“I can see that you’re enjoying your dinner,” Gerald replied hesitantly, glancing down at the untouched food. He’d come into the pub with a couple of friends, who were shifting uncomfortably behind him. “I probably shouldn’t have even approached you, but I can’t let the opportunity go by without finding out if there have been any new developments.”
There was a hint of anger in the man’s tone that was understandable. One of the FBI agents on his sister’s case was at a local bar, eating dinner as if there weren’t more important things to be doing—like spending every waking hour hunting down a killer.
This was the problem with small towns, though. People made assumptions based on their own understanding and limited experience. Not fifteen feet away sat a deputy who was working undercover, and Linc was taking an entirely different approach by being with the one person who seemed to fascinate the unsub the most.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t share that information with Gerald Chambers.
“We’re still investigating the leads we’ve developed,” Linc offered, setting his beer down on the table. There was something disrespectful about drinking in front of a victim’s brother. Hell, this entire situation had been awkward from the word go. “Your parents were at the station earlier, helping out with the hotline.”
“I’m actually going to take them over some dinner in an hour or two,” Gerald divulged, twirling what Linc always referred to as a golfer’s hat on his finger. The dark grey fabric matched his dress coat. “I appreciate you letting them assist on something to do with the investigation. It gives them a sense of hope and purpose.”
“That was Sheriff Hopkins’ decision, though I do agree that it was the right call to make under the circumstances. Your parents were born and raised here, so they have the ability to field the calls in a way that someone unfamiliar with local traditions wouldn’t be able to do so. We appreciate their willingness to—”
Linc broke off when the two friends who Gerald had walked into the pub with acknowledged someone walking toward them from the back. It was none other than Todd Acker, and Quinn was nowhere to be found.
Linc checked his gut reaction to say something before he called attention to himself.
“We’ll meet you in the back, man,” one of the two friends muttered as he walked past Gerald to meet up with Todd.
The three men went about shaking hands, with Todd being somewhat leery of Linc’s presence. There was nothing for him to be wary of, especially considering that Linc and Dean had handled the questioning this morning with kid gloves.
“Are you friends with Todd Acker?” Linc asked Gerald, who had stepped closer to the booth so that his friends had room to walk past him. This conversation needed to be handled delicately. It wouldn’t do to have Gerald Chambers believing that Acker had something to do with the killings. “I’m actually having dinner with Quinn Simmons. She and Todd were just talking for a minute.”
Linc hadn’t shared anything that no one in this bar hadn’t already known, but it gave him an opening to find out more about Todd Acker. Information on paper only revealed so much. Plus, everyone in this town was aware that the unsub had been in touch with Quinn. It gave credence to their meal, plus more…the more being key in this situation.
“Yeah,” Gerald replied, lifting a hand to let his friends know that he wouldn’t be long. “We meet up to play darts every so often. He’s a good guy. Listen, I won’t keep you. Thanks for talking to me.”
Linc would have liked to have gotten more information about Todd Acker from someone in his inner circle, but now wasn’t the time to press the subject. If the unsub was watching Quinn closely this evening, that meant that Linc was also in his crosshairs. It wouldn’t do to give the unsub the wrong idea. Linc would follow up with Gerald Chambers in the near future.
Another few moments passed without Quinn showing up at the table. Linc was mere seconds away from going to find her when a message came across his phone. Grant Evans had texted from his vantage point at the other table that he’d seen Quinn enter the women’s restroom. The deputy didn’t know it yet, but he’d just chalked up another recommendation to the academy. It was clear that he’d been aware and monitoring the situation from afar, and his ingrained ability to read the situation was impressive.
Linc glanced down at the wings and fries that had basically gone cold. Whatever had been said between Quinn and Todd had been enough to send her in search for privacy. His desire to protect her was growing by the hour. It shouldn’t be a problem, though.
He just needed to remind himself where the line was drawn between his job and his natural instincts to protect her.
Quinn had kept her conversation with Todd brief, basically wanting confirmation that he hadn’t said a word to anyone else about Nick’s secret. He almost seemed remorseful. He’d quickly explained that Nick had broken down in a drunken mess while Todd had been driving them home.
Neither one of them had ever spoke about it again, leaving Todd with a nagging suspicion that Nick had not even remembered spilling his guts that night. He’d basically been an emotional wreck and might have blocked out everything that followed the accident.
When Todd had placed a hand on her arm in what seemed like pity, Quinn had quickly pulled away. She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. She certainly didn’t want his pity. First, it wasn’t his place. Second, it was in that moment she realized what she looked like to those she’d known years—a woman who hadn’t been able to move on with her life. They all thought she’d put all her effort into her career due to overwhelming grief.
It was so much more complex than that.
“I have about two seconds before my partner out there throws a fit, so you better spill fast,” Rhonda said with excitement. Once again, Quinn realized that because she had lunch at the pub every weekday, the bartender had become a friend of sorts. When had her life become this sad? “Are you dating that hunk of a federal agent or what?”
