Killing Her Softly

by Beverly Barton

  Suddenly, she realized that Quinn had arrived, sensing his presence first, several minutes before she actually saw him. Like an odd sort of feminine radar, she knew the moment he entered the homicide department. Her stomach fluttered; her heartbeat accelerated.

  Annabelle glanced at the door just as Quinn approached the interview room. Their gazes met, connected and separated in the span of half a second. Warmth originated deep inside her and quickly spread through her entire body. Sensual fire ignited by her close proximity to Quinn Cortez.

  "If everybody will take a seat, we'll get this done quickly," Jim Norton said as he stood and indicated the empty chairs.

  Chad pulled out the chair to Annabelle's left and sat down beside her. When he placed his hand on the back of her chair, she glanced over her shoulder and frowned. He re­moved his hand instantly.

  Annabelle looked at the two men with Quinn. She as­sumed the younger was Aaron Tully. He was about the same height as Quinn, only youthfully lanky, and possessed the same dark coloring as his employer. The other man with Quinn, his lawyer Judd Walker, looked familiar to her. He was an inch or two taller than Quinn and had the most fascinating golden eyes, a few shades lighter than his honey brown hair. When she'd first heard his name mentioned, she'd thought she should know him and believed that they had met at some time. But when and where?

  When he walked past her, Mr. Walker nodded and smiled. "How are you, Ms. Vanderley? I'd like to extend my condo­lences on the loss of your cousin."

  She returned his smile. "Thank you, Mr. Walker."

  Studying his face for the sixty seconds of their exchange, Annabelle remembered where she had met this man. At the same charity event in Chattanooga where she'd met Griffin Powell a few years ago.

  Quinn sat across the table from Annabelle, but didn't glance her way. His lawyer remained standing, as did Randall Miller's lawyer. With her hands folded in her lap and one foot placed partly behind the other, Annabelle looked di­rectly at Lieutenant Norton and said a silent prayer that the DNA results would show that either Aaron Tully or Randall Miller had fathered Lulu's baby. For Quinn's sake, she hoped the child hadn't been his.

  Norton opened the file folder, glanced at the report, then swept his gaze around the room, looking briefly at each per­son. "The DNA report proves conclusively that Randall Miller couldn't have fathered Lulu's baby."

  Miller released a loud sigh. "Am I free to go?"

  "Certainly," Norton said. "But we may need to question you again in the course of this investigation."

  "My client will be at your disposal," Mr. Baldwin said as he followed his client, who was already opening the door in his eagerness to leave.

  "Aaron Tully wasn't the father, either," Norton said.

  Annabelle's stomach muscles knotted. She hazarded a quick glance at Quinn, who sat there stoic, his expression showing no emotion whatsoever.

  She turned and glanced at Chad. He was smiling, damn him.

  "And Mr. Cortez," Jim looked right at Quinn. "You were not the father."

  "What?" Chad shouted.

  Annabelle's and Quinn's gazes met and held. Relief washed over her like a cleansing rain. And she felt Quinn's relief in every fiber of her being.

  "Mr. Tully, you are free to go, but just as with Mr. Miller, we may need to question you further at a later time," Norton said.

  "Wait a minute." Chad shot up out of his chair. "If Cortez, Miller or Tully wasn't the father—"

  Cutting his partner off midsentence, Norton turned to Annabelle and said "Ms. Vanderley, would you stay, please. I'd like to talk to you about the DNA results."

  "Yes, certainly." Chill bumps broke out on her arms. Please, God, don't let him tell me what I fear the most.

  "Lieutenant Norton, Mr. Cortez and I would like to meet with you when you've finished here." Judd Walker glanced at Annabelle. "Ms. Vanderley, if you'd like to join us, you're quite welcome."

  "As a matter of fact, I have a few more questions for Mr. Cortez, so if y'all will wait outside, this shouldn't take long with Ms. Vanderley," Norton said. "Then we'll hear what y'all have to say."

  Quinn didn't speak to her as he followed Aaron Tully to the door. After Aaron went into the outer office, Quinn paused before leaving and looked at her. She knew he was telling her that he would wait for her, that he wouldn't leave without her. When she nodded, telling him she understood his telepathic message, Quinn left the interview room qui­etly, followed by Judd Walker.

