Quinn

by Doyle, Dawn

  I plonked down on the edge of my bed, cradling my head in my hands. “I don’t need this right now.”

  “Yeah, you do,” he said, then continued. “I told my mom not to worry because I’d protect you.” The sounds of footsteps drew closer, nearing me, then stopped, Josh’s figure appearing at my side. His hand rested on my shoulder. “But you haven’t needed that for a long time, Quinn. Not until now. Only this time, the only person you need protecting from is yourself.”

  I stood, and shoulder barged him out of the way, hearing Josh’s grunt with the impact. “We’ve got shit to deal with, so let’s do this before it’s too late.”

  “And what about Kinsley? Are you gonna tell her the truth?” he yelled out.

  I continued walking but spoke over my shoulder as Josh followed. “What truth?”

  Josh snorted behind me as he caught up. “Don’t play dumb with me. You might hide how you feel from everyone else, but I can see through the bullshit.”

  I grabbed my hoodie and keys, then headed out of the door toward his SUV. “Good for you.”

  ***

  Josh pulled the SUV around the back of an old building in Westhead Boulevard, Dover City, the rundown area derelict and abandoned some time ago. I didn’t know the area, I just knew that some shit went down last year, something about cars being stolen to order and getting shipped off. A huge fucking mess had escalated, resulting in a few wannabe gangsters getting arrested and sent down for a hell of a long time.

  “He’s meeting us here?” I asked, looking around the place. Lots of broken windows, bare steel, and graffiti that looked like kindergarteners had been let loose with spray paint. Crumbling walls surrounded us, the battered surfaces still bearing the scars from whatever had been used to break them. Just like me, but my scars were hidden, lying underneath, not seen but still there.

  “Yeah. He thinks we’re selling some new brand of pot. Dumb fuck wants to be cool by getting the first sample.” Josh laughed. “I can’t believe he fell for that.”

  “Rich boys and their new toys,” I said with a snort, leaning back against the seat. My back was aching from sleeping in there overnight. “Gotta have them first before anyone else. They can’t help themselves.” I zipped up my hoodie all the way, Kinsley’s scent still on it, my head swimming with thoughts of her with every breath I took.

  “Ready to do this?” Layton asked, pulling on his black mask. He strapped his device around his neck, then slipped on his gloves.

  “He’s gonna show in a few, so let’s go,” Josh said, opening the door.

  I pulled on my mask, tugged my hood low, and got out of the car. “He’s gonna regret laying a fucking hand on my girl.”

  “Here we are, boys,” Layton said through his voice changer, his arms stretched wide as we walked into a small, empty room.

  Josh turned full circle. “I just love the ambiance. So inviting.”

  I grinned under my mask and let out a quiet laugh. I pulled the thin string attached to the light, casting a dull spotlight in the center. I grabbed the old chair and dragged it across the floor, the sounds of wooden legs scraping against cold concrete, grating and sharp, delicious in the dank and musty space. I set it directly under the low glow and sat down, facing the closed doorway, staring at the peeling red paint on the rotting door.

  “Hey!” a voice came from outside, close but still too far away. “Where the fuck are you? I’ve got the cash, so hurry the fuck up. I haven’t got all fucking night.” I nodded once, and Layton banged on the door from our side. Two knocks, a pause, then another two, the code to let Owen know where we were. “Oh, so I’ll come to you.” His entitled complaint laced with sarcasm had me ready to just beat his ass there and then.

  Layton pulled the door open, standing behind it, Josh next to him, giving Owen full view of me sitting there, all in black, facing him. The hinges creaked, the eerie sounds growing creepier as the outside came into view.

  My blood boiled instantly when I saw him standing there in his khaki slacks, a navy polo shirt, and a thick parka jacket to keep out the biting cold. The price tags on his designer clothes alone could pay a month’s rent on our place. Not conspicuous at all.