Quinn cleared her throat, having an odd sense of déjà vu.
She turned the handle on the sink to start the water, making it seem as if she’d already used the toilet. There were two stalls that were still in use, making this discussion pretty public. While she valued her privacy, she realized this was the perfect opportunity to have gossip spread around town like wildfire. If The Widow Taker wasn’t here to see for himself that she was on a date, then he’d hear about it soon enough.
“Let’s just say that it’s going really well between us,” Quinn said with a smile, making it as natural as possible. “And before you ask, my accepting his invitation to dinner has nothing to do with his connection to the case. There’s just something about the man that…well, you know what I mean.”
Rhonda fanned herself while nodding her total agreement.
“You definitely have a winner with that one,” she said, turning to the sink to wash her hands even though she hadn’t gone into one of the stalls. She certainly was a chatterbox tonight. “And he even watches ‘The Walking Dead’. Bonus. That’s one of my favorite shows. He’s seen every season, too.”
Quinn tried not to look surprised that Rhonda knew something so personal about Linc. She reached for a paper towel from the dispenser as she stepped out of the way so that one of the other women could wash her hands.
“I better get back before someone else makes off with him,” Quinn said, tossing the crumpled sheet into the trashcan. “Have a good night.”
Quinn opened the door, allowing the muffled music to echo throughout the small room. She caught sight of Todd and some of his friends getting ready to play some darts, so she decided to take the long way around the bar to get back to her booth. As she walked through some of the tables, she locked gazes with Linc.
There was slight stutter in her heartbeat.
She didn’t allow that to falter her steps, though. From the darkening of his eyes, he was well aware of the attraction between them. She reminded herself that this dinner was simply a ruse, and that his staying in he
r guest bedroom was nothing more than part of the investigation. As if to press that thought home, Linc was pointing toward her phone that she’d set down on their table near the wall.
“Your phone is blowing up, but I’d like to know that you’re okay after your talk with Todd first,” Linc said, watching her closely. “You took a while.”
“I know,” Quinn said a bit breathlessly, picking up her phone with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about that. I just needed to hear from Todd exactly what…”
She let her words trail off as the message that came across her phone’s display began to register in her mind.
“You were right, Linc,” Quinn whispered in horror, quickly scanning the pub for anyone watching her reaction. “The Widow Taker is here. He’s watching us right now.”
She’d likely been The Widow Taker’s next target. Linc’s proposition might have saved her life. He’d already taken the phone from her hand, but the words were practically seared in her brain.
Have you truly found happiness?
Chapter Seventeen
The line in the sand that Linc had mentally drawn three days ago had basically faded into nothingness. Spending the entire weekend with Quinn had him more intrigued with her than ever before, and that was saying something. He would have sworn he could have figured her out by the time their dinner on Friday night had ended.
How wrong he’d been to assume.
“Oh, my God. I haven’t had these in years,” Quinn said from behind her monitor. The moans of ecstasy she’d been emitting had made it very difficult to concentrate on the file displayed before him. He never should have had Dwight drop off a box of bear claws from the local bakery. “You know, Mrs. Bradenhoff used to give us free donut holes every Saturday afternoon. Don’t get me wrong. They were the ones that she was going to throw out that night, but they were still delicious.”
How was it that she could still be such an enigma after the seventy plus hours they’d been in each other’s company?
Quinn liked her coffee black, but she needed her tea with cream and sugar to get her morning off the ground. She refused to watch any movie where an animal was hurt or killed, but she was completely fine with watching a marathon yesterday of ‘The Walking Dead’. She wore cutoff sweats with a hoodie, but needed the space heater for her lower legs, which she could have just covered by wearing a pair of pants that hadn’t been tampered with by a set of scissors. She literally had no rhyme or reason to how she went about her daily life. She was impulsive, yet a creature of habit at the same time.
It was frustrating, maddening, and sexy as hell.
What he needed right now was a break, and it was coming in the form of another public outing in a couple of hours. The welcome interruption couldn’t come soon enough.
He set aside the file he’d been going over repeatedly for the past month, having pretty much memorized every detail in the Tamara Johnson’s file. He had no doubt the unsub made a mistake with his first kill. The answer was there. It just needed to be put into context.
Linc snagged his cup from the coffee table. He needed a refill and to hit pause on where his thoughts kept going with Quinn. Maybe the caffeine would help straighten out his tendency to examine her quirks and idiosyncrasies.
“I have something to run past you,” Quinn said quietly as he walked into the kitchen. She was still sitting at her desk, though she’d spun the chair slightly so that she could watch his reaction. It was the doubt in her tone that instilled a bit of tension in his shoulders. She was about to offer up an idea that wasn’t going to sit right with him, let alone Dean. “It actually occurred to me Friday night.”
The events of Friday night weren’t something that he wanted to rehash. Their dinner had basically been like eating cold leftovers due to her prolonged conversation with Todd Acker and then the receipt of the unsub’s latest text message.