  "Just what the hell is going on?" Chad asked Jim. "You should have allowed me to read that DNA report before an­nouncing the results. And what's with Cortez's lawyer want­ing a private meeting?"

  "You were late getting in this morning," Jim said. "You didn't get here in time to do more than meet and greet Ms. Vanderley before the others arrived. As for why Cortez's lawyer wants to talk to me, I don't know, but since he invited Ms. Vanderley to join us, I wouldn't call it a private meet­ing."

  "Why did you ask Annabelle to stay? Surely you don't think she knew that Lulu had another lover and didn't tell us."

  Lieutenant Norton zeroed in on Annabelle, a sympathetic expression in his timber wolf blue-gray eyes. "The DNA re­sults on the fetus showed that the child was fathered by . . ." Norton cleared his throat. "By a close male relative of Annabelle's."

  Tears pooled in Annabelle's eyes.

  "My God! Are you saying that—" Chad leaned over and stared directly into Annabelle's face. "You didn't know about this, did you?"

  Norton clamped his hand onto Chad's shoulder and jerked him away from Annabelle. Chad bristled giving Norton a half-crazed look, but he moved away and kept his distance. "I'm sorry, Ms. Vanderley, to have to tell you about the pa­ternity of the child Lulu was carrying, but I suspect you already knew that Lulu had been having an intimate relation­ship with her half brother, didn't you?"

  Annabelle clenched her teeth. When she closed her eyes momentarily, tears dampened her eyelashes. "Yes, I knew."

  "Why didn't you tell us?" Chad asked.

  "Because I had prayed there would be no need. Wythe didn't kill Lulu. He was in Austinville at the time of her mur­der. And my uncle Louis has no idea that. . . It would kill him if he found out. The relationship between Lulu and Wythe is our family's dirty little secret, one that I had hoped was buried with my cousin."

  "How did you find out about their relationship?" Norton asked.

  "Lulu admitted it to me several years ago." She would not tell these police officers more than they already knew. What difference did it make now what they thought of Lulu? Would it absolve Lulu of her sins if these men knew that Wythe had begun molesting Lulu when she was just a child? The fact that by the time she was fifteen, Lulu thought her­self in love with her own half brother was no one's business. Nor was the fact that long after her infatuation with Wythe ended, their sexual relationship continued.

  "I promise you that I will do everything I can to keep this information under wraps," Norton said. "Of course, if and when Lulu's murder case goes to trial. . ."

  "I understand." Annabelle stood and held out her hand to the lieutenant. "Thank you. I appreciate your not sharing the DNA results with everyone else."

  "No one else needed to know."

  "I'd like to go to the restroom and freshen up." She wiped away her tears with her fingertips. "And since Mr. Walker in­vited me to join y'all, I'll be right back."

  As soon as Lieutenant Norton gave her directions to the ladies' room, she escaped quickly into the outer office before Chad offered to escort her. She searched for Quinn, but didn't see him anywhere. Then just as she'd given up hope of find­ing him, she caught a glimpse of him and Judd Walker near the men's room. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching her, she waited nervously while Quinn walked to­ward her.

  When he reached her, he left at least two feet between them. "You've been crying. Want to tell me what hap­pened?"

  "I will. Later. Once we're out of here and alone."

  Quinn nodded. "You know why we'v
e asked for a meet­ing with the detectives on Lulu's case, don't you?"

  "You're going to give them the information about Joy Ellis and Carla Millican."

  "Once they know, this thing could go one of two ways— they'll either think I killed all four women or they'll know I'm innocent and start looking for a serial killer."

  She longed to touch him, to take his hand into hers and say something comforting. And by the way he was looking at her, she knew he felt the same.

  Judd Walker, who had stayed at a discreet distance, came over and put his hand on Quinn's shoulder. "Lieutenant Norton is motioning to us. I think they're ready to hear what we have to say."

  Chapter 22

  With a look that could kill, Jim Norton scowled at his partner, daring him to open his mouth. Chad clenched his teeth and gave Jim a withering glare, but he kept quiet.

  "We didn't have to come forward with this information," Judd Walker said. "But we felt it in the best interest of my client to make you aware of these facts."

