Vanishing Girls

by Lisa Regan

  “I know,” Josie said. “Look, something has come up and I can’t get over there tomorrow. Please, talk to her though. Tell her to call me.”

  “Of course.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The next morning Josie set out for Greensburg. GPS took her right to the park that Denise Poole had specified and Josie parked across the street, stretching her arms over her head before getting out of the car. She walked slowly toward the park, glancing furtively at the text Luke had sent earlier. “She said she’ll wear a red scarf, he had written.

  The weather was warmer that day, inching upward of fifty-five degrees, and the park was busy with joggers and mothers pushing strollers and chasing toddlers around the playground area. There were benches on the periphery and Josie spotted Denise quickly. She sat alone, a Kindle in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other and a red knitted scarf tied loosely around her shoulders. She had dark hair, pulled back into an orderly bun, and was considerably bigger than Josie. Not fatter, just larger. A big-boned woman. But she was attractive, in an austere way, and stylishly dressed.

  Josie sat beside her. “Miss Poole?”

  The woman’s eyes flicked from her Kindle to Josie’s face with a hesitant smile. Josie noticed her eyes were light brown. “You must be Josie.”

  She put her coffee down and extended a hand, which Josie shook.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Josie said.

  Denise motioned toward Josie’s hand. “Nice ring. Luke didn’t tell me you were engaged.”

  Josie stared down at the ring. Perhaps she should have removed it before coming to see Luke’s ex-girlfriend. But why should she hide the engagement? Still, it made the moment slightly awkward. “Oh, yeah, thanks.”

  Denise looked back at her Kindle long enough to power it down. As she did, she muttered, “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “What’s that?”

  When Denise looked back up at her, her smile was stiff and pained. Her voice was laced with an almost patronizing sympathy. “He didn’t tell you, did he?”

  Josie said nothing.

  “We were engaged,” Denise said. “Funny that he sent you here to meet me but left that little part out. Listen, you seem really nice, and I know you’re not here to discuss Luke, but you should know, he’s a serial fiancé. He likes to be engaged. He likes the newness. Then it gets old, he loses interest, and moves on.”

  Engaged? Luke had called Denise his girlfriend. He’d never said anything about being engaged. Josie cleared her throat. “I’m only here for the Blackwell materials.”

  Denise reached over and patted her arm. “Of course. Must be important for you to ask Luke to call me.”

  Josie held her gaze. “I don’t know if it’s important or not. I haven’t seen it yet.”

  Denise reached into her back pocket and pulled out a folded envelope, which she handed to Josie. “Then why did you need it?”

  Josie shrugged. “I might not. If there is something important there, I’ll know it when I see it. That’s why I asked to see whatever you’ve got.”

  “I googled her. Ginger Blackwell.”

  “Yeah, so did I.”

  “Why would the police say that Ginger Blackwell’s case was a hoax when the rape kit turned up evidence of three different types of semen?”

  Jackpot. Josie resisted the urge to tear open the envelope in front of Poole. She said, “They believed the sex was consensual.”

  “Consensual sex with three different men at the same time?”

  Josie shrugged. “Well, you know—desperate, lonely women will do just about anything for attention, or so I hear.”

  Denise frowned. “I guess there are women out there who would do that sort of thing.”

  Josie thanked her again and stood to leave.

  “They weren’t run through the state database,” Denise said.

  Josie said, “What do you mean?”

  Standing, Josie could see that Denise was even taller than she had initially thought. Probably approaching six feet. She tried to picture Luke proposing to this woman or even locked in a kiss, but she just couldn’t. Or maybe she didn’t want to. Why hadn’t he told Josie that Denise had been his fiancée? More importantly, why had Denise made Josie drive four hours to meet in person to tell her something she could have told her over the phone and give her test results she could have faxed or mailed? What kind of relationship did they still have that Luke only needed to make one phone call? Josie wasn’t the jealous type, but the entire thing with Denise was strange, even by her standards.

