by Regan, Lisa
“Don’t want to hear it, Fraley. You assist Mettner and Palmer. That’s it.”
Noah didn’t respond, watching silently as Chitwood walked back to his office and slammed the door behind him. Mettner picked up the receiver of his desk phone and started dialing. “I’m going to contact the network in New York, see if I can get in touch with Trinity’s assistant first thing,” he said.
Noah added, “Ask her about Trinity’s dentist, would you? We need those dental records before the close of business today if possible.”
Josie looked at her cell phone. It would be a couple of hours before Shannon, Christian, and Patrick arrived from their hometown of Callowhill. She couldn’t move forward with the investigation—or help Mettner move forward with it—until the ERT had something, or at least until they released some of the contents of Trinity’s car. She thought about making some calls as well, but who else was there to call? Trinity wasn’t married or even dating anyone, to Josie’s knowledge. She didn’t have any friends.
Or did she?
In the two weeks that Trinity had stayed with Josie and Noah, Josie couldn’t remember her speaking to anyone besides their parents, her assistant, and her other coworkers. Josie had never heard her talk about any friends. Trinity had colleagues, contacts and sources, but not friends. When Josie visited her in New York, they were never joined by anyone else for meals or outings. Josie had always just assumed that Trinity wanted time alone, but maybe it was because there was no one else she could invite. When Trinity visited Josie, they were often joined by Detective Gretchen Palmer, Mettner, Josie’s friend Misty, and Josie’s grandmother, Lisette. Even without Trinity staying with them, Josie and Noah’s house was busy and often filled with family, coworkers, and friends.
Who did Trinity talk to besides Josie and Shannon?
A small stab of guilt pierced Josie’s heart. She should know this. Trinity was her twin sister. Sure, they’d only been reunited three years ago, but still, if Josie was the person closest to Trinity, she should know the people Trinity held the closest. Trinity’s words came back to her like little daggers. Was it true that they were never meant to be sisters?
“Boss?” Mettner said.
Josie looked up from her now-darkened phone screen to see Mettner looking at her quizzically. From his desk, Noah stared at her as well, hands frozen over his keyboard.
“What?”
“You okay?” Mettner asked.
“Yeah, sure. Why?”
“Mett was just talking to you,” Noah said. “You were in a trance.”
Josie glanced back and forth between them before addressing Mettner again. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
“Trinity’s assistant texted us the name and number of her dentist. Noah’s working on a warrant for her records right now.” As if on cue, Noah’s fingers lowered to the keyboard and started clicking away.
“That’s great,” Josie choked out.
“Jaime—that’s the assistant’s name—also says she only sent one box, but she doesn’t remember what was in it. She thinks it was some old stuff from a reporter who used to work at the network.”
“Did she know the name of the reporter?’” Josie asked.
“She’ll look through her email for the name. She’s going to check with a few other people at the network to see if Trinity had any contact with them in the last few weeks, and she’ll be here in a few hours.”
“Great. I think. That will blow the lid off this case, though. You know they’re going to do a story on it.”
“We’ll deal with that later,” Mettner said. “It’s not the worst thing for the public to know Trinity is missing. It could generate leads. For now, we’ve got our own work to do.”
He sounded just like her. Josie couldn’t help but smile. “Got it,” she said.
“Was your sister dating anyone?” Mettner asked.
“No. Not that I know of.”
“Did she break up with anyone recently?”
“No,” Josie said. “I don’t think so. She always said she didn’t have time to date. Her career came first.”
Now that Josie thought about it, in all the years she had known Trinity, she’d never heard her talk about dating anyone at all, even casually.
Noah, finished typing up his warrant, stood up from his desk and stretched his arms overhead. Across the room, the ancient ink jet printer whirred to life. Noah retrieved the pages and returned to his desk. He gave Josie an appraising look. “I’ve got to get this signed by a judge, but first I’ll go downstairs and get you some coffee,” he said.
“Thanks,” Josie said.
