Chapter 27

TWENTY-SEVEN

Gracie Tate’s wails cut right through Josie. Even through the wall separating the interview room from the CCTV room, with the sound turned down on the monitor, she could hear them. Every cell in her body wanted to race next door to soothe the infant. Josie looked behind her to where Gretchen leaned against the wall, sucking down another pecan frappé. By the furrow in her brow, she, too, was bothered by the cries.

It had been just over six hours since Josie had found the lengthy records of Stella’s texts with Remy over the last month. Josie and Noah had gone home to sleep while Turner went over them with a fine-toothed comb, looking for anything and everything Noah could use when they brought Remy back in for questioning. He gave Noah a surprisingly thorough report when they came back on shift.

When Josie and Noah had gone to the Tate home to bring Remy in for an interview, he had insisted on bringing Gracie with him, claiming he had no one to call to watch her, even for an hour or two. Josie had run through a number of suggestions: his parents, Cleo’s mother, a neighbor, Cleo’s closest friend. Finally, he had agreed to call his mother. She lived outside of Denton but promised to meet Remy at the police station to take Gracie off his hands. Until then, he waited in the interview room with his very unhappy infant.

Noah sailed through the door, a stack of printouts from Remy Tate’s text messages in his hands. With a grimace, he said, “You can hear her in the hall. What’s going on with this guy?”

On camera, Remy sat hunched in one of the chairs, elbows on knees. He alternated between sinking his face into his hands and half-heartedly pushing Gracie’s stroller back and forth. He made no attempt to pick her up. It was a far cry from the concerned father he’d been the day Cleo was abducted. Josie guessed four days of full-time solo parenting was wearing on him.

Gretchen tossed her empty cup into the trash bin under the desk. “I’d like to give him the benefit of the doubt since his wife was just murdered but given Cleo’s phone records, I don’t think he ever had much interest in being a hands-on dad.”

Given his lack of paternal instinct, Josie found it odd that although Cleo had just been killed, Remy was caring for his daughter alone. It was times like these that loved ones tended to surround a grieving spouse, trying to help in any way they could. Had no one close to the couple offered to help, or had he kept everyone away? Did he think people would ask too many questions? Or were people already suspicious of him?

If they weren’t, they would be soon. Josie wasn’t sure they would be able to keep a lid on his affair after today. They were going to release the news about Stella’s murder once they spoke with Kellan and Remy. Josie had no interest in stirring up a press frenzy, but with practically zero leads other than a blurred polaroid, they had no choice but to turn to the public for help. It wouldn’t be long before Stella’s relationship with Remy spread like wildfire. At least one of Stella’s old college friends had known about it. That friend, Abbie Roads, had moved to Oregon a couple of years ago after graduation, but she continued to text back and forth with Stella, most recently about the affair. Mostly because it was hardly an affair at all.

Of course, the press wouldn’t cover that part.

Josie had tracked down a number for Abbie Roads and left a message for her, although she wasn’t sure how much more Abbie could offer them that might help the investigation. The last exchange, from a week ago, was both curious and instructive given that Noah was about to question Remy.

Stella: I really screwed this up. R is coming on strong now. Too strong. I should never have let him kiss me.

Abbie: You should never have let things get this far.

Stella: I know!!!! He’s married. Several crying emojis followed. What does it say about me that I’m actually attracted to him? I mean, I’m both attracted and repulsed.

Abbie: Cheating on his wife is repulsive. Period.

Stella: He didn’t really cheat. We never slept together.

Abbie: Girl, he’s a cheater. Not only did you do other things, but the way he was coming on to you from day one, no spouse would put up with that shit. Maybe it’s not technically physically cheating but it’s emotional cheating and that’s worse.

Stella: He wants to see me again. Alone at his house while his wife is out. God, why am I like this? How can I be attracted to this guy? R is no better than HE was or my dad.

Abbie: Absolutely not. Public place only. You cannot do this. It’s not just unprofessional. It’s unethical and immoral. Your credibility will be tainted and once that happens, you can kiss a career in journalism goodbye. You can kiss it all goodbye—even a book deal.

Stella: Even if I have a big gun backing me?

Abbie: Yes. Even then.

Gracie Tate went from wailing to shrieking. She was hungry. Couldn’t Remy tell? Had he even brought bottles?

Gretchen paced. “Where is Kellan Neal?”

“The Chief is bringing him up in a few minutes,” Noah said. “He took exception to being put into an interview room.”

