced to anywhere between six to twenty-four months in a juvenile detention center on the other side of Alcott County,” Gretchen said.