“…pronounce you husband and wife,” Lisa exclaimed, holding up her hands in victory. “You may now kiss the…ugh. Great. Just great. Kiss quick, because the night is about to be ruined.”
“What are you freaks doing up here?” Nick asked out of nowhere, his words a bit slurred. “Aaron, where are your keys, man? I promised Todd that I would raid Dad’s moonshine stash.”
“Nick, you can’t do that,” Aaron protested, turning toward his brother in irritation. “You’ll get caught, and somehow I’ll get in trouble with you. I’m not missing my senior prom because you wanted to get drunk on shine.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s already drunk, Aaron,” Lisa murmured, moving away from the edge of the cliff so that she could huddle closer to Quinn.
“What the fuck do you know?” Nick practically spit in Lisa’s direction. He then held out his hand out to Aaron. “Don’t be a pussy. Give me your car keys. Dad will never know.”
“No.” Aaron stood firm, which was unusual. He usually gave into his older brother’s demands, and Quinn was happy to see that he was finally standing his ground. “Have Todd take you back to his place so that Mom and Dad don’t see you drunk like this.”
Rain began to drop from the dark sky above, signaling that the party was about to disband. Some would head to the nearby lighthouse, which provided some shelter and light in the pitch blackness surrounding them. It was enough illumination that they weren’t swallowed by the darkness, and also sufficient enough to make out the anger marring Nick’s features.
“I’m not asking you again, little brother.” Nick’s slurred words were now practically a growl. “Give me your keys.”
Silence settled over the room, so unlike that night with the thunder clapping overhead, although the fan from Quinn’s laptop sitting on her desk was whirring in the background. She hadn’t shut it down before the pizza arrived, and it had gone into sleep mode. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Linc as she finished her story.
“Nick charged at Aaron after that, causing both of them to lose their footing. Before anyone realized how close they’d gotten to the ledge, Aaron was…gone.” Quinn could still remember how Nick had crawled desperately toward the edge, yelling his brother’s name. Lisa’s scream still echoed from the past at the oddest times. “It wasn’t like what you see in the movies, with flailing arms and the pause in midair. One minute Aaron was there, and the next he wasn’t. I haven’t been back to that spot since.”
“Why wasn’t any of this in the police report?” Linc asked softly, with what seemed like no attached judgement, but she knew better. The warmth of his tone had pulled her back to the present. Maybe it was the fact that he was holding her hand, which she hadn’t realized until just this moment. At some point, she must have sat forward and crossed her legs. He’d done the same, though his large hand had gently enveloped hers. It was almost as if he were trying to keep her from falling off that ledge with Aaron. “It’s unfortunate, but accidents like that do happen. Why not just tell the police the truth?”
“And risk Nick going to prison for manslaughter?” Quinn asked, still questioning her own decision to keep quiet back then. She removed her hand from his, not liking the sense of vulnerability it gave her to open up to him about the most horrific time in her life. “Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell would have lost two sons that night. How is that fair to anyone?”
Quinn didn’t have to be a profiler like Linc to know that he was thinking it wasn’t fair for an eighteen-year-old to go unpunished for his foolish decisions that night, either.
“Nick was crying, sobbing really,” Quinn recalled hollowly, wanting to shut off the pain that still lingered from that night. “He was completely devastated, saying over and over that his parents would never forgive him for killing Aaron. It was all Lisa and I could do to keep Nick from going over the cliff with his brother. We were pulling him back, telling him that he had to stop or he would fall, too. He finally slumped to the ground, barely speaking coherent words.”
“When did the three of you decide to—”
“Lie?” Quinn interrupted him abruptly, that familiar anger once again replacing the lingering pain.
“I wasn’t going to put it like that, but it’s interesting that you feel that way.” Linc didn’t seem apologetic in the least that he was profiling her. What shocked her was when he reached out and used his thumb to wipe away a tear that she hadn’t even known had fallen from her left eye. “Quinn, I’ve already told you that I’m not here to sit in judgement of you.”
“I judge myself. My own actions,” she admitted truthfully, still unable to make things right after all these years. “Linc, the only ones who knew the truth about that night were Lisa, Nick, and me. We swore to each other that we’d go to our graves with it. Two of them did, and I’m still here. No one else knows the truth.”
“Quinn, you were at a party with a lot of other teenagers. How do you know someone else didn’t see what happened?” Linc asked, lifting a knee so that he could rest his elbow on it. “You had to have thought the same thing. I’m assuming you’ve run down the names of who you remember was in attendance, but we have software at the bureau to be able to compare to the most recent profile.”
“I’m telling you, Linc, there was no one else up there.” Quinn was confident in her declaration, having gone over and over that night almost every minute since The Widow Taker had first contacted her. “The spot we were at was well out of the way, and Lisa had the perfect view of the only path leading up there. It’s how she spotted Nick come up in the first place.”
“You don’t know that, which is why I’m going to need a list of names,” Linc insisted, not letting go of his theory of someone else knowing about the marriage. He then forged ahead with her presumption, though she hadn’t been able to find any proof. “Or maybe Lisa and Nick told someone, possibly to alleviate some of their guilt. What was it you tried to accomplish today?”
