Chapter 50

"Let me help you with that, sweetheart." Turner came up behind Josie and started to adjust the shoulder straps on her bulletproof vest.

She shrugged him off. "It's fine. I can do it."

"Yeah," he goaded. "You can do everything. Except hop fences."

Josie ignored his quiet laughter. She wasn't getting sucked in. Not today. She scanned the parking lot of a local dentist that Denton PD and the Alcott County Sheriff's Office had chosen to meet up at before converging on the boardinghouse where Jon Lee had been renting his brother a room for the past ten years. It was located in Bellewood, which fell under the jurisdiction of the Alcott County Sheriff. Three days ago, after Rebecca told them about the boardinghouse and then got Jon to give them the address, they had contacted the sheriff's office to advise that they intended to arrest Seth Lee—if he was there. First, they put the house under surveillance. They didn't want to converge on it with a huge police presence only to find out he wasn't there. By trying to execute the warrant without confirming that he was on the premises they risked the other residents warning him off—making any future attempts futile.

As much as Josie hated waiting, especially with Rosie and Mira at risk, if Seth was there, she didn't want to blow their best chance at arresting him by moving too quickly and without enough intelligence. The white box truck registered to Deirdre Velis's Furnished Finds was in the rear parking lot, which had sent a buzz of excitement through the investigative team but then, after three days without any sightings of Seth Lee, Chief Chitwood had concluded that he'd likely dumped the truck there and moved on. He'd instructed them to go in using a less aggressive approach, which meant trying to get a key to Seth's room from someone on-site, if possible, rather than breaking down his door. The truck could be impounded afterward. They'd brought enough manpower to put a perimeter around the entire premises in addition to the officers who would secure the inside of the building. Right now, everyone milled about, checking their equipment. Noah moved among them, giving out instructions.

Behind her, Turner perched on the hood of his car, sucking down one of his energy drinks. In his other hand was his cell phone. He used his thumb to scroll. Without looking up, he said, "This is taking forever."

Ignore, ignore, ignore, said the voice in her head. Another Alcott County Sheriff cruiser pulled into the parking lot. A few minutes later, Noah gathered all the officers together and went over the plan a final time.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through Josie's veins as they got into their vehicles. The boardinghouse was only two blocks away on a residential street. The three-story building with blue siding towered over the neighboring houses. A driveway ran alongside it, the asphalt cracked in multiple places, forming a web connecting over a dozen potholes. There and around the front porch, weeds sprang up from every opening. In moments they had the entire place surrounded.

The sagging wooden planks of the porch creaked beneath their feet as Josie, Turner and two other officers approached the front door. Additional teams waited out front. A cluster of metal mailboxes were affixed to the wall beside the door. Only some of them bore names. She didn't see one for Seth Lee. The front door was locked. Someone had handwritten the word Office in marker below the single doorbell. Josie pressed the button and was rewarded with a muffled ding from somewhere deep inside the building.

A moment later, the door swung open. A man appeared. A black ballcap was pulled low over his forehead but his eyes darted from Josie to Turner and then the large police presence behind them. Frozen in place, his lips parted as if to speak, and then clamped shut. He was young. Maybe eighteen or nineteen. His black T-shirt, jeans, and tan work boots looked old and worn. His forearms were tan and corded with muscle.

"I'm Detective Josie Quinn from the Denton Police Department," she said, producing the arrest warrant. "We're looking for Seth Lee."

His eyes darted to Turner again, the officers gathered behind him, then back to Josie. He was unnaturally still.

"Do you work in the office?" Josie asked.

He relaxed slightly. "Yeah, I help out the landlord and she takes some off my rent. Uh, Mr. Lee has a room here. Third floor, number 12. But no one sees him. He's never around. I don't even think he sleeps here."

"We're still going to have to check out his room," Josie said. "It would go more smoothly if you could provide us with a key."

He tugged at the brim of his ballcap. "Uh, yeah, I guess I could do that."

Turner stepped forward, his large body filling the doorframe. "You got a name, kid?"

"Ryan."

Turner smirked. "Ryan? That's it? Like Cher or Shakira?"

"Who?"

"You got a last name, Ryan?" Turner said. He turned back to Josie but hooked a thumb toward Ryan. "Is this for real? These kids don't even know who Shakira is?"

