Vanishing Girls (Detective Josie Quinn #1)(54)

“Oh. Well that’s good, then.”

Lara looked Josie up and down, assessing. “You got any money? I sure am hungry.”

“Actually, I don’t. I just spent my last five dollars in the cafeteria.”

“You got any credit cards? They take those.”

She hadn’t wanted to use her card for a meal that only cost a few dollars, but then she remembered the baskets and shelves in front of each food station. She should probably get some snacks for later. She could leave them in her car. “Okay,” she told Lara. “Let’s go.”

The cafeteria was now packed and Josie was grateful. No one paid them any mind at all as Lara greedily loaded up a tray with food: cheeseburger and fries, taco bowl, chef salad, yogurt and three bottles of iced tea. Josie bit back a protest as the cashier rang it all up and she reluctantly handed over her credit card.

Lara ate hungrily, her hood pulled low over her head, shoving food into her mouth like she was in some kind of eating contest.

“Put your hood back down,” Josie hissed. “Having it up draws attention. When’s the last time you ate?”

Hastily, Lara pushed her hoodie down and kept on shoveling food into her mouth. “Few days ago,” she said around a mouthful of food.

Josie waited for Lara to slow down, surprised by how much the skinny woman could put away. Her eyes drifted back to the television on the wall. More news. It would go on for a few hours, refreshing every half hour until the afternoon when the daytime soap operas came on.

“How’s Dirk?” she asked.

Lara shrugged. “He’s shot up. Got a big tube down his throat. Machine breathes for him. How do you think?”

“I’m sorry.”

Another shrug, as if to say, “Whatever.”

If June had been anything like her mother, Josie could see why Solange had found her to be such a challenge. “Lara,” she said. “What was Dirk doing in an SUV full of gang members from Philadelphia?”

“How do you know they were gang members?”

“Tattoos.”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

“Lara. Be straight with me. This is serious. Your brother is fighting for his life.”

Lara looked up at Josie, eyes flashing. “You think I don’t know that? He’s all I got. Him and June.” She tapped a finger against her temple. “And I heard June ain’t really there no more.”

“Then tell me the truth so I can help you.”

Lara gave her another appraising glance and her pinched expression told Josie that she didn’t like what she saw. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. First, I need to know what I’m dealing with. Tell me what you know.”

Lara twisted the cap off one of her iced teas and gulped down half the bottle. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hoodie sleeve, she narrowed her eyes. “I need cigarettes.”

“You can’t get cigarettes in a hospital.”

“No, but you can get them down the road with that credit card.”

“I’m not buying you cigarettes, Lara.”

She chugged down the rest of the iced tea and went to work on the taco bowl, now eating with a prim slowness that made Josie want to scream. She could see why Dirk had fought so hard to get June out of her sphere of control. Josie waited patiently until she had finished and gulped down another half bottle of iced tea. She watched the WYEP coverage of Luke’s shooting play again, followed by a story about Sherri Gosnell. The headline read: “Local Murder Victim Laid to Rest.” The screen cut to the outside of the large Episcopal church on Denton’s west side where people gathered in knots. Six men emerged from its red double doors, faces drawn, wearing suits and carrying Sherri’s coffin. Next the screen cut to the graveside service, zooming in on the man Josie assumed was Sherri’s husband, Nick Gosnell. He was barrel-chested and slightly overweight. Average height, with light-brown hair peppered with gray and parted down the middle. His goatee was also graying. From what she could see, one of his eyes was swollen and badly bruised, as though someone had given him a black eye. Had he gotten into a fight? Gotten drunk, fallen and hit his face? People did crazy things when they were grieving. Remembering the sight of Sherri’s body, Josie was betting he’d gotten drunk and fallen down. His good eye brimmed with tears as he watched his wife being lowered into the ground. Josie felt a wave of sadness engulf her and pushed it away. She needed to focus.

She turned back to Lara. “Six years ago, a woman named Ginger Blackwell was abducted, held for three weeks, and raped by multiple assailants. She was drugged and dumped on the side of the road. The police made a half-assed attempt at investigating the whole thing before they declared it a hoax. I’ve looked at the file; it wasn’t a hoax. Ginger didn’t do it to herself. Today I talked to her and she told me that the last thing she remembers before being taken is talking to one, possibly two women on the side of the road. One was a woman whose car broke down. She looked like a chemo patient. She thinks there was another woman there as well, a younger woman who said her name was Ramona.”

Lara sat back in her seat, folding her arms across her thin chest. The corners of her mouth turned down in a skeptical frown.

“Do you know what the last thing Dirk said to me was? When he was bleeding out in that SUV crashed into the side of a building?”