Quinn sighed in disappointment, thinking about her visit with Aaron’s parents today. She’d had every intention of coming clean, telling them what really happened that night. She lifted her hands and rubbed her eyes with her fingers, not caring that her mascara smeared a little. She’d hardly put on any today, anyway. She’d been in too much of a hurry to get things done, the first being Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell.
Her day had just gone downhill from there.
“Don’t answer that quite yet,” Linc advised, pushing himself off the cream carpet and heading toward her kitchen.
She let him go without a word, falling back against the floor. She needed a minute to compose herself. She’d actually gotten the words out, and he hadn’t once mentioned that she’d be arrested as an accessory for murder.
Lisa and Nick were gone.
She was all who was left to tell the truth.
She could always retract her so-called statement to a federal agent should it come down to it, but a part of her wouldn’t mind coming clean to the world. It would certainly lift the heavy weight that had basically been slowly crushing her soul for over a decade.
“Here.”
Quinn was still on her back, and she opened her eyes to find him standing over her. He was holding out a glass of what looked like the bourbon that she’d stashed in one of her cupboards. It had been a gift from Roger, and it had never been opened before now.
“Really?” Quinn asked, fighting a smile she would never have believed would have crossed her lips tonight. “I’ve already spilled my guts. It’s not like you need to get me drunk. Unless you want to get into my pants, Agent Roche.”
She’d always heard that in times of high stress that one turned to another for comfort, often in the form of sex. That was the only reason she could use as an excuse for the fact that she’d all but flirted with a federal agent after confessing to being an accessory to covering up a murder. At least, that’s what her heart was screaming into the black void that had taken Aaron from her world. She wanted to take back the words, but Linc kneeled beside her, the drin
k still in his hand.
“It’s to take the edge off, Quinn.” Linc waited for her to sit up and take the drink, though his fingers wrapped around hers and didn’t release right away. “And trust me, I wouldn’t need to feed you alcohol to get you into bed.”
Quinn wisely remained silent after her gaffe and his response.
He was absolutely right.
He wouldn’t have to feed her anything to take this underlying attraction between them to the next level. She wasn’t talking about a relationship of any sort, but she certainly wouldn’t be opposed to a few nights of hot, sweaty sex. Anything to get her mind off the fact that she was probably going to hell for covering up Aaron’s death.
“Drink,” Linc ordered, sitting back down. This time, his back was to the fireplace so that he could face her. “Listen to me carefully. Aaron’s death was a horrible accident, nothing more. No one will ever know what a judge might have ruled against Nick Rockwell back then. It doesn’t really matter, though I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell the police what truly transpired that night, let alone a federal agent. From my standpoint, the key players are no longer in danger of being held accountable, and my chief concern here is to keep you safe.”
Quinn glanced down at the amber liquid, having heard every word that he hadn’t said with that little speech of his. His perspective was that she had to live with her guilt as a consequence, while keeping her safe meant that he’d most likely solve his case. The one possibility that he didn’t seem to want to accept was that the unsub was merely bluffing. The chances were slim to none that he had any inkling involving the real circumstances surrounding Aaron’s death.
“No one else was on the cliffs that night, Linc. No one knows what happened.” Quinn downed the bourbon in one shot, needing a moment for the slow burn to fade slightly before she was able to speak again. “I’ve gone over the people who were at that party numerous times, and no one fits your profile.”
“Did you ever think that maybe someone did witness what happened to Aaron, and maybe they sought out someone they trusted? Like a substitute teacher who went out of her way to help troubled students?” Linc set the tumbler onto the soft carpet. “You even mentioned that maybe Nick or Lisa told someone later in life. I’ll start looking into their lives to see if they were close friends with anyone who fits the profile.”
“First, you don’t believe Benjamin Henry is The Widow Taker any more than I do,” Quinn countered, shoving the empty glass back into his hand. He’d been right. The alcohol had taken the edge off, but nothing would ever diminish the remaining ache. “I’ll give you the names of all those at the party who I can remember, but you can’t invent something that isn’t there. I’m asking that you tread carefully. Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell lost both of their sons. I wouldn’t want them to lose their good memories of them, too. As for Nick or Lisa revealing what happened to someone, you’re wrong on that account. None of us ever spoke of it again, even with one another. Face it, Linc. Your unsub is bluffing. Almost everyone has a secret, and he’s hoping that I fall for his stunt in order to keep printing his disturbed propaganda.”
“You’re missing the point,” Linc countered, tucking a strand of her hair that had fallen forward behind her ear. The familiar manner in which he’d touched her had her aching for something that could never happen. “If the unsub knows about the fake ceremony that took place that night, he could very well be viewing you as a potential target. The events of that night could very well make you a widow in his eyes.”
“The Widow Taker just wants me to put him front and center in the news,” Quinn argued, still not on board with Linc’s idea that she was in danger. “I’m nothing more than the messenger.”
“And what if you’re wrong? Are you willing to risk your life on a fifty-fifty, Quinn?”