  “God, this place is a fucking shit hole.” He took a few steps inside, the click of his loafers on the hard floor echoing in the room, bouncing off the bare-bricks. “You got what I came for?” he asked, walking further, running a hand over his slicked-back hair, his presence making me sick.

  I nodded, then reached into my pocket, pulling out a clear bag with green flakes inside, the mix of dried herbs I’d been preparing on the counter when Kinsley had come over. “Two-hundred.” My distorted voice made him rear back.

  “Okay, robo dude,” he said with a frown.

  I eyed him, watching his every move, every twitch, every tick… He was nervous and had every reason to be. He dug his hands into the pockets of his overly puffed up jacket, the size seeming to inflate him as he moved. I knew different. He pulled out two bills and threw them to the ground in front of him. “Do you think I’m going to pick them up?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “I’m not your fucking lapdog, prick. Pick them up and hand them to me like a normal fucking person.”

  Owen straightened, his smirk gone and his mouth open. “I’m here to pick up pot. I’m a fucking customer, so I’ll hand over the cash how I fucking want.”

  I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Is that so? Is that how you treat everybody? How you fucking want?” I drew out.

  He took another step forward. “Money talks, so yeah, I’ll do what the fuck I want,” he sneered, a smile spreading across his pathetic face. Piercing eyes looked over me, small irises, enlarged pupils in the lack of light, staring at me, meaning to intimidate.

  He had no fucking idea what he’d just walked in to.

  I dipped my chin, and the door slammed, the others moving so fast the hinges didn’t have time to protest. I sat back in the chair, the wooden slats uncomfortable across my back.

  Owen spun around and rushed to the door. “What the fuck are you doing?” He fought against Layton and Josh, trying to get past them. “Let me out!”

  “You haven’t paid enough,” I said, making him pause.

  “I did. Two hundred, right there!” he yelled, pointing to the crisp bills lying in a damp spot where algae had formed.

  “You can’t buy your way out of retribution,” I said, pushing myself up to my feet. Layton and Josh shoved him toward me, leaving a few feet between us. “Debts need to be paid, Owen, and yours are overdue.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he screeched. “Who are you?”

  I laughed and crossed my arms over my chest. “Do you recall an old student at your college?” I asked. “You might remember her. Kinsley Jensen.”

  Owen paled, his skin turning five shades whiter than it already was, sweat breaking out across his forehead and trickling down the sides of his face. “S-she left,” he explained, swallowing hard. His breaths came hard and fast, gulping down air. “I-I haven’t seen her since. Pretty sure she moved.” His hands moved out to his sides, his eyes darting left and right, then searching the room. Maybe for more of us, who knew, but that was the least of his problems.

  There was only one person that was going to deal with him, and that was me.

  “Oh, you know she did.” I kept my voice low, the changer making it unnaturally deep. I didn’t need that, though. I took the last few steps between us, my plain black, brand-less sneakers making no sound. Owen sucked in a sharp breath, his beady eyes fixed on my covered face. “Because of you.”

  I curled my fingers, pulled my elbow back sharply, and rammed my fist into his gut. He doubled over, winded, choking for air. I held the back of his head, and brought my knee up hard, slamming it into his face. He fell back, his arms and legs sprawled out, his eyes shut.

  “And, he’s out,” Josh said, crossing his arms back and forth while Layton whooped.

  “Got the rope?” I asked, and he
ld my hand out when Layton pulled it from the black backpack.

  “You’re not going to play for a while first?” Josh asked, rubbing his hands.

  I shook my head. “Unfortunately, people are gonna be looking for him come tomorrow night, so we’re gonna have to sacrifice our fun times.”

  Layton stood over Owen’s still body. “Shame. I can imagine him screaming just like that guy last year.”

  I grinned. That twisted bastard had laid his hands on his wife like my dad had done to my mom. He’d regretted it the moment he’d met me at the circle. I relished in the thought that he’d never recover from having both of his arms broken at the elbow, and his hands smashed beyond repair. The circle was the only way I could get away with teaching him a lesson without it going further than Clover Farm.

