Chapter 52

Turner took his own vehicle while Noah and Josie followed in his SUV. Noah had clearly looked into Furnished Finds once they received the information about the truck from Deirdre, but Josie hadn't looked it up, too busy chasing other leads. Now she used her internet browser to see what she could find out about it.

"This place barely exists," she said. "If we hadn't spoken with Deirdre and seen the truck, I'm not sure I would believe it was real. Google says it's an antique furniture store, but it's got no website. There are no photos of it. Nothing. There's a phone number. That's it."

Noah said, "There's an aerial view of it on Google Maps. No street view though."

The dense residential areas of the city thinned out as they turned onto a narrow two-lane road that snaked up into the mountains. The GPS indicated they had fifteen miles before they reached the store. It was more populous than Prout Road, where Tranquil Trails was located, with residences spaced every quarter mile or so. Still, this far out from the city, Josie didn't see how Furnished Finds was able to support its business, unless it was a niche market or they had a dedicated client base. Josie had lived in Denton her entire life and grown more familiar with it once she joined the police department, yet she'd never heard of Furnished Finds.

She spent the rest of the ride studying the overhead view but it offered nothing illuminating. Surrounded by trees on every side—even across the road—the sprawling one-story building that housed Furnished Finds sat on a lot of gravel and weeds—none American burnweed though. Its exterior was painted a dull, fading blue. An eave extended from the roof over the tall glass storefront. On it the name of the store had been hand-painted in black.

Noah parked near the door, next to Turner's car, and they got out.

"Looks abandoned, doesn't it?" Turner said.

Some of the windows were covered with newspaper from the inside. The others offered a view deep into the cavernous store where dozens of desks, chairs, armoires, credenzas, kitchen sets and couches crowded together. It was less a showroom and more an overfull storage area. Josie thought she saw a sales desk near the center of the disarray, but no Deirdre or anyone else.

"Doesn't look like they move much product," said Noah. He tried the door handle, but it was locked.

"You're not getting in that way, LT," said Turner. "Let's walk around the back."

There were no windows along the side of the building. They followed Turner, but when they rounded the back, Josie and Noah stopped. A pile of furniture almost as tall as the building took up an immense amount of space in the expansive back lot. Recliners, tables, couches, bookshelves. Some of the pieces were broken. The upholstered furniture was torn and faded. Scorch marks marred the ground around it. Nearby were piles of ash. No burnweed.

Over his shoulder, Turner said, "That's one way to get rid of your unwanted inventory, huh?"

A white box truck identical to the one they'd impounded from Seth Lee's boardinghouse was backed up to a loading dock that extended from the rear of the building. Just like the other one, there was no writing on it, nothing to indicate that it was connected to any business. "Come on," Turner said. "The bay door is probably open."

When they reached the truck, Josie stretched upward and felt along the grill and hood. Cold. It hadn't been driven recently.

Noah said, "Slow down, Turner."

"Relax, LT. I've got this. Hello?" Turner bellowed. "Deirdre Velis? Hello?"

Through the narrow opening where the back of the truck met the dock, Josie could see that the bay door was open, just as Turner predicted. The cargo door of the truck was shut and latched. "Miss Velis?" she called, matching Turner's volume. "Denton Police Department. We just need to talk to you for a few minutes."

Turner squeezed behind the truck and hoisted himself into the bay. "Deirdre Velis?" he called again. "Denton PD. You have a minute?"

He squatted down and extended a hand to Josie. She stared at it. Turner laughed. "The great Josie Quinn doesn't need help? Come on, sweetheart. I'm trying to help you up, not grope you. You think I'd try something with your husband staring right at me?"

"Turner," Noah said, pointing toward the bay door. "Focus."

Turner shrugged and stood up, turning away from them. Josie hoisted herself onto the ledge with little effort. Noah followed. They walked along the concrete slab and then paused at an archway that separated the loading dock from the back of the showroom, the three of them calling out for Deirdre and identifying themselves. Tightly packed rows of furniture spread out before them. Along one wall was a large sales desk. Next to that was a hall. Deirdre Velis emerged from it, a metal baseball bat raised over her shoulder.

"Stop right there," she called.