Chapter Ten
“That’s definitely the break we’ve been looking for,” Dean muttered after Linc finished sharing the details from the previous night. He might have left out a minor event or two. He needed more time to mull over the relevance that Nick Rockwell was responsible for his brother’s death. The only pertinent information that needed to be followed up on was the fake wedding ceremony. “Dwight, run down a list of who the people were at that party. Do it as quietly as possible.”
Linc gripped his coffee cup to stop himself from countering Dean’s decision, even though it was the right call. He actually already had a partial list of names to give to Dwight, providing the deputy a good place to start.
They weren’t fully considering the consequences, though.
The rest of the evening at Quinn’s house had been spent installing her new doorbell camera that she’d purchased online. He’d suggested she order several more cameras—one for outside near the walkway, and one for her rear patio door, as well. It was best to cover all the potential entry points, especially since they weren’t quite sure how the unsub had broken into her townhome a month ago.
She’d wisely had all the locks changed afterward.
They’d both gone out of their way to keep the expected professional distance between them. After Quinn had downed the bourbon that he’d poured for her, he’d purposefully made sure that he didn’t touch her the rest of the evening, maintaining the integrity of her personal space. The vulnerability she’d displayed while sharing her past had been heart-wrenching. He’d practically had to wrestle with himself not to pull her into his arms to offer her comfort.
“What if Quinn is right about the unsub not knowing about the so-called wedding played out on those cliffs?” Linc pushed his laptop away so that he could lean forward on the table. It was rare that he questioned his own judgement. “We could be the ones to bring it to the unsub’s attention, thereby putting her life in danger.”
“You already believe she is in danger,” Dean pointed out, narrowing his gaze and seeing that the tables had been turned. “It’s unlike you to waver after having reached a conclusion, Linc.”
It was less than a month ago that Linc had been the one giving Dean advice on getting too close to a potential victim, only to have Linc inform him that life was too short to worry about what-ifs. This situation Linc found himself in with Quinn was different, though. She was bearing the weight of a guilty conscience that had clearly affected the path her life had taken.
Quinn had basically closed up shop, swearing herself off of relationships and throwing herself into her work. She’d convinced herself over the years that she couldn’t get close to anyone for fear of disclosing the truth. It was easy to see that after losing those who held special significance in her life that she had subsequently turned even more inward, shutting out the possibility of losing anyone else.
Linc had finally unraveled the enigma that was Quinn Simmons, but he’d found that there was so much more he wanted to learn about her buried underneath her self-imposed castle rampart of protection. Only he wasn’t sure that she would ever allow that to happen.
“I’m not wavering on my initial assessment,” Linc replied, doing his best to push aside the fact that Quinn had drawn him to her like a moth to a flame. He was damn good at his job, and he wouldn’t second guess himself over his natural attraction to her. “I do believe Quinn needs protection, though. I voiced my concern upfront.”
“Have you run that past Miss Simmons?” Dean asked, his skepticism evident.
Chaz and Evans both looked up from their respective files.
They had been sitting on one side of the conference room table going through the box of receipts that Connor Pryor had brought into the station yesterday. Pryor had apparently discovered a receipt from when one of the victims had attended a surprise birthday party the pub had hosted back before it had been sold to Daryl Brighton.
One of the needles in the haystack that they’d been looking for was how the unsub had been choosing his victims. It could have been from social media, a church, or someplace that the unsub frequented…like the pub. They just hadn’t been able to pinpoint the location or circumstance all
of the victims had in common.
“I have not discussed it with Quinn, but it’s still our call to make based on our investigation thus far.” Linc took notice of Chaz sharing a look with Evans. They were all aware that Quinn could be a bit inflexible with her opinion when she thought her privacy or independence was being invaded, although they had no idea the complexities behind such behavior. “Don’t put a detail on her until I speak with her about it myself. The last thing we need is for her to print an article outlining how we’re overstepping our bounds. The public is already primed to be distrustful of law enforcement in this case, especially after the wrongful arrest of Oliver Stevens.”
“Linc is right in that we should tread carefully when speaking with these individuals. We will treat the attendance at said party separate, without disclosing or referencing the circumstance regarding this so-called wedding that Quinn had with Aaron Rockwell.” Dean stood from the table with his cell phone in hand. “Chaz, do you mind if I use your office? I have some calls to make.”
Once Dean left the conference room, most likely to update Supervisory Special Agent Archer on the investigation, the other three men in the room resumed their duties. Chaz and Evans began to go through more receipts, while Dwight went back to reading whatever it was that he had up on his laptop. Linc had no doubt that Quinn was doing some work of her own, tracking down old friends of Nick Rockwell and Lisa Kirkland.
Had one of them confided the truth to a significant other or friend?
Guilt had a way of tearing down walls until there was nothing left but barren wide-open ground.
“Dwight, here is a list of names of who Quinn remembers seeing at that party,” Linc said, pushing the piece of paper over so that the deputy could look it over. “Go ahead and run background checks on all of them before speaking to any of them individually. I want to make sure that we’re not handing Quinn over to the unsub on a silver platter.”
The Isolated Widow (The Widow Taker Book 2) Page 9
