“As if you don’t know,” Stu responded. “Come on.”
He nearly shoved Quinn through the door. Kate followed behind, stopping only to pick up her purse. She watched as two policemen started to go through the apartment.
As they walked out the door and down the front steps of the apartment building, Kate fished into her purse and pulled out her cellphone. She dialed Tim Anderson, who picked up on the first ring.
“They’ve arrested Quinn for killing Summer,” Kate said, and she tried not to think about the sheer unreality of the statement. She had never been a fan of Summer’s, but she had some sympathy toward her, particularly after their conversation late last year. She had never wished her dead.
“I know,” Tim responded.
“You could have warned us,” Kate said, unsurprised that he was already aware of the situation. Whatever sources he had in the police department, they were exceptional.
“Just found out about 20 seconds ago,” he said. “I suspect that was so that I could not, in fact, warn you.”
“Meet us there?” she asked. “With Holden’s lawyer, maybe?”
“I won’t need him,” Tim replied and hung up.
Kate wasn’t sure what to think of that.
She watched as Stu shoved Quinn into the back seat of the cruiser.
“You can take your own car,” Stu said. “Unless you want to go in handcuffs too.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Kate looked at Quinn through the window.
I’ll be right behind you, she thought.
I know, he replied. Is she really dead?
I don’t know. Probably.
All she felt from Quinn was a smoldering fury as the police car drove off. She jumped into their car and followed.
*****
Quinn sat in the interrogation room and waited. Stu had disappeared shortly after depositing him there in what was clearly an effort to make Quinn uncomfortable.
Instead, he just felt angry. Surprisingly, he wasn’t mad at the police. He was mostly mad at himself. He hadn’t murdered Summer, but she was dead because of him.
It’s not your fault, Kate’s voice was in his head.
Yes it is, Quinn replied. The minute we made that deal last year, we sealed her fate. How many people are dead because of us?
How many people are alive, Quinn? Kate responded. We stopped Lord Halloween, remember? How many more people would have died that night if we hadn’t killed him?
Quinn grudgingly accepted the truth of that statement.
Is it enough? Is there someone keeping a tally? Quinn asked.
If you want to blame someone, blame me, Kate thought.
Why?
The minute we knew Elyssa had contacted Summer, I should have guessed she was on their target list.
I still don’t understand why, Quinn thought. Why her? She’s no friend of ours. They must know that.
Look around you, Kate said. This is why.
I realize that, but what does it gain them? Quinn asked. Do they want me locked away? Even if I was, do they think a prison could hold me? It’s mid-October. We aren’t even at the height of our powers.
This is all about sending a signal, Kate responded. Maybe Summer was always supposed to be killed or maybe she didn’t go along with some other plan. I don’t know. But all they’re trying to do is show us what they are capable of.
All they’ve done is make me conclude you’re right, Quinn said. I had some hope that we could be free of this. That surrendering to them might actually be an answer. I was kidding myself. I washed away his other murders—Madame Zora, the banker and God knows who else—out of a selfish desire to get out of the bargain we made with Sanheim. But I can’t be a party to this. Summer was a good reporter—a good person. She didn’t deserve to die. Neither did the others. I won’t bow down to a murderer.
Kate didn’t get a chance to respond. The door to Quinn’s interrogation room opened and Stu stepped through. He seemed unusually pleased with himself.
“Guess who I just heard from?” Stu said.
Quinn sat there impassively.
“The Pope?” he asked.
Stu looked annoyed. “No.”
“Weird Al Yankovic?”
“What the hell? No,” Stu said. “I just…”
“Buffy the Vampire Slayer? I really want to get this right,” Quinn said.
“Shut up,” Stu said. “Shut up.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were playing a guessing game,” Quinn responded.
“We found your little book, asshole,” Stu said in a mocking tone of voice. “Who’s playing games now?”
“Which little book, Stu?” Quinn asked. “I have quite a few. Unlike you, I can read beyond a fifth grade level.”
