The Isolated Widow (The Widow Taker Book 2)

by Kennedy Layne

  “Only I can make it—”

  Someone called his name.

  It was time to finish what he started.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Come with me,” Quinn said as they walked into the pub. The music drifting from the speakers wasn’t as loud as it usually was on a Friday night, but Bright preferred to keep the weekday evenings a bit more casual. The patrons liked to unwind after a hard day’s work, and there were groups of people scattered all around the bar area. “Roger—”

  “Roger dislikes me with a passion,” Linc said, attempting to get ahead of whatever she was about to say. “You know that, but I appreciate the sentiment in your offer. I’ll take a seat on the other side of the bar where I can watch the comings and goings of the room. Go ahead and join them. Try to take your mind off the case. Trust me, it’s for the best.”

  “Yeah, you keep saying that,” Quinn muttered, taking a step forward only to have him pull her back by the arm. He leaned down and stole a kiss, but there was something in his dark gaze that told her his public display of affection had nothing to do with their original ruse to appear as a couple. They’d somehow become a couple. All of a sudden, she wasn’t ready to leave his side. “Linc, there’s something that I—”

  “Perfect timing,” Sandy exclaimed, grabbing onto Quinn’s other arm. Sandy Gleason was in her mid-fifties and the super glue that kept Roger and the paper together. “Edgar couldn’t make it tonight, and I don’t want to end up sitting next to Rita. All she does is complain that Roger doesn’t give her enough article space on the front page. Did you know that she…”

  Quinn glanced over her shoulder as she was led away from where Linc still stood with a sideways smile. She could do nothing but wiggle her fingers as she was all but escorted past the bar and toward the back, where one of the private rooms had been reserved for the newspaper’s belated annual event. She’d much rather be camped out in a freezing vehicle near Olivia Harper’s residence in hopes of catching sight of The Widow Taker.

  Attending a work function where she really wasn’t even a part of the team seemed so trivial. Rita apparently thought so, too. Quinn hadn’t realized just how much Rita had resented her until Sandy had painted a pretty grim picture by the time they’d entered the back room.

  Quinn had no choice but to paste a smile on her face, remove her jacket, and try to finagle her way out of answering too many questions about Katie being parked in front of Olivia Harper’s residence. The three o’clock update hadn’t revealed anything new, ramping up the curiosity of the public. It also had to mean that The Widow Taker was feeling the pressure, wondering if Olivia had truly given his name over to the feds.

  “…without further ado,” Roger said in his booming voice at the head of the table, “the award for Story of the Year goes to our own Quinn Simmons!”

  A round of applause went around the table, though she found herself monitoring Rita’s reaction across the table. Sure enough, the woman was practically shooting daggers with her eyes. This was what Quinn got for not stopping into the paper’s offices more often.

  After giving a small acceptance speech about how much she loved the paper, the honorable way that Roger had been able to keep the business alive in today’s age of technology, and how much she appreciated being a freelance journalist while still contributing articles about her hometown, Quinn eventually excused herself to the restroom. She had opted not to drink this evening in case The Widow Taker was actually apprehended. She’d already gotten permission from Agent Malone to print the truth of the operation should it bring in the end result they were hoping for tonight.

  Quinn surveyed the bar, but Linc was nowhere to be found.

  She slowed her steps as she deliberately searched for him one more time. He would never leave the pub while she was still here, especially with everything set in motion. There was no telling how The Widow Taker would react to today’s podcast. She was forced to make a decision on whether to continue to the restroom or go in search of Linc.

  The choice was obvious.

  “Could I get a club soda, please?” Quinn asked the bartender, who she recognized as one of the younger bartenders who Rhonda had been training the last few weeks. His name was Bobby, according the nametag on his shirt. “With a lemon.”

  Putting in a drink order allowed her to search the pub for Linc or Deputy Evans. One of them had to be here, and she finally spotted the latter near the front door talking with Bright. The pub owner appeared to be a little upset, but she couldn’t hear a word of what was being said from so far away. A wave of unease washed over her at the thought of something going wrong with the operation.

  One person who constantly had her ear to the ground would know what was going on, but she was nowhere to be found, either.

  “Thanks,” Quinn said after the bartender set her drink down on a cocktail napkin. “Hey, where’s Rhonda tonight?”

  “That’s a good question,” Bobby replied, tossing a white bar towel over his shoulder with a frown. He gestured toward Bright behind him. “No one seems to know. Bright hasn’t been able to reach her, which is why he’s talking to Grant. She was scheduled to show up for her shift two hours ago. They called me in when she was a no show.”

  Rhonda wasn’t irresponsible.

  She and Bright went way back, and the two were pretty close. For him not to be able to get ahold of her meant something was off.

  Linc had to be out looking for her.

  For all Quinn knew, he’d sent her a message. One she wouldn’t have received, because she’d left her phone inside her backpack, which was currently hanging on a chair inside the private room.

  “If you’re looking for the gentleman you came in with, he walked toward the restrooms around five minutes ago.” Bobby was being called to the other side of the bar, but he stayed long enough to satiate his curiosity. “Is he one of the federal agents working The Widow Taker case? Bright doesn’t like him, and it shows.”