  “They collected the samples but never checked to see if they matched anyone already in the database. Any database. State or federal. They collected them but did nothing with them.”

  Josie stared at her.

  Denise gave her another smile but it seemed strained, this time with a tinge of nervousness. “Why wouldn’t they run them?”

  “Because the whole thing was ruled a hoax,” Josie said. “No point in wasting the state’s resources on a crazy woman, right?”

  Still, the fact that the results of the rape kit hadn’t been checked against any database was both useful and not surprising. Something definitely wasn’t right.

  “You don’t believe that. You wouldn’t be here if you bought into the hoax idea. What’s really going on?”

  Josie raised a brow. “What?”

  Denise crossed her arms over her chest. “You asked Luke to call me about getting these DNA results. He asked me to give these to you even though we could both get fired. Why?”

  Josie couldn’t answer that question, nor could she deny the feeling of dread building up inside her the more she found out about Ginger Blackwell’s case and the shitty investigation following her recovery. Josie’s off-the-books investigation was about to get them all into very deep water. She just hoped it would be worth the swim.

  Josie sighed and decided to change tack. “There’s a teenage girl missing in Denton,” she told Denise. “Her name is Isabelle Coleman. I thought there might be a connection to Ginger’s case.”

  Denise’s brow crinkled. “Is there?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, if there is, I haven’t found it yet.”

  “Why didn’t you just make the request through your department?”

  Josie’s cheeks colored. “I—I couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m on my chief’s shit list, and this,”—she waved the manila envelope in the air—“is a wild-goose chase. I figured if I found something useful I could get back in his good graces, and if I didn’t, no harm, no foul.”

  “I see,” Denise said in a tone that implied she didn’t see at all. But if Denise had been so worried about Josie’s motivations or about getting fired, then she would not have agreed—no, insisted—on this meeting.

  “Listen,” Josie said. “I really appreciate your helping me out, but I have to get home.”

  Denise narrowed her eyes. “Sure,” she said, gathering her things. “I have to get back to work.”

  Josie turned and walked away from her. She was halfway to her car when Denise called after her, “Tell Luke I’ll see him when I come to get the painting.”

  Josie stopped in her tracks and turned.

  Denise gave her a breezy smile. “He’ll know what I mean.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Driving home, Josie kept replaying the scene in the park in her head. What the hell painting was Denise talking about? Had Luke really made plans to see her again? Was he still harboring feelings for her? Josie dialed his number but it went right to voicemail. “It’s me,” she said tersely. “I’m on my way home. Ex-fiancée? Really? Pretty asshole move, sending me in there blind. Call me.”

  That done, she let her mind wander to the discovery that the DNA samples from Ginger Blackwell’s rape kit had never been run through any database. Her instincts were right about the Blackwell case, despite what she’d told Denise about there being no reason for police to run them if they thought her case w
as a hoax. They’d secured the DNA samples the day of Ginger’s recovery. They should have been run through the state and federal databases immediately after that. Instead, someone had held on to them long enough for her case to be dismissed, allowing the entire thing to be brushed under the carpet.

  Her vehicle emitted a ding, letting her know she was low on gas. She watched the signs on the side of the interstate fly by until she saw a sign for gas at the next exit. Inside the minimarket attached to the gas station, she found the ATM and tried to withdraw money for gas and some coffee. Insufficient funds, it blinked back at her. She tried again. The machine must be broken.

  In an empty stall inside the restroom, she pulled up the banking app on her phone to check her actual balance. Her paycheck came by direct deposit every two weeks, and her latest check should have been deposited that morning. But the app agreed with the ATM. No deposit had been made. She had no money. With a growl, she kicked the stall door, rattling it in its frame.

  Outside, she dialed Ray’s number and, for once, he answered right away. “Jo,” he said, his tone telling her instantly that he had been expecting her call. A slow panic started in the pit of her stomach.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I know that my paycheck didn’t come in. I’m… a couple hours away. I stopped for gas and just found out I have no money. What the hell is going on, Ray?”