  “He’ll wake up soon. Let’s get this fucker in the chair and set up the camera. We gotta get his confession, no matter how long it takes.” And I hoped it’d take a fucking long time. What he’d done to Kinsley, and maybe to other girls, was going to be aired for all to see. He wasn’t going to get away with it any longer.

  Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The perks of being Owen fucking Stanford were going to be over. In the single push of a button.

  And I couldn’t fucking wait.

  Chapter 13

  Kinsley

  “Owen’s gone missing.”

  I looked up from my cereal, then back down, watching the last honey loops floating in the sugar-laced milk. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” my mom asked incredulously, her hands pressing on the table. “He’s been gone for two days, nobody saw anything, and you just say okay?”

  I shrugged a shoulder. “What do you want me to say, Mom?” I looked up again. “Oh, no, poor Owen, I hope he’s found safe and well,” I said, sweeter than my breakfast and with more sarcasm than necessary for the morning.

  My mom pursed her lips, then stabbed a hand to her hip. “Where’s Quinn?”

  I shrugged a shoulder and looked down again, finishing the last solitary loop, swallowing the now gooey mess, trying not to show how hearing his name sent a knife through my heart. “How should I know?” I asked, my body draining of heat as though I’d already bled out. “Why don’t you use your resources to find out?”

  “Kinsley, that’s enough,” she snapped. “I have my reasons for checking him out, and it’s not all for what I told you!”

  I bore my gaze into her, holding back the snarl that threatened to show itself. I’d never acted that way toward my mother, never in my entire life, but what I felt right then wasn’t just anger. It was a massive helping of disappointment, a dash of betrayal, and a generous topping of hurt. I didn’t like that kind of dessert, and I doubted she would either.

  “I don’t care,” I ground out.

  “You could’ve kept it to yourself.”

  “So could you,” I retorted. “But we decided to do the right thing and admit it. Yay us.”

  My mom took a long, deep breath through her nose and blew it out the same way, her control slipping. I’d seen it before when she’d been on the phone to one of her clients. “I did it for you,” she said, her voice low, courtroom style like she was about to hit me with some knowledge. “Do you have any idea what goes on in this town?”

  I stared up at the ceiling and ran my tongue over the sides of my teeth, capturing loose cereal inside my cheek. “Well, we’re here, so I should really, huh?” If she was referring to the circle, then I was ready to deny any and all knowledge. It wasn’t in this town, anyway, so I wasn’t exactly sure what she was getting at.

  “Do you know Mr. Cunningham?”

  My eyes slipped to her, then my head moved to join them. “He teaches math at college, why?” He was Quinn’s professor, that’s all I knew.

  She pressed both hands down again. “I’m currently prosecuting his son.”

  My stomach flipped, but there was no reason for it. “Okay?” Apprehension churned inside of me, and I swallowed it down.

  “I have all the evidence I could ever need to put him in jail, and it was just handed over. Don’t you think that’s a little odd?”

  I shrugged again, my go-to move these days. “Depends on the circumstances?”

  “Mr. Cunningham handed it in to the police, and now I have it in my possession.”

  “Where’s this going, Mom?” I asked, standing from the table. “I’m sure you’re not about to discuss a confidential case with me right now, you know, considering I’m not involved.” She’d said that to me in the past whenever I asked her about her work. “It’s confidential, honey. I’m not allowed to discuss with anybody not directly involved with the case.” I took my bowl to the sink and began washing.

  “I have photos of the inside of his house. Could you take a look at one for me?”

  I threw my head back and sighed with exasperation. “Mom, please, I just need to go to school.”

  She appeared beside me and showed me a security image. A guy standing by a large desk, wearing a black hooded jacket with a matching mask over his face. I spotted the silver emblem before my mom pointed it out. My stomach rolled.

  “You’ve seen that before, right? Quinn’s hoodie has the same branding.”

