Page 4 of The Couple's Secret
When she was three weeks old, she’d been abducted by a woman named Lila Jensen, who passed Josie off as her own in a ploy to get back together with her ex-boyfriend, Eli Matson. By the time Josie was six, Eli was dead and Lila—who had always been careless and neglectful—was free to inflict all manner of abuse on Josie. It had been hell. She had the scars to prove it, on the outside and the inside.
Then, when Josie was thirteen, Lila bewitched Dexter McMann and he moved in with them. Dex had parented Josie more in one year than Lila had her entire life. He had been kind and compassionate, making sure she never went hungry, caring for her when she was sick, taking her to get stitches when she cut herself, helping her with school projects, buying her books she was interested in, and even making sure she was able to go to the freshman dance with Ray.
The problem with being kind to Josie was that it made Lila homicidal.
What did he get for his efforts? Lila set his pillow on fire while he slept, causing catastrophic burns to his face and scalp. Disfiguring him for life. Josie could still smell his flesh and hair burning as she threw a blanket over his head, trying to douse the flames. She could still see the smug smile on Lila’s evil face as she guided Dex out of the burning trailer.
Josie had spent her life feeling guilty—and responsible—for what happened to him. She’d only seen him twice since that horrible day and both times he’d tried to convince her that she’d done nothing wrong. The last time she saw him, three months before he died, he’d finally gotten through. It wasn’t so much his words that helped her finally let go of the guilt. It was seeing him so genuinely happy, and that happiness had everything to do with his daughter.
Josie wiped another tear away and kept reading even though she had the words memorized by now.
The worst part of all of this is that Wren and I didn’t get enough time together. This poor kid is really getting the short end of the stick. Losing everything she ever knew with her mom and now with me. She’s at a difficult age, too. Vulnerable and sassy and fragile and mouthy all at the same time. But JoJo, she’s spectacular. The brightest star in the whole sky. She’s way smarter than me, stubborn as hell, a million times more talented than me, and under all her attitude, she’s got a soul that’s pure and true and worthy of so much more than what this shitty life has dealt her. She reminds me a lot of you.
“Oh Dex,” she choked. Never once had she gotten through the letter without breaking at those words. This was a very sadistic form of self-torture, but she couldn’t stop herself.
You think you trust the people in your life. Then you become a parent, and you realize that there’s a hell of a long way between leaving your kid with someone for a few hours and entrusting them with your kid’s emotional well-being—with their soul. That’s what this comes down to, JoJo. My daughter’s beautiful, tender heart and her wonderful soul. It’s going to be shredded. Destroyed. When I thought about the best person to pick up the pieces, there was only you.
Josie wiped some snot from her nose with the back of her hand. Good God. How had Wren felt reading this? Reading all the incredible things her father said about her? Being reminded just how fiercely he’d loved her? Had it been a comfort? Had it felt like a small gift among days of endless mourning? Or had it made her miss him worse than she already did? Had it made her furious at the unfairness of life? Grief was different for everyone. Something that might buoy one person could crush another. Although Wren spent a lot of time in her room, Josie hadn’t seen her upset recently. Noah hadn’t said anything either.
According to the clock on Josie’s nightstand, she had fifteen minutes to get to work. Quickly, she read the rest of the letter.
You’ve been through a lot and come out stronger for it. You also know what it’s like to lose people you love. Wren’s going to need someone who’s been there to get her through all this. There’s no one better suited than you. I know you’ll put Wren first because that’s the kind of person you are. You have a good heart, a big heart, and I know it’s big enough for my little girl (even if she’s not so little anymore). If you’re reading this, then it means I went faster than expected and didn’t have a chance to ask you to take Wren or a chance to introduce the two of you—to get you both used to the idea. To meet and talk with your husband and ask him to be part of this, too. For that, I’m sorry. What I’m not sorry about is having been in your life. That was my honor. I should have told you this a long time ago, but I love you, kiddo.
Tell Wren not to be too sad. I’ll always be right here, even if it’s just in spirit.
* * *
Dex
Josie wiped away more tears. Cheers erupted from downstairs. Trout barked again. Were they still having a tic-tac-toe tournament or had they moved on to something else? Whenever Harris came over, Wren indulged his every request. Tic-tac-toe, Mario Kart, tag, hide-and-seek. She even played catch with him out front. If he wanted to watch a show or a movie, she made popcorn and curled up on the couch with him. Sometimes he brought books and asked her to read with him. Erica was just as game. When all three of them were there, it tended to get loud.
Regardless of what they were doing, they’d be having fun the better part of the afternoon and evening. Misty would oversee their activities until Noah got home. Josie tucked the letter back into the bottom of the drawer and then retrieved her service weapon from its lockbox on the top shelf of their closet. Downstairs, everyone had moved into the living room. Wren, Harris, and Erica were so intensely focused on the video game they were playing that none of them heard or acknowledged Josie’s goodbye. Trout, at least, gave her a head tilt. From the couch, Misty smiled and mouthed, I got this.
That was probably for the best because Josie certainly didn’t.
Three
Denton Police headquarters was located in the most densely packed part of the city, its historic central district. The building towered over the others along its main thoroughfare, as imposing as a castle with its gray stone façade, bell tower, and arched double-casement windows. Seventy years ago, it had been converted from the town hall into the police station. Josie loved the old building. Each time she pulled into the municipal parking lot behind it and entered on the ground floor, a sense of calm washed over her.
Everything always made sense at work.
Even while investigating the most difficult and unpredictable cases, there were always rules and procedures to rely on. They lent a consistency that Josie had never found in any other place in her life. Except, perhaps, with Noah.
She trudged up the stairs to the second-floor great room. It was a large, open area filled with desks, filing cabinets, and a printer that was arguably as old as her. Most of the workstations were used by uniformed officers for completing paperwork or making phone calls. Only five of the others were permanently assigned. One belonged to their press liaison, Amber Watts. Josie, Noah, and the other two members of their investigative team, Detectives Gretchen Palmer and Kyle Turner, held the remaining desks. They had all been pushed together in the center of the room, forming a rectangle. It was supposed to make them feel as though they were sitting around a table together while they discussed open cases and gave change-of-shift reports, but with Turner now directly across from her, Josie hated the idea more and more.
“Hey.” Noah turned from his computer and smiled at her.
All the anxiety and sadness from earlier, at the house, drained away. He’d always had a calming effect on her. She didn’t remember needing it as much as she had since Wren came into their lives. Then again, she’d never been so afraid of screwing something up as she was with Dex’s daughter.
“You lose some weight since yesterday, Quinn?” said Turner.
As usual, he was dressed in a suit like he was headed to court for testimony. Leaning back in his chair, he clutched his cell phone in one hand while his thumb scrolled endlessly. With the other hand he squeezed a small foam basketball. The day he started, he’d affixed a tiny net to his desktop. Josie rarely saw him make a basket. It had been more than two years since their colleague, Detective Finn Mettner, was killed in the line of duty. Just over a year since Turner joined their team. Whereas Mettner had been fastidious, prompt, and respectful, Turner was a mess. His reports were subpar and usually late. He tended to disappear for long stretches of time during shifts with no explanation. There was also the matter of his sexist and inappropriate remarks, though he was learning to behave himself there.
To say working with Turner had been an adjustment was the understatement of the century.
Josie ignored him.
“Oh, what? You’re not talking to me today?” Turner goaded.
