Find Her Alive

by Regan, Lisa

  Josie took a deep breath. “If you know what I’m trying to do, then you know I’m going to need to verify your identity before I give out any information.”

  His tone was one of barely controlled rage. “My SAC is Erin Bacine.”

  “Give me a minute,” Josie said. “In the meantime, turn on the news.”

  She put the phone on mute and set it on her desk. It took fifteen minutes to confirm with Drake’s Special Agent in Charge in the FBI New York field office that he was, indeed, who he claimed to be. When she picked up Trinity’s phone again, unmuted it, and said hello, Drake answered, “I saw the news. Text me the address of your station there. I’ll be there later tonight.”

  “Agent Nally,” Josie said. “I really need you to answer some—”

  “I know,” he said. “You’ll have a chance to ask your questions, but this is something we need to discuss in person. I’m on my way.”

  Then he hung up.

  Twenty-Two

  Josie stared at the phone for a long moment after Drake disconnected. He wasn’t just coming to the station house because he had been in some kind of relationship with Trinity. This was something else altogether. She checked the time on her phone. It was after eight in the evening and he was driving straight to Denton. “This is something we need to discuss in person,” had never sounded so ominous. She updated Mettner and Gretchen. Then, using Trinity’s phone, she texted Drake the address of Denton police headquarters. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s just me,” Noah said.

  Josie looked up at him and tried to smile.

  “Lisette’s downstairs in the conference room with Shannon and Christian. Your brother went back to his dorm room.”

  Josie stood. “Thank you. I’ll go see her.”

  “You might want to wait,” Noah said. “Mett, Gretchen? Trinity’s assistant just arrived. She’s down in the lobby. I told Sergeant Lamay to put her in interview room one.”

  The two detectives stood, Gretchen grabbing her notepad and pen and Mettner his phone. “You guys want to watch on the CCTV?” Mettner asked. “I don’t want all four of us in there. She’s not a suspect, we just need to ask her some questions. Less is more in this case, I think.”

  Noah gave him the thumbs-up. He placed a palm on Josie’s back and they followed their colleagues down the hall, stepping into the small anteroom next to interview room one where a large television screen showed a young woman with long blonde hair, smartly dressed in skinny jeans, knee-high leather boots, and a matching brown cashmere wrap sweater. She had perched on the edge of the table inside the room, her head bent to her phone, manicured fingers tapping away at its screen. Josie had only met her once, a year earlier, and she had been far too hungover to retain any details about the woman other than that she was probably in her twenties and that Trinity likely overworked her. At the time, Josie had been following a lead on a homicide case, had met up with her ex-fiancé and gotten drunk. Trinity had driven deep into the mountains to get Josie back, bringing her assistant along to drive Josie’s vehicle back to Denton.

  Gretchen and Mettner stepped inside the interview room and the woman strode confidently toward them, extending the hand not holding her phone toward Gretchen first and then Mettner. “Jaime Pestrak,” she said. “The other officer told you I’m Ms. Payne’s assistant, right?”

  “He did,” Mettner said. “Thank you for coming. Please, have a seat.”

  He made introductions for himself and Gretchen and the three of them sat at the table. Jaime kept her phone on the tabletop, occasionally responding to notifications as Mettner took her through a number of questions.

  “How long have you worked for Trinity—Ms. Payne?”

  “Three years.”

  “Is she the only person you work with at the network?” Gretchen asked. “Or are you assistant to some of the other anchors?”

  Jaime lifted her long blonde locks from her shoulders and fluffed them. “Just Trinity.”

  “When is the last time you were in contact with her?” Mettner asked.

  They had already established the last calls and texts between Trinity and her assistant from Trinity’s phone, but Mettner was covering every base. “It was like a month ago. She emailed me. By the way, I found the name of the reporter whose stuff she asked me to ship to her. Codie Lash. She used to have Trinity’s job.”

  Gretchen asked, “Did Trinity replace her?”

  Jaime gave her phone a quick tap and swipe. “No. Codie Lash was before her time. Besides, she was murdered.”

  In the CCTV room, Josie and Noah looked at one another. Josie took out her phone and Googled ‘Codie Lash anchor’. Pictures of a woman in her forties with short brown hair and a thousand-watt smile filled the screen. Beneath was a long list of headlines, all of them reporting the same thing:

  Award-winning Journalist Codie Lash Murdered on Her Way to Charity Gala.

  Josie clicked on the first link and quickly skimmed the article while Mettner and Gretchen continued asking Jaime questions. There was a grainy black and white video of Codie and a man being confronted by another man in a hoodie on a sidewalk. It looked as though a surveillance camera from across the street had captured the incident. Josie squinted at her screen, but the attacker’s face wasn’t visible, and the video cut off before any physical contact between the mugger and the Lash couple took place.

  “How was she murdered?” Mettner asked. “Do you know?”

  “I’m not sure. I really didn’t know anything about her except what I just told you.”

  According to the news article Josie had clicked on, Lash, along with her husband, had been killed during a mugging in New York City six years earlier. Jaime had probably still been in high school. No wonder she didn’t remember or even care to know the details.