After Noah left, Mettner went on asking questions, and Josie tried to answer as best she could. However, her lack of knowledge about her own sister was painfully glaring. She was relieved that Mettner kept his eyes on his phone as he tapped away, using his favorite note-taking app to record her answers and any notes of his own for follow-up later.
A hand squeezed her shoulder and Josie looked up to see Detective Gretchen Palmer, her face fixed in a grim look of sympathy. “Fraley just brought me up to speed,” she said.
Josie nodded, loving Gretchen for saying nothing more than that. There was nothing she could say to reassure Josie that they would locate Trinity safe and unharmed. There was only the work, the investigation, and Josie knew that Gretchen would throw her whole self into that, as would Mettner. Gretchen had come to the department four years earlier, hired by Josie when Josie was interim Chief of Police. Before joining Denton PD, Gretchen had been a homicide detective in Philadelphia for fifteen years. She was one of the finest investigators Josie had ever known and had become a good friend over the years.
Gretchen placed a steaming mug of coffee in front of Josie. “Fraley said to give this to you. He went to get his warrant signed.”
“Thanks,” Josie said. “Did you see the photos?”
“Not yet. I just heard it was pretty bad.”
“Creepy as hell,” Josie corrected, taking a long swig of her coffee.
Her desk phone jangled. She snatched it up, barking “Quinn” into the receiver.
“Boss,” said Hummel. “We’re finished.”
“What’ve you got?” Josie asked, ignoring the look Mettner shot her.
There was a moment of hesitation. Then Hummel said, “It’s easier if you come out here to the impound lot and take a look for yourself.”
Twelve
Josie followed Gretchen outside to the municipal parking lot at the back of the police headquarters. The moment the spring air hit their faces, they were crowded by a half dozen reporters, holding out cell phones and recording devices and shouting questions. It had been less than an hour since Mettner contacted Trinity’s network and spoke with her assistant. News traveled lightning fast in the media world.
“Is it true that Trinity Payne was abducted?”
“Who was the last person to speak to Ms. Payne?”
“Is there any chance that Ms. Payne’s disappearance is a ploy for her to get her anchor position back?”
The words were a splash of ice water down Josie’s back. She turned and scanned the reporters until she found the man who had shouted the question. He held out his phone, waiting anxiously for her response. She saw from his press badge that he was from one of Trinity’s network’s competitors. Josie met his eyes. She opened her mouth to respond but felt Gretchen’s hand clamp around her upper arm, wrenching her toward the car.
“No comment,” Gretchen shouted as she hustled Josie away.
The reporters crowded the car the moment they got into it, but Gretchen fired up the engine and expertly maneuvered around them and out of the parking lot. In the passenger’s seat, Josie seethed.
Gretchen said, “Ignore it. They have no details right now so they’re trying to make a story out of nothing. It’s just spin.”
“Spin that’s hugely insulting to my sister,” Josie muttered, staring out the window.
“You have to let it go, boss. When we get to
the impound, I’ll text Mett and let him know he’s got to get a handle on them. This story is only going to spread. By the time we get back, there will be twice as many reporters out there.”
Josie nodded but remained silent for the remainder of the ride. The impound lot was in a sparsely populated area of North Denton along a thin ribbon of road that was bordered by forest and an occasional house. It was gated and guarded by an officer sitting inside a small booth at the entrance. Gretchen flashed her credentials and the gate lurched open. She weaved through two rows of cars until she came to the far back right of the lot where a plain, cinderblock building stood. On the right was a single dark blue door, solid and unwelcoming. To the left were two garage doors, also blue, their windows white laminate so that no one could see through. Hummel’s ERT vehicle sat just outside, and Gretchen pulled in beside it.
The blue door was unlocked. Josie followed Gretchen inside to a small office where Chan sat at a desk, a laptop in front of her, furiously typing. She glanced up and gave the detectives a nod before returning to her work. “Hummel’s inside,” she said.
