The Killer You Know

by Kimberly Van Meter

  And then she climbed off, stretching with a dainty moan as she pulled her panties back on and scooped up her bra.

  Silas disposed of the condom and tossed the sheet over his exposed parts. He expected her to try and cuddle with him but when she seemed completely happy to dress and go, he sat a little straighter.

  “Do you want to talk?” he ventured.

  “About what? The case?”

  “No...about what just happened.”

  She answered with an amused chuckle as she swung her purse over her shoulder, pausing at the door.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll bring a protein bar and smoothies.”

  And then she was gone.

  Silas leaned against the headboard. That was...unexpected.

  But not unwelcome.

  The tension that’d been bunching his shoulders since stepping foot in Port Orion was gone.

  Silas grabbed the blanket, plumped his pillow and closed his eyes.

  His last thought before drifting off...he would’ve been down for just a little snuggling.

  * * *

  Quinn awoke the following morning and bounded from the bed. Too many thoughts crammed in her brain made it impossible to remain still.

  She passed Uncle Leo in the kitchen as she wolfed down a bagel and cream cheese.

  “There’s a speed limit in here,” Leo teased as he poured himself some coffee. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “Just excited to go to work,” Quinn answered, smiling. Leo’s chagrined expression caused her to falter. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what I said the other day and I feel really bad for being a Debbie Downer. You should chase any dream that you see fit. It’s not my place to suggest otherwise. I guess I just worry too much.”

  Leo’s apology sparked immediate tears. Her uncle was her Achilles’ heel. Although she tried to hide it, his opinion mattered.

  “Uncle Leo, you don’t need to apologize for caring too much,” Quinn assured him, pushing back the tears. “I love that you care.”

  He smiled. “Well, thank you for indulging an old man. You’re a good girl.”

  It was a simple, endearing statement but Quinn struggled with the implication. The thing was, as much as she adored her uncle, she was prepared to go to any length to get this story. She wasn’t content to mimic what other reporters had figured out—Quinn wanted to break open this story and expose its guts.

  And with that decision came the realization that her uncle Leo’s view of her might change.

  God, that hurt.

  But she wasn’t going to think about that right now.

  “Love you.” Quinn pressed a kiss to Leo’s cheek and walked to her car, winding the scarf more tightly around her neck as a stiff wind picked up. A glance at the sky told her rain was coming, which meant if she didn’t want to drown, she needed to get moving.

  True to her word, she picked up smoothies and protein bars and then swung by Silas’s hotel.

  An immediate smile followed as she approached his door, memories of last night fresh and vibrant. She could almost still smell him on her skin.

  It was a scent she could get used to.

  There was something so intensely virile and primal about Silas Kelly that made every other man seem lacking.

  She took a moment to compose herself so she didn’t walk into his room acting like a silly girl with a crush. Blowing out a quick breath, she squared her shoulders and knocked.

  Silas opened the door, dressed and looking like the same stoic man who’d first brushed her off when he came to town, which worked for her.

  If he’d opened the door, barely dressed, sporting a bedhead, she might’ve weakened and suggested another itch-scratching session.

  But as it was, Silas seemed on the same page as her—which was a relief.

  Quinn tossed the protein bar, which he caught handily. “Breakfast of champions,” he said, ripping into the bar. “Is there kale in that smoothie?”

  “Of course. And wheatgrass. There’s enough greens in this smoothie to satisfy a horse.”

  “Excellent.” Silas chugged his smoothie as efficiently as he did everything. He paused a minute to regard her with speculation. “Do we need to talk about...”

  “Nope.”

  Silas jerked a short nod. “Good. Let’s make a game plan, then. I think you ought to come with me to the parents’ house. They seemed to relax more around you than me. Delivering bad news is never pleasant but sometimes you can soften the blow with support.”

  Quinn nodded, though the idea of being there when Silas informed Rhia’s parents that their perfect daughter had been pregnant? Her skin crawled with anxiety but she’d do it, nonetheless.

  “Afterward, we’ll break off and you can talk to the friends and I’ll swing by the coroner’s office to see if there’s any DNA evidence that might lead us to the father’s identity.”

  “At six weeks along...it’s possible Rhia didn’t even know she was pregnant.”

  “Maybe. But doesn’t change the fact that it could be motive.”

  Quinn agreed, a chill popping along her forearms. She rubbed at the gooseflesh, saying, “It’s bad enough that a sixteen-year-old girl died, but knowing that she was pregnant...somehow makes it so much worse.”

  “It’s the innocence of the unborn child,” Silas said then grabbed his keys, ready to leave. “Let’s go. Time is wasting.”

  Quinn and Silas broke off, agreeing to meet at the Danielses’ home. Butterflies erupted in her stomach as she pulled into the driveway. There was no way this meeting was going to go well. Rhia’s parents were ultra-conservative. Chances were they weren’t going to believe the coroner’s report because to acknowledge the facts was to admit that they hadn’t known their daughter at all.

  Be supportive, she reminded herself. That was her role right now. Silas would play bad cop, Quinn would be the gentle hand guiding them.