  “Why are you a couple of hours away?”

  “Ray.”

  “The chief put you on unpaid suspension as of this morning.”

  “What?” she said so loudly it drew looks from other patrons moving in and out of the minimarket. She lowered her voice. “Why? He didn’t even tell me. There are procedures. Ray, what the fuck?”

  “It’s because of what you said to Trinity Payne. About Rockview.”

  The panic rose to her chest and made her heart skip, giving her too many beats in too short a space. All of her savings had gone into her house, she had been living paycheck to paycheck for months now. She had a couple of credit cards, but how long could she live off them? She couldn’t put her utility bills on her cards. “I didn’t talk to Trinity Payne about Rockview. What are you talking about?”

  “You haven’t watched the news in the last twenty-four hours?”

  “No, I haven’t. What did she say, Ray? What did she say I said?”

  He sighed. “I’ll send you the link to the news report.”

  “Just tell me.”

  “That you confirmed that Spencer killed Sherri Gosnell with a fork and that there was a lot of blood.”

  Tha-thump went her heart. Tha-tha-tha-tha-thump. “Oh my God. Ray, you have to talk to the chief. I never said those things. Well, I said the thing about the blood, but I never confirmed the thing about the fork. Not explicitly. And none of it was on the record.”

  “What were you doing talking to Trinity Payne anyway?”

  “I wasn’t—I mean, not really. She came by my house. She’s been harassing me since I got suspended. She wanted to know about Rockview, but Ray, I swear I didn’t tell her anything.”

  “Listen, I can lend you money if you need—”

  “I don’t need money, Ray,” she snapped. “I need my fucking job back. How can he do this? He didn’t even tell me. He didn’t even give me a chance to defend myself. I’m coming there. I’ll be there in two hours.”

  “Jo, don’t.”

  “He’s not getting away with this.”

  “He told you to keep your head down, and almost the next day Trinity Payne is dropping your name on television.”

  Her voice was a full-blown shout. “I didn’t tell her anything!”

  Ray’s voice was sad. “The damage is done, Jo. Coming here to confront Grizz is only going to make things worse. Two hours? Where the hell are you?”

  “None of your damn business. I’ll see you soon.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Her next call was to Trinity Payne, who picked up on the third ring with the words, “Did you talk to Ginger Blackwell?”

  Josie could hardly get the words out. “You fucking bitch. How could you?” she spat.

  Silence. Which meant she knew she was in the wrong.

  Squeezing her cell phone so hard her fingers ached, Josie glared back at the people passing in and out of the minimarket who stopped to stare at her. “I know you heard me. How could you? You know what I said about Rockview was off the record.”

  “You said there was no record.”

  “You know damn well what I told you was in confidence. I never even confirmed there was a fork. How could you use that? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  Her tone was breezy. “Oh, please. Like anyone cares. So, I used a line or two from what you told me, and even then it wasn’t very interesting. My producer didn’t even want to run it.”

  “My chief cares. He put me on suspension without pay. Thanks to you, I can’t even put gas in my car.”

  “I thought you were married.”

  The anger exploded in a flash of blinding light. For a moment, she couldn’t take in any air. “I’m separated,” she said through gritted teeth. “I pay my own way, and now I’m broke and jobless because you had to have your story. You are a manipulative, lying bitch, and unless you want me to rearrange those perfect television cheekbones of yours, you better stay the fuck out of my way. And that exclusive I promised you? Over my dead body.”

  She hung up before Trinity could say another word. Using her credit card, she bought enough gas to get her home. She didn’t dare attempt coffee. Besides, her outrage was burning a hole straight through her stomach. She seethed the entire drive home, her hands cramping around the steering wheel as her brain furiously calculated how she was going to pay to live in the weeks to come. She could keep getting gas and food with her credit card, but she couldn’t pay her bills. Or her mortgage.