“I bet,” Gretchen muttered.

Josie stood up. “That’s a hungry cry.”

Noah blocked the door. “I’ll go. I’ve already got a rapport with him. Maybe if I can get Gracie to stop crying, he’ll be more inclined to talk to me once his mother picks her up.”

Josie sat back down. Seconds later, Noah appeared on the CCTV monitor. He put the printouts on the table and said something to Remy, who motioned toward the stroller. Noah lifted the baby, cradling her in his arms. Her cries quieted a bit until she realized that no bottle was forthcoming.

Noah pointed at the diaper bag stuffed in the stroller’s storage area. Remy pulled it out, prepared a bottle and handed it to Noah. Seconds later, blessed silence descended over the floor as Gracie eagerly downed her formula. For a moment, Josie was transfixed by the sight of her husband holding an infant in his arms, giving her a bottle.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “This is going to make my ovaries explode.”

Gretchen laughed.

Josie had seen Noah with Harris when he was small and with his own niece when she was an infant, but that was long before either of them had considered having children of their own. Now, everything was different. Moments later, Noah was patting Gracie’s back, burping her. A small amount of spit-up dribbled onto his polo shirt. The whole thing gave Josie big feelings that had no place in this building. She needed to focus.

Lucky for her, Remy’s mother arrived to take Gracie. Noah handed her over and then helped Mrs. Tate get the stroller down the steps. When he returned to the interview room, Josie turned the sound up. Noah read Remy his Miranda rights. He didn’t ask for an attorney. With a heavy sigh, Noah sat down as close to Remy as possible. He made a point of asking Remy how he was holding up, expressing sympathy. With each word, Remy’s posture relaxed.

Then Noah turned the conversation to Stella Townsend. “I’m sure you know why you’re here.”

Remy picked a piece of lint from his sweatpants. “Because you went through my phone. You, uh, know about Stella.”

Noah spread the printouts across the table. “What I know is that Stella was very reluctant to enter into a physical relationship with you in spite of your…efforts.”

Gretchen snorted. “Noah is really good at speaking this guy’s language. ‘Efforts.’ Is that what lying sacks of shit call grooming young women these days?”

Although Remy clearly trusted him, Noah wasn’t acting quite as smooth and sexist as he had during the last interview. Probably because it wasn’t necessary. Remy’s text exchanges with Stella Townsend were pretty damning. They didn’t prove his involvement in either murder but they sure as hell didn’t paint a pretty picture.

Remy put his head in his hands. “You don’t understand. Stella is beautiful and she was interested in me. Really interested. If I wasn’t married, she would have gone for me right away.”

Given the texts between Stella and her college friend, Abbie, Josie wasn’t sure that Stella would have gone for him ‘right away.’ There was something else at play here. She just didn’t know what. Yet.

Noah said, “You met Stella about a month after Gracie was born. WYEP was doing a story about you?”

Remy tipped his head back, knocking it against the wall. “Not about me specifically. About the overhaul of the city and court records. The cost of digitizing the older ones and what we’d do with the paper copies once that was completed. Stella was there. The reporter didn’t seem that interested in the story, to be honest, even though he was the one who approached me. Afterward, it was Stella doing all the follow-up, calling to clarify things and ask more questions. We just kind of started talking and texting. I know it’s not cool, but I like her, okay? I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.”

Gretchen laughed again. “I’m pretty sure ‘it just happened’ is the catchphrase of cheaters everywhere.”

But it hadn’t just happened. Stella’s initial texts to Remy had been nothing but professional, but there had been so many follow-up questions, he’d suggested meeting for lunch. There was no way to know what transpired during that meal—Josie would never believe Remy’s version—but after that, the texts changed to Stella peppering him with personal questions. It was almost as if she was interviewing him. Josie wasn’t sure what Stella’s ulterior motives were or what ‘story’ she was after. Josie also didn’t know why Abbie had mentioned a book deal—but Remy clearly mistook her attention for sexual advances.

Remy said, “Listen, I know this makes me look like an asshole but I don’t see how this helps you find my wife’s killer.”

The landline in the CCTV room rang, startling both Josie and Gretchen. Snatching up the receiver, Josie said, “Quinn.”

Their desk sergeant, Dan Lamay, answered. “There’s a woman here to see you. She says you asked her to come in. Vicky Platt.”

“Yes,” said Josie. “Put her in the conference room. I’ll be right down.”