Save Her Soul (Detective Josie Quinn #9)(29)

He hung up. Josie looked at Noah, who had just hung up with Mettner. “I’ll go,” he said. “Mett’s already on his way there.”

Josie thought about arguing, but she was exhausted. She smiled at him. “I’ll take the next call.”





Thirteen





Noah slipped into bed beside Josie sometime in the middle of the night. Trout, who had taken Noah’s spot in his absence, groaned as Noah nudged him. He stood up and went to Josie’s feet, circling and dropping back down, his furry back soft and warm against her shins. She opened her eyes and could just make out Noah’s form in the dim light cast by the green numbers on their alarm clocks. “How was it?” she asked.

“Sad,” he told her. “The liquor store, the Spur Mobile store, that little clothing boutique, the pharmacy, all cleaned out. Everything gone except for the bookstore. Guess criminals don’t read.”

“That sucks,” Josie replied. “Did you get them all?”

“Five of them,” he told her. “They’ll probably be released in the next two days once they’re arraigned. Most of them were East Bridgers displaced by the flooding.”

There were two bridges in Denton, one in the south and one to the east. The area beneath the eastern bridge had long been a gathering place for the city’s homeless and drug trade.

Josie felt sleep pulling her back under and let her eyes drift closed. Noah touched her cheek. “Josie?”

She opened her eyes once more, blinking to bring him into focus. “Get some sleep,” she told him. “It’s after three. We have to be back at the station in a few hours.”

“I just—” he began, but the sound of Josie’s cell phone trilling stopped them. She rolled toward her nightstand and looked at it. “It’s dispatch,” she said.

Flicking on her lamp, Josie snatched the phone up and swiped answer. “Quinn.”

“Detective Quinn?” said a male voice. “It’s Officer Hiller. Sorry to bother you so late. We’ve got a woman on the line who wants to talk to you directly.”

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “It’s the middle of the night. You couldn’t take a message?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, “I thought you’d want to talk to her. She knew the name of the Hempstead victim.”

Josie sat up. Trout poked his head up from the foot of the bed, his ears perfect steeples. Noah patted the bedcovers next to him and Trout scampered over, settling against Noah’s stomach. Josie asked, “What exactly did she say?”

“She called in and said that she needed to talk to Detective Josie Quinn about the Beverly Urban murder.”

Josie’s hand tightened around the phone. Beverly Urban’s name hadn’t been released to the press, nor had the fact that she was a homicide victim. The only people who knew her name and manner of death were Dr. Feist, members of Josie’s team, and Calvin Plummer and his secretary. It couldn’t be Tammy calling, could it?

“Did she give her name?” Josie asked. She glanced back at Noah, but his eyelids were heavy. He’d be asleep in moments.

“She would only give us the name Alice. That’s it.”

Josie stood up and padded quietly out to the hall and downstairs to the kitchen. “Put her through and text me the number she called from in case we get disconnected.”

“You got it, boss.”

The light over the sink had been left on in case Misty or Harris got up during the night. As she waited to be connected to Alice, Josie looked around, amazed at how clean Misty kept the kitchen. She wanted a drink of water but didn’t want to disturb the orderliness. Instead, she leaned a hip against the counter and waited. There was a delay and then a change in the quality of the silence. Finally, a female voice said, “Hello? Detective Quinn?”

Too old to be Tammy, Josie thought. Unless she was somehow disguising her voice. A smoker, judging by the scratchiness. “This is Josie Quinn. What can I do for you, Alice? You have some information about the body we recovered from under the house on Hempstead?”

Hesitation. Then, “Y-yes. I do.”

“What kind of information?” Josie asked.

“I know what happened to that girl,” said Alice.

Josie listened for any background noise, but there was nothing. “What do you mean?”

“I know she was murdered. I know who did it.”

It wouldn’t be the first time that the department had received a call from someone looking for a bit of attention who claimed to have information about a crime. Josie needed to know that Alice was genuine. “How did Beverly die?”

“I can’t talk to you on the phone about this,” Alice said. “We need to meet.”

Josie said, “Alice, I get a lot of phone calls. A lot of tips. I’m just trying to figure out whether you’re telling the truth or not.”

More hesitation. “She was shot in the head, okay?”

A chill rippled over Josie’s body. “Okay, Alice. I think you’re right. We need to meet.”

“I can meet with you in private. Only you. No one else,” Alice said hurriedly.

“Good,” Josie said. “How about tomorrow at the police station in Denton? Do you know where that is?”