“Her husband.”
“You think her husband was stalking her but making her think it was a stranger?” asked Josie. Even as she asked the question, she could imagine Charles Barnes doing something like that. It was another way to exert control, especially after he’d relinquished the house to her.
“Maxi always denied that he was physically abusive, but it was clear to me early on from when she started working here that he was emotionally abusive. Recently, things had deteriorated between them to the point where Maxi thought they were going to get a divorce, but he’s always been petty and controlling. He’d get a kick out of making her squirm even if he wasn’t directly benefitting from it.”
It would also act as retribution for her wanting to leave him. Josie suspected he’d only agreed to leave the house because he’d met someone else. Even if that woman had stayed with him and they’d lived happily ever after, there was no way that Barnes would stop trying to make Maxine’s life miserable. Dr. Jones was right. Where was the fun in that?
“Noted, Doc,” Turner said. “One last question. Did Maxine ever receive flowers while she was at work?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
THIRTEEN
The words on Josie’s computer screen blurred before her eyes. She leaned back in her chair and blinked a few times. It had been a day since she and Turner spoke with Dr. Jones. They’d run down so many leads and talked with so many people she could barely keep up with all the paperwork. Naturally, Turner was no help. He continued to brood, and Josie wasn’t sure if she preferred that or his normal irritating douchebaggery. Regardless, she’d never been so grateful to have an upcoming shift with Gretchen.
For now, she found herself alone in the great room on the second floor of the Denton PD headquarters. It was a big, open area filled with desks that could be used by patrol officers to write reports. Only five of the desks were assigned. One was for their press liaison, Amber Watts, and the other four belonged to Josie, Noah, Turner and Gretchen. They’d been pushed together to form a rectangle that gave the feeling of sitting around a table with one another. The Chief’s office was just off the great room and, blessedly, it was empty at the moment.
The stairwell door whooshed open, and Noah walked in carrying two paper coffee cups from their favorite café, Komorrah’s Koffee. As he approached, she noticed the dirt onhis boots and jeans and the sweat stains in the armpits of his Denton PD polo shirt. His dark hair was flat instead of tousled, like it got when he’d been working out.
He placed a cup on her desk. “Blonde latte.”
“Thank you.” She smiled but then the stench hit her. Waving a hand in front of her face, she asked, “Why do you smell like manure and moldy hay?”
Lifting the collar of his shirt to his nose, Noah made a face of disgust. “Didn’t realize it was that strong.”
The door opened again, and Gretchen strode through it. She, too, had two Komorrah’s cups in her hand. Freezing in the middle of the room, she glanced around, zeroing in on Turner’s empty desk. A slow grin spread across her face.
“Well. This is going to be a very good night.” She passed by Noah and wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”
Josie took the cup that Gretchen offered and thanked her. Her mouth watered at the prospect oftwoblonde lattes. Then she looked back and forth between them and frowned. “Wait. Were you both at the coffee shop at the same time? Are these competing lattes?”
“He can’t compete with me,” Gretchen said.
“Bullshit,” Noah shot back with a smile.
Making a face of disgust, Gretchen said, “Wait. You were the fart that was lingering at the Komorrah’s counter?”
Josie nearly spit a mouthful of latte across her desk as laughter bubbled up from her chest.
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s that bad,” Gretchen said.
Josie wiped a drop of latte that had dribbled down her chin. “What happened?”
Noah ran his fingers through his damp locks. “I was at the festival for a sexual assault call that turned out to be just a couple of college students doing it—consensually—in the field behindthe cowpie bingo grid when two of the cows got loose. It was an all-hands-on-deck situation, unfortunately. You’ll be happy to know that Milkshake and Moo-rey Poppins are safe and back in their bingo grid. No injuries.”
Josie laughed again. Then she saw Gretchen, paused halfway to her desk, mouth hanging open, and laughed some more.
“That’s a lot to unpack,” said Gretchen.
Unlike Josie and Noah, Gretchen hadn’t grown up in Denton. She’d been raised in a more urban area of Pennsylvania before following her husband to Seattle. When he passed away, she moved back and had spent fifteen years on Philadelphia’s homicide squad before joining Denton PD. She wasn’t familiar with some of rural Pennsylvania’s customs.
Noah grinned. “Well, I’m gonna leave it to Josie to explain cowpie bingo. I need a shower, and Wren will be home in an hour.”
“I’d kiss you,” Josie said. “But no.”
“Raincheck,” Noah said over his shoulder just before he disappeared into the stairwell.
