Page 49 of The Couple's Secret
Glowering at Meredith, he said, “I didn’t mean to punch that prick.”
Gretchen still stood in the middle of the room, scanning it leisurely before slowly producing her credentials and flashing them at him. “We’re not here to talk about Hollis Merritt or the funeral. We’re from Denton PD. That’s where Tobias and Cora’s bodies were found.” She tipped her head in Josie’s direction. “My partner here has been trying to get hold of you. You hung up on her three times. Pretty rude, if you ask me.”
Josie sat down in the chair closest to him, catching a whiff of cologne, sweat, and vape juice. She set her paper coffee cup out of his reach and presented her credentials. “Totally rude.”
Dalton sat back in his chair, manspreading his thick legs and folding his arms across his chest. “I don’t got to talk to no police.”
“Nobody has to talk to the police,” Gretchen said. “But they do. How about we read you your rights first? Then we’ll tell you why we came all the way from Denton to talk to little old you.”
He scowled.
Josie read off his Miranda rights. When she asked if he understood them, he said, “Of course I do. I’m not an idiot.”
“That remains to be seen,” Gretchen said, leaning against the wall next to the door, tucking one foot up against it.
“Fuck you,” Dalton snarled. “I don’t have to talk to you bitches.”
“No,” Josie took another slug of coffee. “You don’t, but Mr. Stevens, I think you’ve got something you want to say. Information you want to share, and it might do you good because this is no longer a missing persons case. It’s a double homicide and guess what? Your name has come up a lot. Every person we’ve interviewed so far thinks you killed Cora and Tobias.”
Up close, Josie could see the deep lines scored across his forehead and the many crows’ feet fanning out from the corners of his eyes. The skin at his jawline sagged. Beneath his stubble, a deep flush colored his face. “That’s bullshit.”
“So you say. We’d love to hear your reasoning. Like I said, it might be in your best interest. Hey, Detective Palmer.”
“Yes, Detective Quinn.”
“What’s the minimum sentence for first-degree murder in Pennsylvania?”
“First-degree?” Gretchen echoed.
“Yeah. That’s the one where you intend to kill someone and then you do.”
“Right, right. Hang on. I know this one.” Gretchen tilted her head toward the ceiling, squinting as if that helped her recall facts. The room went so quiet, only the ticking of the clock on the wall could be heard. When Gretchen snapped her fingers, Dalton startled. Grinning, she said, “I got it. Death, or life without the possibility of parole.”
Josie held up her index and middle fingers. “Times two.”
Dalton lowered his arms, fisting his hands in his lap. He looked over at Meredith as if seeking help. She shifted in her chair, a bored expression on her face, and checked her nails.
“I didn’t do nothing,” he said, turning to Josie.
“Sure, sure,” she replied. “But you can see why you’re the first person who comes to mind when we ask people who they think killed Tobias and Cora, right?”
“What?” He looked genuinely confused.
“Detective Palmer.”
“Yes, Detective Quinn?”
“When the medical examiner performed the autopsy on Cora’s remains, how many healed fractures did she find?”
“Hmmm.” Gretchen pursed her lips and started counting her fingers. One hand. Then the other. Back to the other hand. Finally, she blew out a breath and said, “It was over fifteen. That much I remember.”
Josie arched a brow at Dalton. “Over fifteen healed fractures. Detective Dorton?”
“Yes, Detective Quinn?”
“How many reports of physical altercations, assaults resulting in injury, stalking, and harassment did Cora Stevens make with respect to her ex-husband?”
Meredith tapped her chin with an index finger. “Each or combined?”
