by Cameron Dane
Alex looked like he digested something foul, and his jaw clenched some more, but he finally nodded. “I guess that's fair.”
“Start talking.”
“I honestly don't know or have ever crossed paths with either woman when they were alive.” Alex's voice held no subterfuge or defensive edge, and his eyes remained focused on Jace. “I learned about Quinten a few months ago when I was surfing the Internet. But not for real estate. You were correct about that.” He blinked and looked away for a moment, pausing, and then turned back. “I read an article posted on the blog of a Montana independent 'news'”—he put his fingers up in quotes—“source titled 'Quinten, the Queerest Little Town in Montana.'” His lips pulled down in hard lines. “It was condescending and made everything sound rather incestuous and like your sheriff was some leftist radical for having a gay deputy on his staff and that the deputy was carrying on and living with the sheriff's homosexual son. It mentioned the two Hawkins brothers having male partners and that the third embraced homosexuals working his land too, and that the straight cowboys who didn't like it were fired, and the ones who stayed couldn't say a word against working with queers. It was clearly meant to be a searing judgment on a forced liberal agenda in your town, but I didn't see it that way.”
Once again, Alex stopped for a moment. He scratched at his jaw, and his eyes deepened in color. “It had just the opposite effect on me, Deputy, because I'm gay.” He dropped that bit of information in a rough voice. “Made me want to build here and contribute to the town.” He leaned forward and produced his cell phone. “I can show you the link to the article, if you need to see it.”
“Not necessary.” Jace tilted his head and cracked his neck. “I'm aware of it.” Ever since that blog turned up, they'd had to change the county-limit signs when, every so often, someone would spray paint QUEERTEN over the name QUINTEN. “Do you have a boyfriend I can talk to in order to corroborate your claims?” he asked, shifting them back on track. He didn't quite cover the dry tone in his voice. “It's awfully convenient that I have two dead female prostitutes and your proof of innocence is that you aren't sexually attracted to women.”
“I don't have a boyfriend,” Alex said. The first glint of light sparked in his deep green eyes. “I suppose I could deep throat your cock to prove it, but I somehow don't think that would be accepted into evidence.”
It wasn't professional, but Jace chuckled anyway.
“Listen, Deputy, in this instance, I'm going to ask you to look at me and just see that I am innocent. The only other thing I can give you is the date I contacted Mr. Compton with an interest at looking at his property. That was a month ago. I made the call from Atlanta, and I'm sure he and the phone company can confirm it.” Just as quickly as the flash of light lit Alex's eyes, his gaze turned hard within another blink. “I won't give you the name of any man I've been with as proof of what I like. A very few of my most trusted people know I am gay, but otherwise, I am not open. My private life is just that, private, and only for me. I would be no more open to displaying my partners were I heterosexual. Part of that is my personality, and the other is that business is business. The people I do business with don't know a damn thing about my personal life any more than they know the lives of my associates. It's how we keep the company running smoothly and without drama.”
“And you want it to remain that way.”
“If I can.” Alex dipped his head. “I don't think releasing my sexuality to the public as part of an investigation update will help solve this case.”
“Unless it really is you, and you are right now very cleverly bullshitting me.”
Alex looked Jace up and down, studied him with an uncomfortable scrutiny, and shook his head. “You don't think it's me. You did when I walked in, but you no longer do.”
Jace quirked a brow. “Reading people part of your job too, Quick?”
“Absolutely.” He answered without hesitation. “I would have been swindled out of my money a hundred times over by now if I didn't. Besides”—he crossed his arms—“a piece of you has to know that Sarah wouldn't like me if I were too big an asshole. Or something worse. She has good judgment too, and you know it.”
“Don't use Sarah to get at me.” Jace lost any trace of humor in his voice. “That would be a big mistake.”
Shifting upright, Alex warded Jace off with a raised hand. “Wasn't meant in that way. I apologize.”
“Accepted.”
“Can I go now?”