  Silas shared a look with Quinn before they climbed the steps and rang the doorbell.

  A moment later a worn and grief-stricken Mrs. Daniels opened the door, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen from, what Quinn would assume, was nights of crying.

  “Yes?” Mrs. Daniels ventured, her voice hoarse.

  “May we come in? We have some sensitive information about the case to share,” Silas said.

  The solemn tone of Silas’s voice seemed to penetrate through the woman’s haze and she slowly moved aside, clutching at her cardigan nervously. “Of course,” she said, leading them into the drawing room where they’d talked previously.

  “Is your husband here?” Silas asked gently. “He might want to be here, as well.”

  “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll get him. Would you like something to drink?”

  The woman was on autopilot. Quinn and Silas both declined and she shuffled from the room.

  The couple returned and sat opposite Silas and Quinn, awaiting the news like the condemned awaited the executioner’s ax.

  Silas went first. “Mr. and Mrs. Daniels...was your daughter involved with anyone romantically?”

  “We did not feel she was old enough to date,” Mrs. Daniels answered staunchly. “And Rhia agreed. She wanted to focus on her studies.”

  Mr. Daniels’s mouth tightened but he remained silent.

  Quinn cringed privately. The news was going to go down like a cactus ball lozenge.

  “The coroner’s report came back with preliminary results. Although DNA won’t be in for a few more days, the coroner has determined that Rhia was six weeks pregnant.”

  Violet Daniels blanched as her mouth worked without sound. Her husband’s complexion turned as red as his wife’s turned white. “What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded, his voice shaking. “Someone is
wrong. The report is wrong. My girl wasn’t loose.”

  Quinn tried not to take offense on Rhia’s behalf. Just because the teen hadn’t been a virgin didn’t mean she was a slut. “Mr. Daniels, no one is implying that your daughter was...promiscuous. But it takes two to tango,” she pointed out. “Rhia didn’t get pregnant on her own.”

  Something that looked like possession flashed in Mr. Daniels’s eyes, taking Quinn by surprise. What the hell? Was she imagining what she’d seen? If Rhia’s father was...ewww. She couldn’t even finish the thought without bile rising in her throat.

  Silas jumped in firmly. “The results aren’t wrong. The remains of a pregnancy were evident in her womb. Your daughter was, indeed, pregnant.”

  “It doesn’t mean she wasn’t a good girl.” Quinn tried offering a different perspective. “Maybe she fell in love and—”

  “If Rhia was pregnant, someone did this to her against her will,” Oliver Daniels said stiffly. “You don’t know my daughter. She would never...she was very modest.”

  Violet moaned and collapsed against her husband, burying her face against his shoulder. “What is happening?” she cried and Quinn knew the poor woman’s world was crumbling. “Our daughter...pregnant?”

  “I want to know who is responsible and I want them to pay for what they’ve done,” Oliver said, his voice trembling. “Someone is going to pay for sullying our girl.”

  “Mr. Daniels, we don’t know that the father is to blame for her death but it’s a good place to start asking questions. To your knowledge, was there anyone Rhia was close to? Anyone who might know who Rhia was seeing?”

  “We already told you. Rhia wasn’t old enough to date,” the father answered bitterly. “Boys weren’t even allowed at the house.”

  Quinn was starting to get a dour view of the Danielses’ everyday living. In Quinn’s experience, kids who were caged often went wild without their parents’ knowledge.

  Which seemed the case with Rhia.

  “I thought Rhia told me everything,” Violet mourned. “I feel as if you’re speaking about a total stranger. Rhia was very close to her faith. She was a good girl who valued her relationship with God. She even took a purity vow. How can I reconcile what you’re saying with what I knew about my own daughter?”

  Silas seemed to understand Violet’s confusion, even sympathize, which privately awed Quinn with how gentle he became with grieving parents.

  “Everyone has secrets,” Quinn offered softly. “But Rhia loved you. Maybe she didn’t want to disappoint you. And maybe she didn’t even know herself that she was pregnant. It was very early in the pregnancy. Had Rhia seemed under the weather lately?”

  Violet shook her head. “No. She seemed no different than she ever was. Bright, bubbly, smiling...” The woman choked up a bit before continuing, “Just a ray of sunshine wherever she went.” Violet reached for her husband’s hand. “And such a Daddy’s girl. They were so close.”

  That icky feeling returned. Quinn fell silent, unable to manage a suitable response when her brain was throwing gross scenarios at her.

  The fact was no kid was as perfect as Rhia Daniels seemed. The tragedy was that the more they learned about Rhia, the more Quinn got the feeling Rhia was hiding a lot more than an unexpected pregnancy.

  A stone felt lodged in her gut for what she had to do next. Drawing a deep breath, Quinn said, “Mrs. Daniels, you know I have to write about this new discovery.”

  Violet’s head snapped up with horror. “You can’t write that. No. I forbid it.”

  Quinn wasn’t going to point out that she didn’t need Violet’s permission to print the truth but she tried to soften the blow. “I can only imagine the pain you’re going through but the news isn’t going to stay quiet for long. I’d rather write the story and give Rhia some dignity than let an outsider splash the news all over without an ounce of sensitivity.”