“The Sanheim book,” Stu spat at him. He held up a piece of paper and read from it: “It appears to detail the legend of the Prince of Sanheim.”
“Yes,” Quinn said evenly. “So what?”
“So what?” Stu said. “Why would you have a secret book on the Prince of Sanheim unless you were the Prince of Sanheim, huh?”
“That is the best logic ever, Stu,” Quinn said. “Did you go to Police Academy? I mean the one with Steve Guttenburg and the guy who can make sound effects with his mouth.”
“Sure,” Stu said. “Play dumb. I can see you’re afraid.”
Quinn laughed at that.
“Oh, yes,” Quinn said. “Because there’s no other explanation except I’m the Prince of Sanheim. So if I owned, say, a book on Jack the Ripper, for example, that would make me Jack the Ripper? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Laugh all you want, you little dipshit,” Stu said. “We have you by the balls now. We have proof you were obsessed with the Prince of Sanheim. We know the other reporter was going to out you. That’s why you killed her, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
Quinn sighed.
“I’m not going to bother responding to you,” Quinn said. “You can get me a lawyer now.”
Stu looked stricken for a moment, but then quickly hid it.
“Just can’t man up and admit the truth, can you?” Stu tried.
“Do you think this is NYPD Blue or something?” Quinn asked. “You can’t annoy me into confessing. This conversation is over.”
“It’s just getting started,” Stu said, but he stood up and practically stomped out of the room.
I think Tim has other plans, Kate said.
Where is he then?
Strangely, he just walked into the building and walked right through to Sheriff Brown’s office.
He knows Sheriff Brown? Quinn asked.
Apparently, Kate replied. Seriously, he walked in like he owned the place. He nodded at me, but he didn’t even say hi.
This just keeps getting better and better. Why is he involved, anyway?
You heard him, Quinn. He said something about us not keeping our tracks covered very well. He worked in this town for a long time. He had good sources then. Clearly he still has them now.
But does that help us or hurt us? Quinn said.
We’re about to find out. Brown and Tim are coming your way. And apparently so am I. Tim just gestured for me to follow.
Two minutes later, four people entered the room. Stu was followed in by Sheriff Brown, Tim and Kate.
“He won’t talk without a lawyer, sir,” Stu said.
“Get us some chairs, Officer Redcliffe,” Brown replied.
Since Lord Halloween’s death, Brown had seen a surge in popularity. Quinn guessed that the recent murders might end that very quickly. The town had already lost its mind over one serial killer. News of another had everyone on edge.
Stu meekly complied and left the room.
“I understand you want a lawyer,” Brown said. “But Mr. Anderson here has some information that you might want to hear first.”
By this time Stu had returned carrying extra chairs. Brown curtly asked him to leave and, although he looked unhappy about it, Stu stalked off.
�
��Okay,” Quinn said, then gestured from Tim to Brown. “You two old friends?”
Tim smiled.
“Old enough,” he said cryptically.
Everyone sat down. Tim reached into his bag and pulled out a folder.
“When was Ms. Mandaville killed last night?” he asked.
“Estimates put it between 8 p.m. and 1 in the morning, “Brown replied. “Probably on the later side.”
Tim reached into the folder and pulled out a series of photos. The top two showed Kate and Quinn returning to their apartment through their front door. The photos looked like they had been taken from the parking lot. There was a time and date stamp at the bottom, showing Quinn and Kate walking in at exactly 6:47 p.m.
There were other photos underneath. Each had a time stamp of roughly five minutes apart, showing only a closed front door, lit by the hallway lights outside.
Quinn glanced through them, flipping until he found photos of police officers arriving at their apartment and knocking on the door. A photo then showed Quinn coming out in handcuffs at roughly 7:47 a.m.
“You’ve been watching us,” Quinn said to Tim, feeling stupid for stating the blindingly obvious.