“Go ahead.” Jace nodded at the door, but then went ahead and stood himself. “Don't leave town,” he added as he released Alex from questioning.
“No chance of that,” Alex answered, looking at Jace over his shoulder. “I still have land to buy.”
Max waited in the hallway to receive Alex. “Sir.” She lifted her arm in the direction of the bull pen and let him move first. “If you follow me, I'll show you and your attorney out. The sheriff was unexpectedly called away.”
As Jace watched another lead walk out the door, he gnashed his teeth and banged his head against the wall, praying for the answer to shake loose. He'd been so certain Alex would turn into their guy while he and Duke waited for the man to arrive. Shit, the more he'd spun the scenario he'd shared with Alex, the more he felt like it made a twisted kind of sense. Use one prostitute to kill another.
Now, it went back in the file with all the other dead ends.
Fuck.
“So?” Max joined him and leaned against the opposite wall. “What did he say one-onone?” She pulled her long hair back and tied it in a bun. “Do you think it's him and had to let him go, or he's not our guy?”
“The dude has some secrets he'd rather keep to himself, but he's not the killer.” Jace unlocked the war room door and let himself inside. “Just like ten other times, we're back to square one.”
“Not square one,” Max corrected. She took a seat across from him at the table. “We've eliminated a lot of suspects and learned a lot about our victims. In the long run, that's going to help. I liked your theory anyway.” She grabbed a piece of scratch paper and folded it in an accordion pleat. “It was starting to sound legit to me.”
Jace still had a sour taste in his mouth. “Not that it did us any good.”
“Still, I mean, the guy lives in Boston and at the very least the fact that our second vic was from there is something to sit up and make anyone take notice. You weren't off base in wanting to link those two things together due to location.” Max suddenly jerked up like a pointer dog and zeroed in on the piles of files sitting on the table. “Wait a minute. Wait wait wait wait wait.” She started searching through papers frantically, mumbling without looking up. “What if you were right?”
“Alexander Quick isn't our killer.” As much as Jace hated admitting that he could be so wrong, he knew it was the truth.
“No no. Not that. Not the guy.” Excitement infused Max's voice as she shuffled through papers at the speed of light. “But what if your theory was dead-on, and you just had the wrong person?” Her eyes lit with success. She held up a photocopied picture and tapped the black-andwhite face. “I think it's this guy.”
Jace snatched the paper out of her hand.
* * * *
Cade tucked his notepad in his shirt pocket. “Thanks again for your time.” He stood in the living room of Mr. and Mrs. Lynd, Ginger's neighbors who had been out of town earlier in the week. “I'm sorry for your loss.”
“We're sorry to have lost such a good neighbor,” Mrs. Lynd replied. “We wish we could say we saw something and help.” “Have—” Cade was going to say, Have a good afternoon, but not for the first time since entering the Lynd house, their twelve-year-old son gave him another fast, nervous glance from the couch across the open room. Cade gritted his teeth against saying something; he knew his scars scared some people. Often, kids. Then he noticed the boy tear his attention away from his mother talking to a deputy, put it down on his cell phone sitting in his lap, and move his hand to cover the device.
Holy mother of God.
“Dale,” Cade said as he approached the boy. His mother had introduced the boy after inviting Cade inside. “Is there something you'd like to tell me?” He stooped in front of the kid. “Maybe show me?”
“N-n-no.” The boy's face burned with color. He looked to his mother and pushed the phone between his legs. “There's nothing.”
Cade looked over his shoulder at Mrs. Lynd. “May I have permission to look at your son's cell phone?”
“Of course.” Mrs. Lynd stretched out her hand and gave her son one of those “mother” looks. The kid handed it over with fingers that shook like crazy. As soon as Cade saw the first picture stored in the memory, he knew why the kid was terrified. Twenty-some-odd pictures later, Cade found the one he needed. His heart raced as he shot to his feet.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
* * * *
Sarah approached Peter Robbins with a smile on her face. After all, the guy might not be from around here, but he could still write a check for the youth center. He also seemed to have some pull with Danny's parents, and she wanted to have a quiet conversation with Peter about seeing if he could guide the Carltons toward letting their son return to his various classes at the center. She thought it would be good for him to be around his friends who just wanted to hang with their buddy again.