  Violet’s lip trembled. “What will people think if they find out...?”

  “Hopefully, they’ll be kind and be thankful that it wasn’t their child who was found murdered,” Silas answered firmly. “We want to find out what happened to Rhia but we can’t do that if we shy away from potential leads that may make us uncomfortable. I’m asking you to be brave for Rhia’s sake so we can get her the justice she deserves.”

  Oliver didn’t seem ready to hear such a stark truth but Violet was wavering. In her eyes burned the light of a grieving mother who would do anything to find answers.

  Quinn had never seen Violet Daniels in such a way. She’d always written her off as stuck in a time warp where women vacuumed in heels and had a martini at the ready for when the man of the house returned from work. Now Quinn wasn’t so sure that she hadn’t misjudged the woman’s grit.

  “I would start with Britain Almasey. She was Rhia’s closest friend. If she was keeping any secrets, Britain probably knows.”

  Violet’s information confirmed what Quinn had already supposed. She shared a look with Silas and they both knew it was best to let the Danielses process this new information privately.

  Silas rose and Quinn followed his lead. “Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch,” he said to the couple. Oliver barely registered Silas’s comment but Violet nodded.

  Once they were outside Quinn said, “I don’t think Mr. Daniels is ready to face the music about Rhia but his wife seems to realize what’s at stake.”

  “Fathers are usually the last to come around.” Silas paused at his car to say, “You did pretty good in there. You continue to surprise me.”

  Quinn smothered the pleased smile that his praise sparked. Instead, she said, “I’ll see what I can shake out of Britain. Let me know if you find anything new from the DNA samples.”

  “Meet back at my hotel later?” he asked.

  “Depends on what I find out from Britain.”

  Quinn left Silas to chew on that as she climbed into her own vehicle. Only until she was free and clear did she allow the smile to break free.

  Was it a victory?

  Of sorts.

  But she wasn’t sure if this was a game she ought to be playing.

  Especially with Silas Kelly.

  Chapter 12

  It never got easier, telling parents bad news. But there was something about talking to the Danielses that made him flash back to when his parents had gotten the news about Spencer.

  The tension in the house had been enough to choke a horse.

  The tight expression on his dad’s face mirrored the anxiety in his mom’s. His parents were handfasted in their joint fear that the worst had happened to the baby in the family.

  The subdued rap on the front door might as well have been a thunderous clap for the collective jump in the living room by every Kelly.

  His dad opened the door and a deputy came in, immediately doffing his hat. The somber expression told the story.

  His mom started crying right away and would’ve collapsed if it hadn’t been for Sawyer being there to catch her.

  Silas only caught bits and pieces of the conversation.

  “A body’s been found matching the description...” Which was followed by “...come down to the station to identify...” and Silas had heard enough.

  Bolting from the living room, Silas ran to the bedroom he shared with Spencer and stared with growing horror at the realization that his annoying little brother was never going to walk through that door again.

  Never bug Silas to let him play with his LEGOs.

  Never whine to Mom that Silas was being mean.

  Never look at Silas like he was a hero, in spite of the way Silas was always trying to ditch him.

  In that moment he hadn’t felt eleven—Silas had felt the burden of adulthood.

  Tears burned behind his eyes at the painful memory. Jerking the wheel, he chewed up
the shoulder and shoved the car in Park before grinding his fists into his eyeballs.

  What had happened? Why hadn’t Spencer made it home?

  Why the hell hadn’t he just let Spencer come with him?

  The passage of time didn’t dull the cut of unanswered questions. Silas kept those memories at bay for a reason. His stomach clenched as another wave of grief rolled over him, pressing him down as he gulped for air.

  It didn’t matter how many people tried telling him that Spencer’s death wasn’t his fault—he knew that to be false.

  Spencer would be alive today if Silas hadn’t been such a prick to him.

  Silas often counseled parents to avoid dwelling on how their lost children may have suffered because it wouldn’t bring them back.

  But Silas never admitted that the nightmares would continue because he didn’t know how to burden the already grieving parents with more reality.

  Spencer haunted him and probably always would until he managed to find who had stubbed out his young life.

  The crash of the ocean against the shore drew his gaze. Turbulent waters churned the surf as dark clouds crouched on the horizon, growing and spreading like a malevolent force aimed at destruction.

  A drizzle had already started to pelt the car, sounding like tiny fingertips drumming on the roof.

  His mother had turned to prayer when she’d been too lost to find herself but Silas knew there was no comfort waiting for him in the power of words.

  Maybe he was still that pissed off eleven-year-old, angry at God for taking his little brother.

  Maybe he always would be.

  People don’t realize that the hits keep coming when you lose someone. First, it’s the initial shock of loss. Then it’s the lingering pain of facing the practical concerns—the burial, the sifting through the personal items—that are worse.

  His dad had handled packing up Spencer’s things.

  Quietly, efficiently...like a robot. The dull stare as Spencer’s prized possessions were stuffed into a trash bag was more than Silas could bear.