  Quinn hated to be rude, but she wasn’t going to answer Bobby’s questions about Linc. She mumbled a quick thanks and took her club soda off the bar, heading for the restrooms. Sure enough, Linc was standing in the small hallway with his phone to his ear.

  “…send a patrol car over to her apartment.” Linc caught sight of Quinn, motioning for her to come closer. “Brighton said he was already there, and she didn’t appear to be home. He’s talking to Evans now, but I’m not leaving Quinn when we’re not sure if this has anything to do with the case.”

  Rhonda’s disappearance had everything to do with the case. Quinn could tell from Linc’s tone that he believed it, too.

  For some reason, the music came on a little louder than the level of the previous song. He tried to close off one ear to hear the other side of the conversation a bit better, but it was a useless cause. There was a speaker right overhead.

  “The back alley,” Quinn suggested, figuring he wouldn’t want to walk through the bar and out the front door for a bit of quiet.

  She rested a hand on his arm to steer him in that direction, using her elbow to open the door. Her breath was stolen instantly from the biting cold. Linc didn’t seem to mind, though, and stepped to the side where he continued his conversation.

  Quinn wished she’d left the club soda inside. Her palm was practically a block of ice. She attempted to switch hands, but now she’d just made both palms numb. She didn’t want to miss a word of Linc’s conversation, though. It was evident that he was speaking with the Sheriff Hopkins. The last she’d heard, the sheriff had accompanied Dean on the stakeout of Olivia’s house.

  “Evans is talking to him now, getting the details on when the last time it was that he heard from Rhonda.” Linc waved his hand, motioning for her to come closer. She closed the distance between them, and he wrapped an arm around her to help keep her warm. “Everyone else who was scheduled to work tonight is here and accounted for, but I’ll suggest to Brighton that he should reach out to the other employees who have the night off. Maybe one of
them has heard from her.”

  Quinn rested her cheek against Linc’s sweater, figuring they’d be given odd looks if anyone saw them out here without jackets. The alley still had banks of snow shoveled against the buildings on either side so that the garbage trucks could reach the dumpers. Maybe it was the cold, but there was no odor the way she would have associated with a back alley. It did look as if the dumper was ready to be emptied, though.

  A gust of wind had her shifting to the other side of Linc in an attempt to get out of its way. In doing so, she caught sight of a black shoe.

  Odd, really.

  Homelessness was rare in Winter Heights, especially with the large shelter that had opened up on the west side of town a year or so ago.

  “I’ll keep you posted on my end,” Linc said into his phone. “Is the news van still parked outside of Olivia Harper’s house? No? That’s good. The unsub might be inclined to see if she’s inside to find out exactly what she said to us.”

  With Linc finishing up the call, Quinn couldn’t bring herself to go inside without making sure that the black shoe wasn’t actually connected to a real live person. She held her breath, more in attempt to keep herself warm, as she stepped away from Linc. She tiptoed quickly through the mush in front of the dumpster, careful not to spill any of the club soda over her already ice-cold hand.

  Quinn’s gaze was locked on the black shoe, so it took a moment for her mind to sort out the scene before her. Her body reacted physically at first, and the muscles in her hand lost the grip she had on her drink, causing the glass to fall to the ground. The shattering shards splintered into a piercing echo, bouncing off the buildings as if trying to escape the horror that had been left behind.

  Rhonda hadn’t been missing at all.

  The animated bartender had been here all along, her lifeless body left beside a dumpster as if she was nothing but a piece of garbage. Quinn could feel Linc pull her back against him as he was yelling something into his phone, all the while attempting to shield her from a sight that would forever remain burned in her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Rhonda’s vehicle is nowhere to be found,” Evans said, after having pulled Linc to the other side of the alley. Between the state forensics team and the medical examiner, the relatively small area was filled with techs attempting to do their jobs in adverse conditions. They were professionals, though, and not one of them complained about the dropping temperatures. “I’ve notified the patrols with an updated BOLO for tonight.”

  “The unsub lost control,” Linc stated, wishing he had a heavier jacket than the one he’d brought with him when leaving Quantico. He’d sent Quinn inside immediately, asking her to send Evans outside while he secured the crime scene. “Rhonda must have figured out his identity, and he needed to keep her quiet. He’s not convinced that Olivia gave his name to the police.”

  Why was that?

  Linc had been stuck on that question for the past hour, and he couldn’t come up with the answer. The key had to be tied to the reason of the unsub’s catalyst, though Linc no longer believed that Tamara Johnson had something to do with the beginning of his killing spree. She just happened to be his first victim.

  Was Rhonda tied to the unsub’s catalyst?

  “Look at the way the victim was rested against the side of the building.” Linc waited for medical examiner to shift away from Rhonda’s body. “She meant something to him.”

  Evans raised an eyebrow at Linc’s suggestion, but he wisely took the time to study the crime scene. It was rare that recruits in the academy had a chance to witness this type of carnage outside of photographs. He surveyed the scene accurately, too.

  “I understand why you would assume the unsub we’re hunting is the same one who killed Rhonda, especially considering that her purse was left in her lap. This wasn’t a robbery, but the unsub didn’t leave his calling card. There was no rose to be found when we canvassed the area. I even checked inside and under the dumpster.”

