They heard Trinity’s heels clacking on the tile moments before she pushed past Noah and plopped down in one of the guest chairs on the other side of Josie’s desk. The same chair Josie had sat in a little over a week ago to beg the chief to bring her back on, even temporarily. “Your coffee sucks,” she said. “When are you getting new staff? This place is a ghost town. Oh, and that FBI douche wouldn’t let me in the viewing room. Did Branson give up Luke’s shooter?”
Noah told her because Josie couldn’t find the words. Trinity gave a low whistle and pulled out her cell phone. “Not yet,” Noah reminded her. “Wait till he’s charged, okay?”
“He’s already in custody, but whatever.” She rolled her eyes but dropped her cell phone back into her purse. “Who else did Branson give up?”
Noah said, “Couple of guys in the State Police, one guy at the sheriff’s office, the DA, Frisk. Most of the guys involved—law enforcement, anyway—were from here. The rest of them were just locals including a doctor, a pharmacist, and a bartender.”
“That sounds like the beginning of a very bad joke,” Trinity said. “This is insane. You realize that, don’t you? I mean this thing is huge.”
“Huge, but exclusive,” Josie said.
“Oh really?” Trinity said incredulously. “It sure doesn’t seem like it was exclusive.”
“They didn’t let in anybody,” Josie clarified. “Gosnell required absolute secrecy and loyalty. Nobody wanted to be the person to blow the whistle. Turning Gosnell in meant turning themselves in. Any one of them might have been able to cut a deal and testify against the rest of them—if they lived long enough to do it—but their friends and colleagues would have gone down with them.”
“But surely someone tried to put a stop to it. I mean how did this go on for decades? How did so many people get away with it for so long?” Trinity asked.
Josie said, “Gosnell was all about intimidation and once he had people in his pocket who were willing to cover for him, he was unstoppable. Some of the men we identified on the tapes as Gosnell’s clients killed themselves. Maybe they wanted to say something but couldn’t.” She thought about Ray and how he hadn’t wanted to know because knowing would force him to act. He had known he wasn’t strong enough to take on Gosnell and his accomplices. “But they couldn’t live with it either.”
“Some of Gosnell’s clients had unfortunate accidents,” Noah put in. “That probably weren’t accidents at all.”
Trinity stared at him open-mouthed. “Holy shit.”
“If I wasn’t living it, I wouldn’t believe it,” Josie said.
“What else did Branson say?” Trinity asked. “Did he say anything about Isabelle Coleman?”
Josie told her what Dusty had revealed.
“So she’s in the woods somewhere?” Trinity asked.
Josie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Hopefully she didn’t get eaten by a bear,” Noah put in.
Trinity turned to regard him. “That’s not funny.”
His cheeks colored. “It’s not a joke.”
From down the hall, Holcomb called for Noah and he shuffled off, leaving Josie alone with Trinity. “Can you make a public appeal?” Josie asked her. “We could use help with the search. I’ve only got twelve people out there. It’s all we can spare right now.”
“Of course,” Trinity said. She pulled out her cell phone and started firing off emails at machine-gun speed. Josie swiveled in her chair and stared back out at the gray sky. It had been overcast and occasionally rainy ever since she left the Gosnell property. She wondered if she’d ever see the sun again. It was a silly thought. Of course she would. But would Isabelle? Was she still alive? “She’s still alive,” Trinity said, as if reading Josie’s mind.
Without turning, Josie said, “I hope you’re right. The odds are not in her favor.”
A tap on the door drew both their attention. Noah stood there, a pinched look on his face. “Boss?” he said.
Josie couldn’t get used to him calling her boss, but she didn’t correct him. He seemed to enjoy it. “Yes?” she asked.
“Someone just called in another missing person. It’s Misty—Misty Derossi.”
Chapter Seventy-Three
Josie stared at Noah. “What?”
“Misty’s been reported missing.”
Trinity looked from Noah to Josie and back again. “You’ve got another missing girl?”
“She’s not a girl,” Josie said. “She’s a stripper at Foxy Tails.”
“The stripper who was seeing your late husband?” Trinity asked.
Ignoring the question, Josie asked Noah, “When was she last seen?”
Noah looked down at the notepad in his hand, flipping pages as he spoke. “Well, she worked her regular shifts last week. Then she called out sick the first few shifts this week. After that, she was a no-show. Her boss says she’d never done that before. Cell phone goes right to voicemail. Her best friend is away on spring break. She says she talked to her four days ago and she sounded strange. She’s called Misty several times a day since then but like I said, all calls go right to voicemail. She’s not answering texts either. The best friend had one of Misty’s coworkers go by her house but there was no answer, and her car’s been in the driveway the whole time.” Noah said.
“Sounded strange how?” Josie asked.
“Like strained, like something was wrong. Also, her dog is missing. The coworker says it always barks like crazy when she comes over, and when Misty’s coworker knocked, there was no barking.”
“She has a dog?” Josie and Trinity said in unison.
Noah gave the two of them a bemused look. “What? Strippers can’t have dogs?”
Josie rolled her eyes. Trinity, who had pulled out her own notepad and pen, asked “What kind of dog?”
Noah smiled. “A chi-wiener.”
“A what?” Josie said.
“A chi-wiener. Half chihuahua and half dachshund. It’s small and yappy, according to the friend, and Misty is obsessed with it.”
It had never occurred to Josie that Misty could be in danger. She had sent Noah to break the news of Ray’s death to Misty as soon as they’d finished watching the videos with Holcomb. She hadn’t wanted Misty to find out second or third hand; she was capable of extending the woman that courtesy at least. But Noah hadn’t been able to locate Misty either at home or at work. Josie had told him to let it go. When Misty was ready, she would surface. They didn’t have the time or the resources to track her down.
But now both her best friend and her boss had reported her missing.
The chief’s words came back to her. Get them all. Had they missed someone? Missed something? Had Gosnell or one of his accomplices done something to her before Josie called in the FBI? Josie had no warm feelings for Misty, that was for damn sure, but she didn’t want her to be another casualty of one of Gosnell’s conspirators.
“We need to check her house first,” Josie said. She grabbed her jacket from the back of her chair. “Let’s go.”
Misty Derossi lived alone in a huge Victorian in Denton’s historic district. As Josie, Noah, and Trinity ascended the steps to the large wraparound porch, Josie bit back a disparaging remark about how Misty paid for the house. Noah went from window to window, peering inside each one. “It looks dark,” he noted. “No barking, just like the best friend said.”
“Well, if the dog’s not here, then that looks more like she took the dog and left,” Josie said, hoping that Misty had simply left town. But the fact that Misty hadn’t taken her car gave Josie a bad feeling. June Spencer and Isabelle Coleman had both disappeared while on foot. “We need to find out where she would go if she thought she was in trouble. Has anyone checked… Has anyone…”
Noah’s face softened. “I checked Ray’s house. You know his mom has been there all week? She’s planning his funeral. Misty’s not there.”
Josie nodded, unable to speak over the lump in her throat.
“So, where else would she go?” Trinity asked.
Noah rattled the doorknob and pushed against the door frame, testing it. “Well, that’s just it. She doesn’t have many friends.”
Josie swallowed another sassy remark.
“Her parents live in South Carolina, moved there ages ago. The friend says she called them, and they haven’t seen her in five years. We checked with all her coworkers, and no one has seen her. The friend says if she needed a place to stay, she’d come to her.”