"Tramel," said Ryan. "Are you here to arrest Mr. Lee? Because of the stuff on the news?"

Ignoring his question, Josie said, "If you're not able to provide a key to Mr. Lee's room, I'll have to ask you to step aside." She turned her body so that he had a better view of the police cars crowded around the front of the house. Noah stood next to one of the SUVs, overseeing everything. He stared at Ryan. "You can wait over there with my colleague, Lieutenant Fraley."

"Come on, kid," Turner urged. "Find us an extra key. I'll tell you all about Shakira."

With one last glance at Josie, Ryan backed up and gestured for them to follow him through the foyer and down a hallway. "I have a key. Come on, I'll get it for you."

Two teams of officers poured in behind them. Their feet pounded up the steps, one team moving to the third floor and the other to the second floor to ensure there were no surprises or ambushes. Ryan led Josie, Turner, and the two uniformed officers with them to a door marked with a sign that read: Office. He jiggled the knob several times and then lifted it up, pushing at the same time to get it to swing open.

The interior was dim, lit only by a small sliding sash window high along the exterior wall. It smelled of dust, chalk, and wood polish. An old oak desk that looked like it had been pilfered from a principal's office circa 1950 took up most of the room. The copy machine alongside it didn't look much more modern. Along the far wall was one blue metal filing cabinet with a matching metal table next to it. Both were dented, their sharp corners rusted. Ryan bypassed the desk and went for the table which held a Keurig, two chipped mugs, a selection of coffee pods, sugar packets, Coffee Mate, and a handful of plastic spoons. "Want some coffee?"

"Just the key, kid," said Turner.

"Sure, sure." Ryan walked behind the desk and bent to rifle through one of the drawers.

Josie could hear the rapid tap of Turner's fingers on his thigh. He groaned softly.

Ryan moved on to another drawer, his hands moving faster. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I swear it's here somewhere."

This time, Turner growled, patience lost. "Listen, kid. I don't have time for this I-Spy bullshit. I was trying to be courteous, but we can smash in the door, no problem. You stay here. My colleague has some questions."

Ryan's head whipped up, his mouth hanging open. He started to speak but Turner was already gone, taking the uniformed officers with him. Looking to Josie, he said, "I'm sorry. It's here. I can find it if you just give me a minute."

"Forget it," said Josie.

Ryan shrugged. "Okay, but the landlord's not going to be happy about the property damage."

Ignoring his comment, Josie asked, "When is the last time you saw Mr. Lee?"

"I've never seen him here." Ryan abandoned the desk for the Keurig. He pressed a pod into the top of it and then placed a mug beneath the brew base. He tapped a couple of buttons until the machine started making gurgling noises. Coffee streamed into the mug. "That's what I was trying to tell you out there. He doesn't come here."

"He doesn't come here, or you've never seen him?"

The Keurig emitted a long buzz and then went silent. Ryan lifted the lid to get to the pod and then disposed of it in a small trash bin near his feet.

"Ryan?" Josie backed up until she was on the threshold. From there she could see inside the office, but she could also see up and down the hall. Other officers were moving from room to room, checking the common areas.

"I've never seen him." He dumped three sugar packets and six Coffee Mate creamers into his cup and stirred them in with a plastic spoon.

A slow series of creaks came from overhead. More footsteps on the stairs. Someone calling for a prybar. "His truck is parked out back," Josie pointed out.

Ryan pulled a napkin from his pocket and folded it in half. Then he tucked the plastic spoon inside. Leaving it on the table, he picked up his mug and swiveled in her direction. He took a long swig before his gaze settled pointedly on her pistol. "That's his truck? How do you know?"

"We know, Ryan. How long has it been out there?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe some of the other guys might know." Ryan slugged down the rest of his coffee and returned the mug to the table. "Maybe one of them saw him but I doubt they'll admit it if they have. The people who live here don't much trust cops."

Josie had not seen any cameras on the exterior of the house, but she asked anyway. "Are there cameras out back?"

His hands hung loosely at his sides. His fingers flexed once. "Does this look like the kind of place that has cameras?"

Josie heard the rapid-fire sound of shoes on steps. Just from the frenetic pace, she was certain it was Turner. Moments later, she felt his breath ruffle the hair on the top of her head.

"He's not here, but come on up and have a look at the room. LT is arranging for the truck to be impounded."