“Mr. Robbins.” She kept her tone pleasant and approachable. “May I speak with you?” “Certainly.” He took her elbow and guided her to a quiet corner. “And please, call me Peter.”
A little twist of bad taste curdled in Sarah's throat. She knew Jace didn't like the guy, but at
the same time, that distaste didn't negate the bond Peter had formed with Ginger's family. He has an in that I need.
She smiled again and dived right in. “I'd like to speak to you about the youth center. But
more than that, about Danny…”
* * * *
“The psychic?” Jace asked. He held the photocopy of Peter Robbins's picture in his hand as he paced and looked from it to Max. “Lay it out. How did you figure?”
“The man assisted on a murder case in Cambridge,” Max answered. “It didn't ring a bell right away because it's not Boston itself, but”—she jabbed her finger at the paper she held— “Cambridge is right outside of Boston. You just have to drive across a bridge to get there. Guess when he was on that case?” She raised a brow and held up the evidence for him to see. “Seven months ago, right before Sonya Mayer went missing.”
“Shit.” Jace flew high for a second then crashed back down to earth. “But that's not when Ginger was there.”
“No. But maybe…maybe…maybe…” Max shuffled through more papers, scanning back and forth, back and forth, between three sheets. “Damn it! Yes. Look here.” She leaned across the table to where he stood and pointed at another line of information. “Ginger went to Austin three months ago. And guess who was helping out on a missing-persons case in Austin?”
“Son of a bitch.” The air whooshed right out of Jace's lungs as the puzzle pieces started falling into place. “That's it. It's him. It has to be. What a sick fuck. He murders a woman, then comes and ingratiates himself into the victim's family? I don't care about his fucking alibi. He must have somehow manipulated buying that movie ticket. He somehow came here, killed Ginger and Sonya, and then went back home and flew back in on Monday morning to become a hero for the Carltons.” Adrenaline got Jace moving, Max hot on his heels. “Shit, I don't know the travel time, but I bet he could have driven here and back to San Francisco so he didn't leave a trail. He's clever enough to do it.”
“Of course he could.” Max kept up with Jace's pace. “Easy enough to check. I bet it's something like fifteen hours.”
Shit shit shit. “Where's the boss?” Jace asked.
“Scene of a car accident.”
Jace pushed out of the station and started to run. “That murdering son of a bitch Robbins is at the youth center right now. We can't wait. We'll have to call the sheriff and let him know what's going on.” He tore his cell off his belt, but it rang before he could call. He saw the name and answered. “Listen, Cade—”
“I just talked to the boss.” Cade talked right over Jace. “Meet me at the youth center; I'm on my way there now. You'll never fucking believe what I have on the cell phone of the kid across the street from where Ginger lived.”
“A picture of Peter Robbins murdering her.” Jace snarled and ran at the same time, Max at his side. A two-block sprint to the place would go a lot faster than if they'd gone around back of the station for one of the vehicles.
“Close enough,” Cade answered. “I have a very blond guy who looks an awful lot like Peter in a dark Silverado parked on the street in front of Ginger's house. Apparently Ginger didn't close her curtains all the way, and the kid across the street has been collecting nudie pictures of her. The boy was looking to spy on Friday night and got Peter picking her up instead.”
“Fuck. He dyed his hair. Twice. Clever little shit.” Jace pulled up, slowing the thundering of his boots into the concrete, until he finally came to a stop in front of the center. “We're here,” he told Cade. “Max and I are going to go inside and arrest him.”
“I'm almost there. Be cool,” Cade advised. “Try to get him outside away from the kids before you arrest him.”