  "You say there were two other women, both murdered the way Lulu Vanderley and Kendall Wells were murdered and both were former lovers of Mr. Cortez." Although his ques­tion was directed at Judd Walker, Jim studied Quinn Cortez's reaction. Jim couldn't quite peg Cortez. Not even the infa­mous Houston lawyer himself thought he was one of the good guys. But being a cutthroat criminal lawyer didn't mean the man was capable of murder.

  "Yes," Judd replied, then glanced at the file folder he had laid on the table. "All the information that the Powell agency unearthed is in there."

  "Four murders, same MO, all four women connected by one thing—Mr. Cortez." Jim reached out, put his hand on the folder and slid the file across the fable toward him, but didn't open it. "I suppose you want me to believe that some mystery killer is responsible for these crimes."

  "We've hired a former FBI profiler to work up a profile of the killer," Judd said. "But it seems apparent to me that we're dealing with a serial killer in all four murders."

  Although he remained standing in a far corner, Chad spoke up, apparently unable to hold himself back any longer. "Yeah, and that serial killer is Quinn Cortez."

  "That's ludicrous," Judd replied. "Mr. Cortez is no more a serial killer than you or I. If you continue your persecution of my client, I'll be forced to—"

  "No one is persecuting Mr. Cortez." Jim cut his eyes menacingly at Chad then looked at Judd. "And although I tend to agree with you about a serial killer having committed these crimes, I'm not a hundred percent sure we can auto­matically rule out your client."

  "Damn right about that," Chad said.

  Jim huffed loudly. He'd like nothing better than to back­hand his partner, whose show of machismo was lost on Annabelle Vanderley. If Chad thought that by acting tough, by hammering away at Cortez, he would impress the lady, then the guy was an idiot. Ms. Vanderley sat at the far end of the table, as far away from Cortez as possible with the two of them still in the same room, but Jim hadn't missed the subtle way she watched the man, concern in her gaze.

  "I appreciate your coming to us with this infor-mation," Jim said. "I figured it was only a matter of time before Griffin found out the same info we did but I didn't expect him to get hold of it first."

  Chad snapped his head around and shot Jim a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about? look.

  "Are you saying you already had this information, that you knew about Joy Ellis and Carla Millican?" Judd asked.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact, we did. I actually spoke to the lead detective on one of the murder cases this morning," Jim told them. Thanks to Sandra Holmes, Jim had come in to work today with the names of the lead detective in all of the other murder cases identical to Lulu's and Kendall's. "Conrad McCaffery, out in Dallas, was in charge of the Carla Millican case. And I have calls in to the New Orleans PD and. . . I take it Griffin hasn't gone further back with the investigation than this past year."

  "His agents are continuing the search," Judd said.

  "He'll come up with one more name—Kelley Fleming. She was murdered two years ago in Baytown, Texas."

  "Was this woman another of your lovers?" Chad asked as he came out of the corner and stood across the table from Cortez and his lawyer.

  "I don't recognize the name," Quinn replied, but he was looking at Judd Walker, not Chad.

  "Maybe you just forgot her. After all, it was two years ago." Chad cast a quick glance at Annabelle, then returned his attention to Quinn. "Love 'em, kill 'em, and forget 'em. Is that the way it is for you, Cortez?"

  Quinn rose halfway out of his seat, pure rage exhibited in his taut body and ferocious facial features. Judd grasped his arm. Quinn threw off his lawyer's hold as he stood and ze­roed in on Chad.

  "Sit down," Judd Walker told his client, but Quinn ig­nored him.

  Just as Quinn leaned across the table as if ready to pounce on Chad, Annabelle spoke in a quiet, soothing voice that startled all four men in the room.

  "Quinn didn't kill any of those women, including my cousin, Lulu."

  Her words diffused the Cortez/George time bomb on the verge of exploding. As if she'd reached out and physically touched him, Quinn relaxed instantly, stood up straight and backed away from the table. Chad turned and stared at Annabelle, his gaze plainly telling her that he couldn't be­lieve she'd so readily come to Quinn's defense.

  "Let's everybody calm down," Jim added. "Mr. Walker, remind your client that if he's wise, he'll control his temper." Jim glanced at his partner. "And Sergeant George, remember you represent the Memphis Police Department and your ac­tions can reflect badly on all of us if you conduct yourself in an unprofessional manner."