They moved through the next door which led to a utilitarian room outfitted with aluminum shelving that housed any and all supplies they might need for processing a vehicle as well as a large stainless-steel table which held Trinity’s suitcase and purse. On the wall across from the table was a large window where they could see into the first garage bay. Josie could see Trinity’s Fiat Spider, its doors open. Hummel stood nearby, still in his Tyvek suit, booties, and gloves. Only his skull cap was missing, his red hair sticking out in every direction. He held a clipboard and pen, taking down notes. Gretchen rapped lightly on the window and he turned, waving them in through the door which was only a few feet away from the window.
Josie felt her stomach go into freefall when they entered the chamber. This was real. Trinity was missing—possibly dead—and her beloved convertible had been picked over by Josie’s own Evidence Response Team. She held back a shiver as she stepped toward Hummel.
Gretchen already had her notebook out.
Hummel said, “Don’t worry. It’s all been processed. You don’t need to suit up.”
“What’ve you got?” Gretchen asked.
Hummel looked past her to Josie. “Boss?”
“What is it, Hummel?” Josie said.
He motioned for her to come around to the driver’s side door. “We got prints from the inside and outside of the car. They’ll take some time to be run through AFIS.”
“That’s not why you called me here,” Josie said as she walked up to the open door.
Her heart pounded as she stared at the driver’s side door panel, just above the handle. The interior of Trinity’s Fiat Spider was upholstered in black, so Hummel had used fluorescent fingerprint powder to dust for latent prints. The bright yellow powder had illuminated some fingerprints, but that wasn’t what Hummel wanted her to see.
A hastily scrawled message stretched across the panel. It was one word. A name, actually.
Vanessa.
Her heart thumped so loudly, Josie worried that Gretchen and Hummel could hear it. She put one hand against the side of the car to steady herself. A tremble started in her legs and worked its way upward until her fingers drummed against the car’s cool red metal. She snatched her hand back to her chest, willing her body to settle.
If Hummel noticed her reaction, he didn’t let on. He pointed to the panel. “Fingerprints 101, right? Your fingers leave oil residue. Even if you don’t leave a clear print, if you try to draw something with your finger, it might show up. I didn’t see it until I dusted.”
Trinity had covered enough crime stories to know that it was the moisture from a person’s skin that left fingerprints behind. Someone with exceptionally dry skin wouldn’t leave as crisp and defined a fingerprint as someone with oily or sweaty fingers. Trinity also would have known that the ERT would process the inside of her car, particularly since her keys had been left in the ignition—it made for suspicious circumstances. Before she got out of the car, she had used a fingertip to hastily scrawl the name onto her door panel. Whoever took her wouldn’t have seen it. In fact, no one would ever know it was there unless they used magnetic fingerprint powder or cyanoacrylate fuming to check for prints.
Below the name were some squiggly lines and shapes—almost as though she had attempted to write something else but perhaps hadn’t had time.
Hummel said, “Who’s Vanessa?”
Josie stared at the letters as the thundering of her heart slowed incrementally. “Me,” she replied. “I’m Vanessa.”
“I don’t understand,” Hummel said.
Gretchen stepped up beside Josie, using her phone to snap a few pictures of the door. “That was the boss’s given name when she was born,” she explained to Hummel. “She was kidnapped at three weeks old, remember? Her parents thought she died in a fire but she had actually been taken.”
Hummel grimaced. “Right. Sorry, boss. I forgot. Well, I didn’t forget, I just—”
Josie put up a hand. “It’s okay, Hummel.”
“But you were raised as Josie,” Gretchen said. “Trinity knew you as Josie for years before you found out you were sisters. You never changed your name to Vanessa. Did she call you that in private?”
Josie shook her head. “No. Never.” Vanessa never existed, she almost said.
Hummel used the cap of his pen to scratch his temple. “Then why would she write Vanessa inside the door of her car?”
Again, Josie felt a strange and piercing sense of grief and frustration. They were sisters. Twins. Yet, Josie was astounded by how little she really understood about Trinity. “I have no idea,” she told him.