“Will do.” Jace put his phone back on his belt and looked to Max. “You ready to do this, nice and easy?”
“Been ready since Ren and Jasper discovered Ginger's body.” She bounded up the dozen stairs and opened the door. “Let's go.”
Jace followed her inside.
Chapter Twenty-five
Through the clusters of people, Jasper was the first person Jace saw when he and Max entered the main room of the youth center. Sarah was the second, and his heart lodged right up into his throat. She stood away from the others and carried on a conversation with their murderer.
Okay, man, just stay calm and get the guy out of here before anyone else gets hurt. Jace could not possibly think of either Sarah or Jasper right now, so close to a killer, and still function at his job. Jasper spotted him moving through the crowd, grinned, and took a step forward. Jace made eye contact, offered a slight shake of his head, and Jasper stepped back. He hoped to hell Jasper didn't take his gesture as a rejection, but he couldn't care about bruised feelings right now.
As he and Max approached Sarah and Peter, Jace schooled his features to pleasant. Sarah looked like she had won the goddamn lottery the second she saw him. “Jace, hi!” She squeezed his forearm. “Everything go okay?” Sarah smiled at Deputy Stuart too. “Hi, Max.” Max winked. “Hey, Sarah.”
“Hi, honey,” Jace said. He even leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. After all,
he'd done it once in front of Peter already today; it might look suspicious and draw his attention if he kept Sarah at a distance. “Looks like the party is starting to wind down.”
“A bit,” Sarah replied. “But I'm glad to see you came back.” Peter finally spoke up. “If you'll excuse me?” He put his hand to the small of Sarah's back, and Jace just resisted tearing his whole arm off. “I should get back to the Carltons.”
“Actually”—Max eased in front of Peter—“if we could have a few minutes of your time, Mr. Robbins, that would be great.”
“I really do have to get back to the family,” Peter said. His focus shifted around the room, and Jace followed Peter's gaze to Cilla and Howard, looking like they accepted yet more condolences from well-meaning people. “I've neglected them long enough, and it looks like the afternoon has taken a toll on them.” Watching Peter's false concern made Jace's skin crawl. “If the sheriff would like to schedule some time to talk about some of the hazy pieces I'm receiving about this mysterious woman in Ginger's life, I can come by the station tomorrow.”
“The sheriff doesn't need anything scheduled,” Max said. “But if I could just have five minutes of your time right now, since we're both here? We could talk outside
where it's a little quieter.”
Peter looked apologetic and shrugged. “I simply can't right now, Deputy. I'm sorry.”
Damn it. Jace suppressed a growl of frustration and traded a look with Max. Getting the “we tried” visual exchange, he put his focus back on Peter. “I'm sorry to hear th—”
Peter's stare narrowed, and he looked past Jace. Jace followed to where Peter stared; Cade entered the youth center and walked toward them with a determined stride. It was then as if a mask slipped off Peter Robbins's face. “Ohhh, so it's like that, is it?” With the speed and shock of a starter gun at a race, Peter yanked Sarah to him with fingers twisted in her shirt and used his other hand to dig in under her jaw, lifting her head at an unnatural angle. Jace whipped out his weapon and managed to train it near Peter's head by refusing to look into Sarah's eyes. The heels she wore made her almost the same height as Peter and thus difficult to find a clean shot. Jace heard the whish of a gun pulling from a holster and knew Max had her gun aimed at Peter too.
Screams from adults and confusion among children who didn't understand what was going on created a cacophony of chaos behind Jace, but he drowned them out with one word in his head repeating over and over again. Focus focus focus.
Jace heard Cade say, “Ty, get these people out of here. Through the front, please.”
Peter circled the arm that had been at Sarah's back to around her waist and wrestled her to the right a dozen steps, toward the back exit, but didn't get anywhere close before stopping. “Put down those guns and stay back, or I will snap her neck.” He looked back and forth between Jace and Max. “What do you think you found?”