Linc had immediately notified Dean of the contact between Quinn and the unsub.
Dean had shown up at the pub within fifteen minutes, a warrant in hand for the evening’s security footage. Saturday had been spent confirming each patron who’d been on their phone at the time the message had been sent, and all the individuals had been very cooperative.
The final result had been that the unsub had been either inside the pub at some point that evening, or he’d gotten a glimpse of them walking into the pub in each other’s company. The other variables were either the unsub had been in an area where the cameras couldn’t catch him on recorded video or someone else had inadvertently alerted him. Linc wasn’t convinced the other variables even came into play, and he’d already deduced what it was she wanted to do to hasten the timeline.
“It’s a bad idea.”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” Quinn said defiantly, her voice closer than before. Linc refilled his cup before turning around to face her. She was now leaning against the far counter, so he did the same, crossing one arm across his chest. She wasn’t going to win this battle. “We’re technically directing the unsub’s behavior, right?”
Linc had noticed that she’d gradually begun to address the killer without his moniker. She was picking up the language that he used in the numerous phone calls he’d made to Dean, the sheriff, and the team in general. She’d even set up a whiteboard in her living room for them to study. While he was impressed with her investigative skills, she was getting ahead of herself.
“No,” Linc countered, not comfortable with her verbiage. “We’re not directing anything of the sort. All we did by posing as a couple was introduce a singular variable into his belief that killing a widow who he thinks has moved past her grief is cold-blooded murder.”
“Fine,” Quinn relented, although she still had that stubborn tilt to her chin that all but screamed that she wasn’t giving up whatever grand idea she’d been stewing over since Friday night. “We can still do that—feed into his belief—in order to set a trap.”
“Quinn, this isn’t some made for television melodrama where law enforcement officers create an elaborate scheme to catch a serial killer. This is real life, and there are too many things that could go wrong with a scenario like that.” Linc gestured toward the office setup behind her. “What makes you think he’s not smart enough to figure it out? His message was skeptical about our date to begin with, and now you want to put this entire ruse into reverse? He might see right through you and cut off communication completely.”
Quinn ran her hands through her hair in frustration, shifting the strands so that they all fell behind her in waves. He’d noticed that the color of her eyes matched her hair. Hell, he’d noticed a lot about her in the short amount of time they’d known each other, but it was small nuances of her sharp wit and dark sense of humor that had him wanting more than this subterfuge they’d created for this weekend.
“You won’t even consider it?” Quinn asked, an edge to her tone that hadn’t been there since the day they’d met at the police station. “You won’t run my idea past Agent Malone?”
The way she’d thrown the question at him meant that she’d be willing to go behind his back to manipulate the situation. They’d spoken at length about the fact the unsub was currently monitoring a potential victim’s movements, and there wasn’t much they could do to stop him without a lead panning out or a miracle taking place. She wanted to take back the initiative, which he understood, but there were inherent dangers in doing so.
While there had been lighter moments throughout the weekend, there had also been a constant hum of sexual energy that hung in the air. He’d been able to keep himself in check without crossing the line he’d been so obsessed with maintaining, otherwise he’d be the one responsible for complicating an already overly complex situation.
Still, Linc found himself closing the distance between them until he was standing directly in front of her. The slight inhalation of air that she drew only added to the crackling of electricity between them, but he was wise enough to maintain those last few inches of distan
ce.
“No, I won’t consider it,” Linc murmured, realizing that he’d made a mistake by getting so close to her. “I won’t run it by Dean, either. We agreed this was the best course of action, and your impatience isn’t going to change our course.”
Linc had every intention of walking back into the living room, not caring that he left his coffee behind. It was better if he threw himself back into work than tempt fate. As it stood, she was nowhere near ready for the level of relationship he’d want if he were to decide to take that first step. That didn’t stop her from laying a hand on his arm.
“Is that your professional opinion or your personal take on things?”
“You don’t want to go down that road with me, Quinn.”
Linc held himself still, fighting the urge to take her into her arms and finally give in to the heat that had been set to high.
“Why not? It’s inevitable that you’re going to end up in my bed, Linc.” Quinn had once again taken the situation and spun it on its head. She never ceased to surprise him with her quick one-eighties. She seemed to weigh her next words very carefully, but that didn’t stop her from saying them anyway. “You’re not the only one who is good at reading body language.”
Linc stepped forward, causing her hand to leave his arm and rest firmly against his chest. She wasn’t physically delicate, but he had to remind himself that there was a fragility to her that he could shatter into a million pieces.
When she ran her hand up and around his neck until she was pulling his lips to hers…he accepted that she had the ability to break him, too.
She tasted sweet, with a hint of cinnamon from the bear claw she’d been enjoying earlier. The line he’d drawn was now completely blown to hell. The tide had already rolled in, and it had dragged both of them into a void of pleasure that he had no intention of leaving nor coming up for air any time soon.
The Isolated Widow (The Widow Taker Book 2) Page 15