“Yes,” Tim said. If he was ashamed, he didn’t show it. “I’ve told Sheriff Brown about the accusations Ms. Mandaville made against you, Quinn. I’ve had you under surveillance ever since.”
Quinn suspected he was lying. He would guess that they had been under surveillance for a lot longer than just a few days. Which raised the question: how much, exactly, did Tim Anderson know?
“As Sheriff Brown knows only too well, I have a long and sordid history with the killer who called himself Lord Halloween,” Tim continued. “I knew him quite well and would have considered him a friend. If I learned anything then, it was never to assume you know another person. I don’t know if Quinn is the Prince of Sanheim or not, but I know he wasn’t involved in what happened last night.”
“He could have come out the window,” Brown said. “He might have known he was being followed.”
“The windows are sliding glass—on the third floor of the apartment building,” Tim replied evenly. “It is difficult to imagine Mr. O’Brion could have gotten out, much less jumped down that far without hurting himself, and then magically found a way back up. I also want to be clear that I did not take these photos myself. I hired a private detective to do so. I’ve already contacted him. He would be happy to give the police any information they need to exonerate Mr. O’Brion.”
Kate had sat silently throughout this.
“Clearly these photos provide an alibi,” she said.
“For Ms. Mandaville’s death, yes,” Tim said. “My surveillance, alas, only goes back so far.”
“We didn’t have a motive,” Quinn said. “Yes, Summer had alleged I was the Prince of Sanheim. But you can listen to the tape of the conversation yourself, Sheriff. By the end of the interview, she said she wasn’t going to publish a story. Why would I kill her?”
“She could have changed her mind,” Tim said.
Quinn glared at him.
“Okay, whose side are you on?” Quinn asked.
“The side of the truth,” Tim said. “Did you kill Summer Mandaville?”
“No,” Quinn said. “Of course not.”
“Do you know who did?”
Quinn hesitated only a fraction of a second before he responded, “No,” again. But it was too late. He could see in Tim’s eyes that he didn’t believe it.
Surprisingly, however, Tim didn’t say anything. Instead, he looked strangely satisfied.
“There is, of course, another problem,” Tim said.
“Fantastic,” Quinn said sarcastically.
“This one helps you,” Tim said.
“Fantastic,” Quinn said again, this time with actual enthusiasm.
“According to the coroner’s report, Summer Mandaville wasn’t decapitated by a sword, which until now has been the Prince’s modus operandi,” Tim said. “She was mauled by a wild animal.”
Everyone in the room looked surprised.
“How do you know that already?” Brown asked.
“Mauled by a what?” Kate asked at the same time.
Tim looked nonchalant.
“I talked with the coroner on my way in,” Tim said. Again, if he was embarrassed, he didn’t show it.
“I haven’t even seen the report yet,” Brown said.
“The coroner owed me a favor,” Tim said. “He provided me with information that will be made public within a few days. The report will be on your desk within a few hours, Sheriff. But it will say what I just told you.”
“So she wasn’t murdered?” Brown asked.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Tim responded. “It’s clear she was lured out to Holober’s old house—Lord Halloween’s hiding spot—and her car was disabled. It looked like someone went underneath the vehicle and tore it up. So there’s plenty of evidence of foul play. Clearly the tip you received this morning was also placed by someone who wanted to blame Quinn for this. That suggests that whoever did so is, in fact, the real murderer.”
“Unfortunately, we weren’t able to trace it,” Brown said.
Tim nodded, as if he expected that.
“There was a tip?” Quinn asked.
“Of course,” Tim replied. “How else do you think the police so quickly decided you did it?”
Quinn had a sarcastic answer to that about the geniuses at work on the force, but decided not to offer it given the current company.
“The only thing that is clear now is that my reporters don’t appear to be involved in any way,” Tim said.
If Brown noticed that Tim had said “reporters,” plural, rather than just referring to Quinn, he didn’t remark on it.
“It’s time to let Mr. O’Brion go,” Tim concluded.
Brown nodded.
