Page 91 of The Couple's Secret
Before the Chief could chime in, the stairwell door whooshed open. A teenage girl strode into the room. Sixteen, maybe seventeen. She wore baggy jeans, the knees ripped out, and a black crop top that showed off the kind of flat stomach only someone under twenty-five could achieve, complete with a navel piercing. She stopped at the four conjoined desks, a familiar pair of blue eyes flashing, and flicked her long, dark hair over her shoulder.
The door opened again, slowly this time, and their desk sergeant, Dan Lamay, shuffled in, panting, cheeks flushed and sweaty. “I told her I’d call up to see—” He stopped to catch his breath. “Slipped right past me.”
“I’m here to see my dad,” the girl announced to the room.
The Chief didn’t look even remotely surprised. Gretchen walked up beside Josie’s chair, handing her a stack of printouts while they each appraised the newcomer.
“Who’s your dad?” asked Josie.
“Kyle Turner.”
Josie was vaguely aware that both she and Gretchen were so stunned that they could neither speak nor move. Like deer in headlights or fainting goats.
“Did you hear me?” the girl demanded.
The eyes. She had his eyes. She was tall, too. The hair color was similar but this kid had none of his unruly curls. Unless she straightened them.
Gretchen’s words came out with the speed of molasses, each word like its own complete sentence. “Kyle. Turner.”
“He works here,” the girl explained. “He’s six four, crazy curly hair, always wears a suit. Total asshole.”
Laughter burst from Gretchen’s mouth and Josie knew they were thinking the same thing. Even Turner’s daughter didn’t like him. Was that why he never talked about her? Or was he just that private?
“Well?” the girl said. “Do you know where he is?”
“He’s not due on shift for a few more hours,” Josie said. “Don’t you have his cell number?”
“Ugh,” she moaned. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out. If you see him, just tell him we need to talk. I’m Cassidy, by the way.”
Josie opened her mouth to introduce herself, but Cassidy was already walking briskly toward the stairwell. She stopped when she reached Lamay. “Sorry I made you climb all those steps, but I had to see for myself.”
Once they were both gone, Josie and Gretchen looked over at the Chief. “Did you know that Turner had—” Josie began.
He cut her off. “Let’s get started. I want to be able to rub something in the Mayor’s smug, botoxed face tomorrow when she sashays through here looking for an update on this ‘high-profile’ case.”
Fifty-One
Jackson Wright’s reaction to seeing Bruce Olsen being led out of the other interview room in handcuffs was exactly what Josie had hoped for. On the way up from the holding cells, hands cuffed in front of him, Jackson had been expressionless, his body loose with defeat. Gone was his confident, purposeful swagger and in its place was the slow, sad walk of a man who now found life so pointless that every step hurt.
Josie could have worked with that but she had a feeling that the nervousness that swept over him after seeing Olsen was going to be even more to her advantage. Inside the small interview room, he hesitated, looking around as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. The walls were cinderblock, painted in a depressing periwinkle blue. A scarred metal table sat along one of them with three vinyl chairs pushed under it.
“Take any seat,” Josie instructed him. “Officer Conlen will take off your cuffs.”
Jackson folded his large frame into the chair furthest from the door. Once Conlen removed the cuffs and left the room, Josie took the seat closest to Jackson. She placed the folder of documents she’d amassed for this interview in the center of the table.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Water? Food? A coffee or soda?”
He shook his head. Since Denton transferred people to the Alcott County jail for booking and processing, Jackson was still dressed in the T-shirt and jeans he’d been wearing when he crushed his brother with a soda machine. They were stiff and wrinkled and streaked with dirt. He’d lost his hat and his dark locks were wild and unkempt.
Ignoring her offer, he said, “How’s Zane?”
Josie took it as a good sign that his first concern was his brother, even if he’d been the one to harm him.
“Jackson, I’m going to read you your rights before we discuss your brother and the other things we need to talk about.”
“Then you’ll tell me how he is?”
“Yes.”
