“Then you must know what she deals with. The price of fame.”
Before she could stop it, a laugh erupted from her throat. “Trinity is a reporter. A journalist. It’s not quite the same level of fame. I’ve seen your face a half-dozen times in the last twenty-four hours and not by choice. Not including right now.”
His gentle smile didn’t waver. “I just wanted a blond vanilla latte. My wife, bless her, likes to coordinate and orchestrate every public appearance, no matter how small. She would be horrified if I was recognized getting my own latte.”
“That sounds restrictive.”
He sipped his latte, letting out a low moan of pleasure. “Vivian has almost single-handedly turned me from a pastor of a church with a congregation of only forty into a famed public figure with thousands of congregants. The more people who join me on my journey to God, the more good I can do in this world. When she talks, I listen.”
Josie thought of the multimillion deal the Tolands had closed on the old hockey arena nearby. She suppressed an eye-roll.
He said, “You think it’s only about the money.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“John,” said Josie, using his fake name. “Unless you’ve killed, kidnapped, assaulted, or robbed a citizen of my city, it’s really none of my business what you do or why.”
He gave a full-throated laugh, and in spite of herself, Josie liked the sound of it. His delight was genuine. “I can assure you I’ve done none of those things,” he told her. “You seem…”
He trailed off and the moment stretched between them.
“Impatient?” Josie suggested. “Bitter? Jaded? Brash? Abrupt?”
Again, he laughed. “No illusions, huh? I like that, Detective. However, what I was going to say is that you seem as though you’re carrying a great burden.”
Here it comes, she thought. This guy is going to try to get me to join his giant church. “Isn’t everyone?” she said.
“I suppose, but some burdens are greater than others. Yours is made of guilt, though.”
Immediately, Josie thought of her grandmother. Months of therapy had not disabused her of the notion that Lisette’s murder was her fault. He was right, and she could see by his warm and easy manner how it would be effortless to talk to him. She could see how people might reveal their innermost secrets to him, but Josie’s deepest, darkest thoughts were more carefully guarded than the nation’s nuclear codes, and the last time she’d met a person as intuitive and charismatic as Thatcher Toland, that person had turned out to be a murderous cult leader with a gaggle of murderous followers.
Thatcher said, “My ministry is based around unburdening, you know. Guilt is the heaviest thing we can bear. Even heavier than grief, I believe. But when we wake up to our faith, we’re able to give all of our burdens to God and in doing so, we’re set free. Don’t you want to be set free?”
“I want coffee, John. I just want coffee.”
“Here you go,” said the barista brightly. She pushed a cupholder with four paper cups in it toward Josie, along with a brown bag of pastries. Four cups. For Josie, Noah, Gretchen, and Mettner. Except Mettner wasn’t on this case because he was suspected of involvement in his girlfriend’s disappearance.
With a sigh, Josie scooped up the cupholder and gave Thatcher Toland one last look. “If you pray today, ask God to help us find the killer we’re looking for, would you?”
Sixteen
Back at the station, Gretchen was hunched over her desk, typing at her keyboard. Noah was at his desk, riffling through a stack of paperwork. Josie set the coffees and pastries from Komorrah’s on her desk and started handing out cups. Gretchen’s reading glasses teetered on the end of her nose, and when she took her cup, Josie noted the large bags under her eyes.
“Did you sleep at all?” Josie asked.
“What do you think?” Gretchen said flatly.
“Where’s Mett?” Josie asked.
“At my place. Passed out, finally. Paula’s home, so she’ll keep an eye on him, let me know if he leaves. Wouldn’t tell me shit, by the way.”
“You mean about the fight he had with Amber?” Josie said.
“Yeah. Makes me nervous wondering what he’s hiding.”
Josie said, “Did Noah tell you about the autopsy?”
“Yeah,” Gretchen said. She took a sip of her coffee and then resumed typing. “The Chief released a description of our Jane Doe to the press. He’s hoping that someone will come forward.”
“We heard on the radio,” Josie said. “And I just saw the report on television. He doesn’t want to go public with the fact that Amber is missing yet?”
Gretchen shook her head. “And invite all the unwanted press that comes with the police liaison vanishing? No. Not at this point. Especially since we cannot connect the murder of Jane Doe to the fact that Amber is missing. All we have right now are theories, no hard evidence. None that we can present to the press, anyway. The Chief wants the Russell Haven windshield message and Jane Doe’s resemblance to Amber withheld from the press. He doesn’t want to have reporters asking questions about whether or not the two are connected until we know more. He said to keep the Amber thing quiet for now, and focus on finding out what we can about our Jane Doe. I’ve also got two uniformed officers tracking down all the power station employees to check them out. They’ll let me know if they find any red flags. Noah tells me you were up half the night trying to figure out the numbers in Amber’s diary. You get anywhere?”
Josie plopped into her desk chair. “None. I can’t figure out what they’re for or what they mean or why they’d be in some diary that Amber had when she was a kid. The best I can come up with is that they’re possibly bank account numbers.”
“But even to access Amber’s bank account numbers, we’d need a warrant, which we can’t get right now,” Gretchen said. “Unless we can connect those numbers to her disappearance or Jane Doe’s murder in some way.”
Noah said, “We don’t even know if they’re relevant at all to either case. They were hidden, which is strange, but I’m not sure how we make a connection between the numbers—or even her childhood diary—to the two cases at hand.”
“I’ll keep trying to figure them out,” said Josie. “How about it, Gretchen? Any luck with Amber’s friend? Grace Power?”
Gretchen stopped typing. “As a matter of fact, yes. I spoke with Grace about an hour ago. She should be here soon. Driving from Lewisburg. Also, I checked with HR to find out who Amber listed as her emergency contact, and they’re going to help one of us get into her work tablet later today. They couldn’t give me her password because she set it herself, but someone from over there will call later and walk one of us through resetting it so we can access it.”
“That’s great,” said Noah. “Who is the emergency contact?”
“Grace?” Josie asked.
“It used to be,” Gretchen said. “A month ago, Amber changed her emergency contact from Grace Power to Finn Mettner.”