  Jaime continued, “Trinity asked me to see if any of her personal effects were still around at the news station. It took some digging, but I found a box of stuff from when they cleaned out her office after she died. Apparently, no one came to claim her things and whoever worked with her back then couldn’t bring themselves to throw her stuff away, so it was just in storage in the closet of one of the dressing rooms.”

  “Trinity asked you to send her that box?” Mettner confirmed.

  “Yeah. I don’t know why, though. I didn’t ask. She probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. She was always afraid of getting scooped if she was onto something she thought might be big. Even after she became anchor, she was like that.”

  “Do you remember what was in the box?” Gretchen asked.

  “Just a bunch of old stuff. Some awards she won, a sweater, some of her old notes, some hair stuff, a pair of shoes. Random stuff.”

  “Besides notes, were there any documents of any kind? Any photos?”

  Jaime shook her head. “I don’t think so. Oh, well, there was a picture of her and her husband in a frame. I mean, I guess it was her husband. I’m not really sure.”

  “You sent the whole box to her?” Mettner said. “There wasn’t anything in particular that she was looking for?”

  “She never said,” Jaime replied. “She just wanted whatever I could find.”

  “Do you have any ideas of your own about what she might have wanted with Codie Lash’s old stuff?” Mettner asked.

  Again, Jaime’s attention was diverted to her phone. Tap, tap, tap, scroll, tap. Then she turned back to Mettner and Gretchen. “What does Trinity ever want with anything? A story. She’s all about stories. Even now with the anchor position—I mean she’s the co-host, she doesn’t really have to chase stories, but it’s like she’s obsessed. Like she’s always afraid they’re going to take it away from her. Well, I guess they are now.”

  “Because of what she said about that college kid?” Gretchen probed.

  “Yeah, and because the network is trying to get Mila Kates. You know who she is, right?”

  They knew because Josie had told them. Nodding, Mettner said, “Trinity was working on a
story about Codie Lash? If there were awards in her personal effects and she used to be co-host of the morning show, she must have been pretty accomplished.”

  Gretchen added, “I remember her. She was very successful and well-loved. It was pretty tragic when she was killed.”

  Mettner said, “Was Trinity doing a story on her life, or on her death?”

  Jaime shrugged. “I don’t know. Like I said, she probably wouldn’t have told me anyway. She’s a good boss, but she’s really nuts about her stories.”

  Gretchen tapped her chin with the cap of her pen, a small frown on her face. “She didn’t trust you? Her own assistant?”

  Jaime rolled her eyes. “She didn’t trust anyone! She probably trusted me most of all, but not enough to let me in on whatever she was working on at any given time. She even had this stupid code she wrote in that only she could understand so that if someone did see her notes, they’d have no idea what they said.”

  “Secret code?” Mettner asked. “Did it look like random lines and squiggles by any chance?”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  Josie stood, ready to race into the interview room, but Noah put a hand on her forearm. “They’ll show her the photo,” he said.

  On the screen, Gretchen pulled her cell phone out, put her reading glasses on, and found the photo of the inside of Trinity’s door. She turned it toward Jaime. “Look under the name. Like that?”

  Jaime peered at the photo, lips turned downward. “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Do you know what that says?” Mettner asked her.

  “The code? No. I never knew what the hell she was writing when she used that. I used to tease her that she was writing in hieroglyphs. It was like some kind of shorthand or something.”

  “Something she made up herself?” Gretchen asked.

  “I don’t know, but knowing Trinity, probably. Wait, was that from inside her car?”

  “Yes,” Mettner said. “When our Evidence Response Team used the fluorescent magnetic powder to lift latent fingerprints, they found this.”

  Jaime pointed to the photo. “You know Vanessa is her sister, right? Well, her real name is Josie but when they were babies, their parents named her Vanessa.”

  “We’re aware,” Mettner said.

  “Is Josie here?”

  Gretchen turned and looked at the camera, nodding subtly. In seconds, Josie was inside the room, standing before Jaime.

  “Hey,” Jaime said. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

  “Thanks, I think,” Josie said. “Jaime, how long was Trinity using her secret code to take notes?”

  “As long as I’ve known her.”

  Josie took out her phone and pulled up the photo of Nicci Webb. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  “No, I’m sorry. I don’t. Who is she?”

  “Her name is Nicci Webb. Does that name sound familiar?”

  “No,” Jaime answered. “What does she have to do with Trinity’s disappearance?”

  Josie ignored the question and asked another of her own. “Did Trinity ever talk about someone called Drake?”

  “The FBI agent? She didn’t talk about him much, but I know they were hot and heavy for a while.”

  “How do you know that?” Mettner asked.

  Another eye-roll. “I’m her assistant, remember? I have access to almost everything in her life.”

  “Does Trinity have any friends who might know what she was working on?” Gretchen asked.

  “Friends? Trinity didn’t have time for friends. You were either family, a coworker, or a source.”

  Josie placed a palm on the table and leaned in toward Jaime. “Besides the Codie Lash materials, did Trinity ask you for anything else since she came here?”

  “No.”

  “She had another box with her. We think it held documents. Do you have any idea what they might have been?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “She said she was working on some huge story. Did she talk to you about that?”

