THIRTY-FIVE
Josie was sweating profusely by the time she pulled onto Turner’s block. Warm air blasted through the vents of the SUV. She’d rolled down all the windows so she could get air from every direction, but it didn’t help. She found a parking spot near the entrance to his apartment building. As promised, he was outside walking Spot, though they seemed to be doing more standing than walking. Turner was in a T-shirt and basketball shorts again. It was no less disconcerting the second time around. Spot’s blue octopus was tucked under one of his arms as the dog knocked against a fire hydrant, sniffing half-heartedly.
Josie’s heart rate ticked upward as she got out of her vehicle and moved toward them. Turner’s back was to her but Spot sensed her, turning slowly and lumbering in her direction, his tail whipping back and forth.
“Hey, asshole,” Turner grumbled at the dog. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat as he, too, turned and spotted Josie.
She pulled up short, trying to mask her shock at just how terrible he looked. His curls were more unruly than ever. Beneath his beard, his skin had gone sallow. The circles under his eyes were dark purple bruises.
Spot bumped against Josie’s leg, panting and licking at her khakis. She leaned down and pet him from behind his ears all the way down his back, cooing praise, as she tried to regain her composure.
“No leash,” she said, straightening.
Turner held the octopus near Spot’s mouth, waiting until the dog took it. “Does he look like he’s beating anyone in a race? Besides, he hates walks now. I make him come out here to do his business and that’s it. Cass said he needs a…Cass…Oh God.”
He cursed, low but harsh. Then he tugged at his beard and stared at her, blue eyes half haunted and half terrified. “You said you didn’t find them yet. Why are you here? What do you need from me that you couldn’t get over the phone?”
Josie gestured toward the entrance to the building. Spot was already shuffling in that direction.
Turner glared at two men passing by before answering. “You can’t tell me here?”
“It’s hot,” she said, looking pointedly at Spot, who was pressing his octopus against the glass doors.
An older woman pushed one of them open, pausing to let the dog into the lobby. “Oh you,” she said, patting his head. Her mouth turned downward the moment she spotted Turner.
Josie was close enough to notice his body stiffening. The hand that wasn’t yanking at his facial hair rested along the side of his thigh, fingers tapping rapidly. The woman approached, the deep creases of her face arranging themselves into an expression of sympathy. She didn’t hesitate to squeeze his forearm. “Oh Kyle,” she said. “No news then?”
He shook his head.
Releasing his arm, she reached up and patted one of his cheeks. “I’ll be praying. You let me know if you need anything. I’ll drop off some food later.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Naimon.”
She gave his cheek one last gentle pat before walking off. Wordlessly, Turner spun on his heel and strode toward the building. Josie followed, nonplussed after that display. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised that he treated an elderly woman with respect, but other than when he dealt with his wife or daughter—or Josie’s sister—he seemed to have two approaches with women: unapologetic douchebag and shameless flirt.
“Come on,” he muttered, waving Josie into the building.
Cool air caressed Josie’s face. The lobby was well-lit with a row of silver mailboxes across from a bank of elevators. Spot waited dutifully by the doors. Turner punched the up button and waited, fingers drumming against his leg. “Just tell me,” he said quietly.
Josie sighed. “You sure you want to hear this in the lobby of your building?”
“Is there a good place to hear bad news?”
“I think that when you and Dani were living in Alden, she was having an affair. With the guy who killed Maxine and Haven Barnes. I think she broke up with him, and he was making her life difficult. Stalking, maybe, and it freaked her out so badly that she decided to move with you to Denton.”
He said nothing. Didn’t move. A soft chime rang out over their heads and the elevator doors slid open. Spot ambled inside, swinging his octopus back and forth. Turner and Josie joined him. After hitting the button for his floor, Turner looked straight ahead, giving a small tug on his beard.
In the silence, Josie let the rest spill out. “I think he followed Dani here and then he met Maxine. They started having an affair. I think, just like Dani, she broke it off and he didn’t take it well. He started stalking her, too. For months. I think that something in this guy’s life went sideways and triggered him to kill Maxine and Haven. Then he went to Dani’s house to, um…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud to him so she skippedover it. “But Dani knew what to say to him to calm him down, buy them some time, and he took them with him instead of…”
She decided not to finish that sentence either.
Still, Turner didn’t look at her, didn’t speak. He gave no indication he’d even heard her. He stayed just like that all the way off the elevator, down the hall and into his apartment. Spot kept close to Josie’s side, bumping against her leg as they walked. Once inside, Turner went into his kitchen. From the doorway, Josie and the dog watched him fill Spot’s food bowl. Even after he put it on the floor and tapped against its metal side, Spot stayed by Josie’s side.
“Turner,” Josie said.
He stood only a few feet away from her, staring over her head, body tense. The muscles of his forearms flexed as he fisted his hands at his sides.
“Is there anyone you can think of from when you lived in Alden that she might have been…having an affair with? A coworker, maybe? Neighbor? Anyone you might have crossed paths with?”