Gretchen knelt beside the open door, putting her reading glasses on and examining the door panel up close. She pointed to the lines beneath the name. “What do you think this is that she was trying to write underneath?”
“I don’t know,” Hummel said. “It doesn’t look like letters.”
“They almost look like symbols,” Gretchen said.
Josie studied the shapes, but she couldn’t make sense of them either. Regardless, she understood that this was a message, and it was meant for her. “Do you mind if I get in?” she asked Hummel.
“Go for it,” he said. “We’re finished with the car.”
Josie sat in the driver’s seat and put her hands on the wheel, imagining herself in Trinity’s position. “Hummel,” Josie asked. “Did the car start?”
“No. The battery was dead, and the car was out of gas.”
That meant that Trinity had not only been sitting in the car with the keys in the ignition, but she’d turned the car on. She’d probably been about to put the car in drive and pull away when something stopped her. Another vehicle pulling into the driveway, blocking her way? Josie worked through the scenario in her mind. Trinity would have stayed in the car, waiting to see who emerged from the other vehicle. Wouldn’t she? Was she curious? She hadn’t been expecting anyone, since she was leaving. Only a handful of people even knew she was at the cabin. Had she recognized the vehicle? Probably not, Josie thought. Was she afraid? Surely she would have at least been apprehensive when a strange vehicle pulled unexpectedly into the long drive to cabin number six. She was there alone with no one even in shouting distance should the person pulling in mean to harm her. She would have watched the person—or persons—getting out of their car, approaching hers. But she couldn’t have flung open the door to confront them. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to leave Josie the message. Once she was out of the car, she didn’t get back in. Josie was certain of that. Had she been able to get back into the car, she would have taken off, tried to get away, or she would have used her phone. Josie had seen Trinity send off lengthy texts to her assistant in a matter of seconds.
To Hummel, Josie said, “Did you check the phone yet?”
Hummel shook his head. “We got a warrant for its contents, but it will take a few days for us to get into it.”
“Technically, I’m her next of kin. I can give you permission.”
Gretchen said, “Her parents are next of kin, boss.”
“They can give you permission,” Josie said.
Hummel said, “I figured that. Charged it up. Tried to get into it. It’s password-protected.”
“Shit.”
But if Trinity had sent a text to anyone she knew with a cryptic or alarming message, Josie would surely have been notified by now. The message inside the door was for Josie, so it stood to reason that if Trinity had had time to send a text, she would have sent it to Josie. Through the windshield Josie could only see the back wall of the evidence room, which was painted white cinderblock.
In her mind, she visualized the driveway to the cabin again. It sloped slightly downward and the way Trinity’s car was positioned when she found it, there would be little room to maneuver around another vehicle. The person in the other vehicle must have gotten out and approached Trinity. Josie assumed the person who took Trinity had arrived in a vehicle and not on foot—otherwise it would have been far too difficult to control Trinity and also take two document boxes from the scene. He or she would have come to the driver’s side door first. Did Trinity recognize him or her—or them? Was there more than one person? Or did the driver have a gun in his hand? Josie’s mind tried to work through the scenarios. There were no signs that Trinity had fought or tried to run.
Yet, she had known she was in trouble. Once she saw the driver, she knew she had only seconds to do something—anything. She used her fingertip to write the name Vanessa on the inside of the door. “Hummel,” Josie called. “Can you stand in front of the car?”
He nodded and walked over toward the hood of the Fiat, moving back toward the garage door. Josie pulled the door closed and let her own fingertips linger over the fluorescent letters, tracing the letters in the air. She watched Hummel’s face as he slowly walked toward the door. Josie opened it when he reached her. “Could you see what I was doing?”
“Not really. I mean this car is low to the ground and I’m six foot so I could see you were doing something but mostly it looked like you were fumbling to find the handle or something. Of course, we’re on level ground here, not at an angle like at the cabin, but I think on the angle the car was positioned there, it would have been even more difficult for me to see what you were doing—if I could see it at all.”