  It was unfortunate for the forensics team when a crime scene took place in an alley. Everything had to be tagged and bagged for evidence, and that included all the contents in all the dumpsters. Evans was right about the rose, but there was a reason if one believed the profile that Linc had created based on past killings.

  “The unsub didn’t leave a rose with Rhonda because she wasn’t a widow.” Linc would have preferred to have this conversation inside, but he was the lead on this part of the investigation until Dean could arrive. That wouldn’t happen until morning, after the operation at Olivia Harper’s residence concluded at sunrise. He would then bring in Dwight and most likely one of the state detectives to monitor the area until further notice. No one was going anywhere until the unsub was apprehended. “The rose is a ritual the unsub performs, most likely a parting gift for the widow as she heads into the afterlife to be reunited with her husband.”

  “If what you’re saying is true, then the unsub just committed his first murder.”

  “That’s right,” Linc replied warily, thinking back over the day’s events. He once again visualized what could have taken place in the alley. “The unsub worried that what Quinn revealed about Olivia on the podcast was true, but why come here? Why seek out Rhonda?”

  “What if the unsub wasn’t here for Rhonda?”

  Linc considered Evans’ suggestion, his train of thought, and how he was going about the different scenarios. His logic confirmed everyone’s belief that this deputy would make a hell of a federal agent.

  “Go on,” Linc encouraged, wanting to hear a different perspective. Besides, concentrating on anything other than the dropping temperatures was better than shivering his ass off. “Why would the unsub show up at the pub?”

  “Assuming that he wasn’t already here, what if the unsub was aware that the newspaper was having their annual event? Roger Ellington holds it every year, usually at one of the local restaurants. Since the pub’s opening and renovations, this is the place to rent rooms for private parties.”

  “You’re saying the unsub was here to talk to Quinn.” Linc could see where Evans would consider that angle. There was one important factor written in the profile that they couldn’t ignore. “According to the profile, he trusts Quinn.”

  “Which means there would have been no reason to seek her out.” Evans tapped his hand in frustration against his winter jacket, which was a lot heavier and warmer than the one Linc was wearing. The young man was hard on himself, but that would only give him the fuel to make it through the academy. “We’ve done a background check on every single employee, and not one of them fits the profile.”

  Another piece of the puzzle fell into the palm of Linc’s hand.

  “Was Rhonda dating anyone?” Linc asked, mentally scrolling through the profile he’d crafted over the last couple of months. “You were feeding Dwight names of individuals to look into, but did any of the staff have someone they were dating who caught your attention? A husband, maybe?”

  “Husband?”

  Linc nodded, the threads finally being tied together.

  “Yes, husband. I’ve been saying to Dean that there had to be a catalyst that caused the unsub to start killing. A marriage could have easily triggered the response.” Linc acknowledged the medical examiner when she said that she was finished and ready to transport the body. The forensics team would be here a while longer, though. They were still collecting every filthy item left in the alleyway. “Find out what you can on that front, and then meet me back at the station. It’s going to be a long night.”

  It took another hour for the forensics team to wrap up the crime scene, though the alleyway would be cornered off for a couple more days as a precaution.

  Linc waited until the very last person had left the alleyway and ensured that the yellow tape was secured before making his way back inside the pub. The state detectives that had been called in to help had stationed a car at either end of the alley. They had systemically identified and questioned all those in attendance
before sending them on their way, leaving behind Brighton and Quinn.

  Linc found both of them at the bar, along with a waiting cup of hot coffee for him.

  “Agent Roche?”

  Linc had taken off his gloves upon entering the back door, and he rested a hand on Quinn’s shoulder before walking around the bar to where one of the state detectives was waiting for him.

  “I appreciate your help this evening, Detective Eckerson,” Linc said, shaking the man’s hand. “We’re stretched thin right now.”

  “We had one of our techs look over the security system.” The detective thinned his lips while leveling a rather guarded glance in Brighton’s direction. “It was definitely shut off at some point today. Whoever did it, he or she had access to the back office.”

  Linc figured as much, and he’d gone over several possibilities of who it could have been to disable the cameras. He had to question Brighton one more time to corroborate his suspicions, but the medical examiner had already confirmed part of it.

  “Brighton’s been cleared,” Linc responded, not wanting any more harm to come to the man’s business. “He wasn’t the one who turned off the cameras. I think the victim did it herself.”

  His statement garnered the state detective’s full attention.

  “She was a user,” Detective Eckerson surmised, connecting dots that weren’t technically there. Linc and Evans had already ruled out Rhonda’s dealer as the perp, though. “I can run down some dealers in the area if you—”

  “We have it covered,” Linc responded with a shake of his head. “We’ve had a guy undercover here for the past month. We knew she was using and who she was buying from three weeks ago after a pattern emerged. Her death had nothing to do with her habit. Again, I appreciate the help tonight.”

  Linc walked the detective to the front door, locking up after he vacated the premises to ensure no one else entered while he finished talking with Brighton. A few questions would confirm the angle they were working, and then he and Quinn could head back to the station.