  I went back to my dishes. “Well, I’m pretty sure that the company that produced those hoodies made more than one to turn a profit. I could be wrong, though, they could’ve made a single custom item, just for Quinn, so he could break into people’s houses. Yeah, that makes so much sense,” I said sarcastically. “Wear the only item in the damn world that would identify you.”

  My mom’s jaw worked as she held her temper. “There was no break-in, Kinsley,” she said, tapping the photo. “This person used a key. The image is being used by David Cunningham’s defense. He said that the evidence was planted to frame him by whoever this was. Ridiculous, really, when the dates on the evidence span over two years.”

  “And I suppose you’re gonna tell me about those images?” I deadpanned. “Fabulous.”

  “Enough!” she yelled, the sudden high volume ringing in my ears. “I have a job to do, Kinsley, and the real reason I looked into Quinn, is because David said this is him. This was taken from David’s security camera in his bedroom at his father’s house in the next town from here.”

  “I don’t know who that is,” I replied, swallowing hard. “All in black, no defining features on show, and…” I looked closer at the image, drying my hands and holding the corners to study it. “…no reflection in the mirror on the wall that shows anything else, nothing coming from the window—this could be anybody.” The large wooden desk was covered in books, papers, and an open laptop with stickers of West Bridge College on the back. That place was miles away in Bridge End, at least two hours from here in the opposite direction from Crosshall. I stared at the dark figure, their height, the way they stood, the width of their frame… It was possible. “Also, it’s a bit weird for somebody to have a camera in their room, don’t you think?”

  My mom nodded. “And that’s why I showed you,” she said, pointing at my face, her tone softer. “I’m going for the maximum sentence.”

  “What did this David do?” I asked, still looking at the photo.

  “It’s going to be in the news later today, so I can tell you.” She took the image from me. “He took photos and videos of girls and posted them in private groups on various social media accounts. They came from his phone, and even from the same camera that the image is from.” She pointed to the photo on the counter.

  I wanted to throw up, the taste of honey loops and coffee already making their way up my throat. “Girls?”

  “From his college and the surrounding area…” her eyes cast down. She’d seen what he’d done; it was written all over her solemn expression. “In the back of his car, bedroom, dorm room, public bathrooms, amongst other places. I don’t need to explain what various things they’d be doing.”

  I held my hand over my mouth. “And he shared these?”

  My mom nodded. �
��Over ten thousand people are members of this group, Kinsley, and he shared these sickening images with them. Every single one. His laptop was delivered by his own father with the photos and videos from his security camera.”

  “How did you find his account?” I asked, wondering if the person in the photo had led them to them.

  My mom chuckled. “No need for passwords. David’s social media accounts were already open, giving us full access to the group.”

  “Oh, God.” I ran out of the kitchen and to the bathroom nearby, losing the warm undigested contents of my stomach down the bowl, burning my throat on the way out as my muscles wrung me dry.

  Those poor girls, violated thousands of times over without even knowing about it, now aware that people around them had become familiar with their bodies without their permission.

  My mind flicked back to Owen, and my mom’s announcement. He was missing. Quinn had been gone from college the past couple of days…

  I washed my mouth and ran to my room. I picked up my phone and swiped the screen, re-reading the recent text from Quinn.

  ‘I have to go out of town for a couple of days. I need to talk to you when I get back.’

  Talk about what?

  I made it to my bathroom just in time to vomit again, nothing coming up but bile and water I’d drank from the previous purge.

  “Honey,” my mom said when I reached the front door. I stopped with my hand on the handle. “I never looked into Quinn for the reason I said. It was because of this. I slipped up, so I had to say something. I never meant to hurt you, sweetheart.”

  “I understand,” I said, and I meant it. “But you could’ve told me the truth. That way, I wouldn’t have opened my mouth.”

  “Yes, you would, because you’re my daughter, and I’d do the same.”

  I smiled, but even though my temper had dissipated, it didn’t reach my eyes. “Bye, Mom.”

  ***