  “No, but she’s been pretty out of contact with me since the network banished her. Like I said, she only contacted me to ask me to get her the Codie Lash stuff.”

  Gretchen said, “Jaime, did Trinity have a stalker?”

  “None that I know of.”

  “We believe someone took Trinity,” Mettner said. “We also believe that whoever that person was also took the box of Codie Lash’s possessions as well as the other box that Trinity had with her. Do you have any idea who might have abducted her? Any idea who would be interested in what she was working on?”

  Jaime’s eyes diverted to her phone. Tap, tap, tap. Scroll, scroll, tap. A sigh. “I have no idea. Maybe she didn’t tell you, but she was about to lose her job. Hayden told me she was out. I don’t know why anyone would even care what she was working on.”

  “You’ve been very helpful, Ms. Pestrak,” Mettner said. “We appreciate your coming all the way out here to speak with us especially this late at night.”

  “I’ll be staying at the Eudora Hotel if you need me. You have my number,” Jaime replied.

  “Why did you come?” Josie blurted out.

  Gretchen said, “Detective Quinn.”

  Jaime stared at Josie, confusion drawing a vertical line between her eyebrows. “Trinity’s my boss. I thought I should be here. She might need me when you guys find her.”

  “But you just said she was out of a job. If that’s the case, she wouldn’t need you anymore, would she?” Josie said.

  “She’ll get another job, no problem,” Jaime said. “She’s really talented and driven as hell. I’ve met Mila Kates, you know. She’s kind of an asshole, and she’s not nearly as smart as Trinity.”

  Gretchen, perhaps picking up on the discomfort that Josie felt with the young woman, who hadn’t yet shown any concern for Trinity’s well-being, said to Jaime, “Trinity was abducted. Aren’t you worried about her?”

  Jaime looked past Gretchen and locked eyes with Josie. “You probably think because she’s just a news anchor, she’s not as tough as you, but she’s just as badass as you are. The person dumb enough to kidnap her is the one I’d worry about.”

  Twenty-Three

  In the stairwell, Josie told Noah, “Trinity’s tough, no doubt, but she can’t fight. Maybe if she took off one of her stilettos and used it to stab her attacker in the eye, but other than that, I’m not sure Jaime’s technically correct.”

  Noah grimaced. “That’s a nice visual. Thanks for that. Jaime was right about one thing: Trinity is smart. Any way she can find to stay alive, she’s going to do it.”

  They emerged onto the first floor and headed toward the conference room. Inside stood Lisette Matson, leaning heavily on her walker as she spoke with Shannon and Christian. She turned as they entered, jerked her walker around and moved over toward Josie, nudging Noah out of her way. Her soft gray curls bounced as she moved, and her blue eyes gleamed as she smiled at Josie. She reached out a gnarled hand and Josie took it.

  “Thank you for coming,” Josie said softly.

  “It’s better than sitting around with all those old blue rinses at Rockview,” Lisette said.

  Josie couldn’t help but laugh. “Gram, I’m pretty sure you’re one of the oldest in that place.”

  “Mentally, I’m still in my twenties, dear.” Lisette knew better than to ask Josie how she was holding up or to offer too much comfort. Lisette knew Josie better than anyone in the world. She knew that what Josie valued most in that moment was to maintain her focus so she could best help her team locate Trinity. “I hear you’ve got half decent coffee here,” Lisette added. “Why don’t you show me where?”

  Josie managed a small smile for her grandmother. “Come on,” she said. “The break room is just down the hall. Noah can bring Shannon and Christian up to speed on what we just found out from Trinity’s assistant.”

  She shuffled along beside Lisette until they came to the break room which was also a functioning kitchen complete with a si
nk, refrigerator, several appliances, and a long table surrounded by several chairs. It was empty but Josie smelled freshly brewed coffee before they crossed the threshold. Lisette seated herself at the table while Josie prepared their drinks.

  She sat across from her grandmother, pushing a mug toward her. Lisette said, “This shows real growth, you know.”

  “What’s that?” Josie asked, sipping from her own mug.

  “That you sent Noah to get me. That you wanted me here for moral support. Usually when there’s some kind of incident, I’m the last to know. I’m proud of you, Josie.”

  “Thanks.”

  Before the moment could become too fraught with emotion, Lisette got right to business. “Do you have any idea who took your sister?”

  “No,” Josie admitted. “I don’t know Trinity that well, Gram. Yes, we’re sisters, and we’ve spent as much time together in the last three years as we could manage given both our careers, but Gram—”

  “You know her well enough, Josie.”

  Josie lowered her voice. “No, I don’t. I know how she takes her coffee. I know her favorite restaurant. I know she weighs less than me, but she eats like an NFL linebacker. I’ve been to her apartment. I know she values her career above all else. Those are the things I know about her. That doesn’t add up to much. Do you realize, I don’t even know what kind of childhood she had?”

  Lisette sighed. “A happier one than you.”

  “Well, yeah,” Josie said. “That’s always been my assumption, but how do I really know for sure? I never even bothered to ask her.”

  “Shannon and Christian are good people,” Lisette said.