“We have some paperwork to clear up first,” he said. “Mr. O’Brion, I’ll put you in a room where you can be more comfortable, but it will take a few hours to clear everything up. In the meantime, I’d appreciate it if you could provide any information on the Prince of Sanheim. My officers tell me they found several books in your possession, including one written in your own hand.”
“Of course,” Quinn said. “Obviously, Kate and I have been doing some research of our own.”
Brown nodded and stood up. Tim looked at Kate and Quinn.
“I’ll expect to see the two of you in my office later today,” he said. “We have to decide how to cover this.”
“I trust you will keep this conversation private, Tim,” Brown said.
Tim nodded.
“Of course,” he said. “It wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
“Ms. Tassel,” Brown said. “You can wait with Mr. O’Brion if you like.”
“Thanks,” Kate said.
You okay here by yourself? she asked.
Quinn already knew what she had in mind.
Yes, he responded.
“But if it’s alright with you, I have some sources I’d like to check up on,” she said.
“I trust if you find anything, you’ll share it with the police?” Brown asked. “We do not want a repeat of the Lord Halloween situation. Am I clear, Ms. Tassel?”
“Absolutely, sir,” she responded.
Be careful, Quinn said.
A few minutes later, Kate was on the road again.
*****
Kate drove down the driveway of what she had come to think of as Loudoun Castle, shoved the car into park and opened the car door.
Two moidin immediately came forward to greet her and she walked past them as if they weren’t even there. When one started shouting at her, she ignored him.
She opened the front doors and strode past at least five others who tried to talk to her or get in her way. The last one she shoved hard enough that he fell to the ground. There was nothing supernatural in the push, but she was a cop’s daughter. When she applied force, it generally worked.
&n
bsp; She strolled into the main room without slowing down, oblivious to anyone who called for her. She could see the two of them sitting on their ‘thrones’ at the front, with Kieran watching her curiously from the side as she approached. Sawyer nodded almost imperceptibly to Elyssa, who rose and approached Kate.
Kate never slowed down, just approached Elyssa at a brisk and deliberate pace. Elyssa was talking, but Kate didn’t listen to a word she said. When Elyssa put out her arms to stop her, Kate hit her with considerable force. Elyssa, who never saw it coming, went down hard.
Sawyer was out of his seat and yelling and even Kieran had sprung into action, but Kate did not slow down.
Sawyer put up a hand to block her, but Kate was too quick. She grabbed his neck with both hands and started to squeeze. She saw surprise, anger and just enough fear in Sawyer’s eyes as she gritted her teeth and held on.
Behind her, there was a snarl, the kind of sound appropriate in a zoo or rainforest.
A giant animal—almost certainly something from myth, not reality—launched itself at Kate and she reacted on instinct. She ducked at exactly the right moment, letting go of Sawyer in the process.
The animal slammed into Sawyer, knocking him off his feet. The two went down in a tangle of black fur and a dark suit.
The animal recovered first, rolling to its feet and launching itself in another attack.
Kate didn’t have time to react. As the animal flew at her—its eyes wild with anger and hate—she felt herself change. She wasn’t sure how she did it—it had just happened as a response to the threat—but instead of connecting with her, the animal sailed right through Kate as if she wasn’t there.
When the animal landed, it turned around but didn’t attack again. Kate shimmered and felt herself turn solid. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but she kept the surprise off her face. She stood her ground and kept her eyes on Sawyer, who had stood up and was brushing himself off.
He looked at Kate with a cold fury.
“Enough,” he said, but the comment seemed directed at the animal, not Kate.
Kate didn’t need to look behind her to know that it was now gone, replaced by Elyssa again.
“Listen to me, you arrogant son of a bitch,” Kate said. “You might think you accomplished something yesterday, killing Summer and trying to frame us for it. But all you’ve done is make us angry. You wanted us on your side? You wanted us to go to war with you against Sanheim? Fat chance of that now.”
Band of Demons (The Sanheim Chronicles Book 2) Page 24