  "Yes, sir," Chad replied through clenched teeth.

  "Now, Mr. Cortez, you said you didn't recognize the name Kelley Fleming. Is that right?"

  Quinn nodded. "If she was someone I knew a couple of years ago, I would remember her name. I didn't know a Kelley Fleming."

  "I assume Ms. Fleming was murdered the same way the other victims were?" Judd Walker asked.

  "That's confidential—" Chad said.

  "The Powell Agency will have the info today or tomor­row," Jim reminded his partner, then replied to Judd, "Yes, the MO is the same."

  "I'd say that this fifth murder, and of a woman my client didn't even know, adds credence to our theory that these women were murdered by a serial killer, not by Quinn Cortez," Judd said.

  "Possibly." Jim glanced from Quinn to Judd. "If Mr. Cortez didn't know Ms. Fleming and if he was not in New Orleans or Dallas or Baytown when each woman was murdered, then I agree with you."

  Silence.

  Jim glanced from Cortez to Walker to Annabelle Vanderley and realized that all three of them knew something he didn't know. Not yet. And they sure as hell weren't rushing to re­veal anything more. His bet was Cortez had been in either Dallas or New Orleans when the murders occurred, but if he went much further with his questioning, Judd Walker wouldn't allow his client to cooperate. He'd leave it alone, for now.

  "If that's all. . ." Judd looked inquiringly at Jim.

  He nodded. "Yeah. . . for now." He cast Chad a keep-your-mouth-shut glare.

  Judd and Quinn rose simultaneously, then Quinn went straight to Annabelle, pulled out her chair and held out his hand to her.

  "Annabelle," Chad called.

  But she didn't answer him, didn't even glance his way. Instead she took Quinn's hand got up and walked out of the room with him.

  As soon as they were alone in the interview room, Chad cursed under his breath. "Goddamn son of a bitch."

  "Cool off," Jim advised.

  "Yeah, how the hell do I do that? Annabelle just walked out of here with that man. She has no idea what he's capable of doing. She thinks he's innocent. Goddamn it, Jim, the guy could kill her. She could be his next victim."

  "Since you're so concerned about Ms. Vanderley and equally convinced that Cortez is guilty, then find us some proof. Something the DA can take to a grand jury, something that will prove to the l
ady you're so worried about that she's putting her trust in a killer."

  "That's just what I intend to do."

  "You might want to start by finding out if Cortez was in Dallas when Carla Millican was murdered and if he was in New Orleans when Joy Ellis died."

  Annabelle and Quinn walked out of Griffin's suite shortly after one that afternoon, leaving Judd and Griffin to ponder the next move in Quinn's defense. Griffin intended to give the name Kelley Fleming to one of his top agents and send the guy to Baytown, Texas, to dig up as much infor­mation about that particular victim as possible. If her death was connected to the other four, that meant these murders hadn't begun only a year ago as they had first thought. And if there was no connection between Quinn and Ms. Flem­ing, then did that mean his having been a friend and lover to the other four was nothing more than mere coincidence?

  "Still think he's innocent?" Judd asked.

  Griffin nodded. "Yes, I do. But what about you, Judd? Are Annabelle and I the only two people who believe Quinn didn't kill any of those women?"

  "I agreed to take this case because you convinced me he's innocent. But I have to admit that I have a few unsettling doubts. Something about this case isn't right. I thought I had it all figured out—that somebody was killing Quinn's lovers either to pin the rap on him or to punish him in some way. But now the police have discovered another victim—one Quinn claims he doesn't know. If Kelley Fleming was killed by the same person as the other four, then it doesn't make sense. Any of it."

  "Maybe Quinn did know Kelley Fleming," Griffin said. "Maybe he knew her by another name or maybe he never knew her name. I'll see if Sullivan can e-mail us a photo of the woman ASAP. It's possible Quinn will recognize her, even if her name didn't mean anything to him."

  Judd's cell phone rang, interrupting their discussion. "Ex­cuse me," Judd said as he answered the distinctive Beethoven's Fifth ring. "Walker here." Judd's features softened. "No, it's all right. I'm glad you called, honey. Give me a minute, will you?" Smiling, he glanced at Griffin as he held the phone away from his mouth. "I need to take this call. It's personal. My fiancée."