  Her beautiful house. Her refuge. She could go without utilities, she decided. She’d take whatever she would normally put toward gas, electric, and water and save her house. After that, she had no idea how she would survive. And no—no way was she asking anyone for money. Her grandmother had nothing to give, and Luke had given her enough already.

  She was so consumed with thoughts of how she would make ends meet that she nearly missed her exit. As she pulled into the police department parking lot, she scanned the personal vehicles but didn’t see the chief’s Jeep. Of course it wasn’t there. Ray would have told him she was coming and he knew better than to deal with her head-on.

  She stormed inside anyway to find the place like a ghost town. Only Noah Fraley sat at his desk, a few others floating in and out of the common room on the second floor. Ray was nowhere to be seen. The door to the chief’s office was closed—silent and impenetrable.

  Striding up to Noah’s desk, she put her hands on her hips and glared down at him. “Where’s the chief?”

  He stared back at her, surprised, his cheeks pinking. “He’s out with everyone else on the Coleman case. Some lady called and said she thought she saw a blond girl walking down the side of the road out on Old Gilbert.”

  Josie raised a brow. She knew the road he was talking about. It wasn’t far from Denton’s Catholic high school. A lot of students used that rural road when they cut school to get to the strip mall a mile or so away.

  “When’s he due back?”

  Noah shrugged. “Don’t know. Guess it depends on whether the lead checks out, or not.” He waited a long moment to see if she had any more questions. Then he looked at the chief’s door as though it were the man himself, the side of his mouth hitched up in a pained expression. “Between you and me, the chief’s being a real dick. Listen, if you need help, like with paying bills or whatever, I can lend you money. At least till the chief gets the stick out of his ass and puts you back on the payroll.”

  Had it been any other person offering to help her, Josie might have been insulted. Even the thought of Ray offering to help
her with money made her hands sweat. But coming from Noah, the offer was not at all uncomfortable. She still wasn’t going to accept it, of course, but she was grateful for it.

  “Thank you.”

  Noah shrugged as though it was no big deal. “Want me to call you when he gets back? He’s been sleeping here most nights. You could probably catch him.”

  But her rage had dissipated for the moment, placated by Noah’s kindness. She didn’t have the energy to keep it up until the chief got back. Maybe rage wasn’t the best approach anyway. Maybe in the morning she would be more clear-headed, less prone to flip and say something that would get her fired for good. “No,” Josie said. “I’ll come back tomorrow.” It can wait, she thought. “But thank you.”

  Noah’s gaze floated back to his computer screen where Josie could see that he’d been logging in phone tips in the Isabelle Coleman case. There weren’t many. “Sure thing,” he said.

  “Hey, Noah.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did they move June Spencer yet?”

  He met her eyes once more. For the first time in the years she had known him, she realized he had tiny flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “No,” he said. “Supposedly there’s nowhere to move her to. The nearest psych unit is an hour away and they don’t have any beds. The chief is trying to find a place for her at a facility in Philadelphia. But she hasn’t been arraigned yet. She’s down in holding till the DA decides what to do with her.”

  “I’ve never known the DA to move this slowly. She killed a woman with a fork, for God’s sake! Why haven’t they charged her yet?”

  Another shrug—one that said “it’s not my job to make these decisions”—and he went back to his computer screen.

  “Let me know how the Coleman lead turns out,” she said as she was leaving.

  “No need,” he called after her. “If it’s her, you’ll see it on TV.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  It was nearly dark when she got home. She went straight upstairs without turning on any lights and thought about her water bill as she poured herself a hot bath. The accident at the Stop and Go seemed like it had happened years ago, but it had been less than a week and all the driving still made her back hurt. Before she lowered her aching body into the water, she checked her phone for a call from Lisette. Nothing, and straight to voicemail when she tried again. She’d have to head over to Rockview first thing in the morning.