The Killer You Know

by Kimberly Van Meter

  “And you think she was pregnant with his baby?”

  “Who else could it be? I never saw her with anyone else.”

  “How do you think Brock was going to take the news?”

  Britain’s eyes widened. “I doubt he’d take the news very well. He’s got his eye on a scholarship to Washington State University and I’m sure a kid would mess that up.”

  “Do you think that Brock could hurt Rhia in order to protect his scholarship chances?”

  “I don’t know but...he’s got a wicked temper. He and Rhia got into a huge fight last weekend at the bonfire. I don’t know what they were fighting over but he was pretty pissed.”

  Quinn tried to contain her excitement. “Thank you, Britain. I appreciate you talking to me.”

  “Are you going to quote me in the paper? I don’t want anyone to know I said those things. You know, ’cause people might think I was talking trash behind my best friend’s back and that’s not true. I loved her. Rhia could be a bitch but she was my girl, you know? We’ve been cheering together since we were kids. We even talked about going to college together.”

  “You were interested in Berkeley?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I figured we had more time to figure it out.”

  Quinn commiserated quietly.

  Britain wiped at her eyes, sniffing a little. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will all be a terrible dream.”

  “Not a dream,” Quinn said quietly. Genuine grief rippled around the girl and Quinn felt the burden of her job for the first time. The thrill of the chase clanged at odds with the natural urge to be supportive. But she wasn’t going to get anywhere by hesitating to go for the jugular. “Britain...was Rhia a secretive girl? Did she like to hide things?”

  Britain sniffed. “What do you mean?”

  “We all have things we keep to ourselves and that’s normal, but it’s really shocking to find out the things Rhia was keeping under wraps. It makes me wonder...what else was she hiding?” A flash of guilt in Britain’s expression had Quinn press a little harder. “I’m not talking about the occasional party that we don’t tell our parents about or the time we experimented with drugs or alcohol. I’m talking about bigger secrets.”

  Britain quieted, chewing on her bottom lip as she considered her answer. “I don’t think so. But... I don’t know... Rhia was private.”

  Quinn went out on a limb and threw out her suspicion. “Was...Rhia’s father...I don’t know how to say this delicately but if anyone would know, it would be you.” She paused a beat then dropped the question. “Was Rhia’s father messing around with her?”

  Britain paled and gave a subtle shake of her head. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But he was always looking at her weird. Gave me the creeps. I mean, it was just... I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean? Can you give me some examples?”

  Britain licked her lips. “Well, last year he found text messages on her cell phone from this boy who liked her. Mr. Daniels freaked out on Rhia, like totally, crazy, possessive-boyfriend kind of freak-out. It was gross. Like he was jealous or something. What kind of dad reacts like that?”

  “What did Rhia say about it?”

  “She said he’s just really overprotective and then we dropped it because it was uncomfortable to talk about. Neither of us brought it up again.”

  If Britain knew anything else, she wasn’t sharing.

  Quinn understood. Britain was trying to remain loyal to her dead friend. Whatever true secrets Rhia was keeping, the girl took them to the grave.

  “Thank you, Britain,” Quinn said, ending the conversation. “Are you going to be okay?”

  Britain nodded. “I just need a minute. I don’t want anyone to see me like this.” To prove her point, she pulled her visor down to check her mirror and groaned as she wiped away smeared mascara. “Ugh. That’s all I need, my mom grilling me about why I was crying. She already wants to send me to therapy because of what happened to Rhia.”

  “I hate to side with an adult but that might not be a bad idea. Sometimes talking to someone...it helps.”

  That was Quinn’s contribution. Grief could twist a person until they broke. She didn’t want to see that happen to the girl.

  Quinn waved and slowly pulled away, her thoughts moving too quickly to process all at once.

  Weird, creepy dad lusting after his own daughter?

  A secret boyfriend with a temper and big dreams?

  Either one sounded like they had a solid motive for murder to Quinn.

  But if that was true and it really did turn out to be the boyfriend or Mr. Daniels who snuffed out Rhia’s life...that meant Silas was wrong.

  The two cases weren’t related at all.

  Her shoulders ached with the sudden tension she was holding.

  Had she wanted the cases to be related—not for the potential story—but for Silas to have closure?

  The answer to the rhetorical question mocked her.

  Yeah, she wanted closure for Silas’s family.

  And for Silas.

  Chapter 14

  Silas took the liberty of ordering a pizza for him and Quinn, though as he waited for her to show up at the hotel, the awkwardness of the situation hit him.

  He was actively working with a reporter.

  He’d slept with that reporter.

  Now he was eager to share a pizza and beer with that reporter.

  He should’ve kept things professional.

  Never in his entire career had he done something so reckless and out of character.

  His actions worried him.

  What if his biggest strength—his instincts—were completely off base with Quinn?

  What if she screwed him over and stole his shot at finding Spencer’s killer?

  There was an earnestness to Quinn that vied with the hunger he saw in her eyes.

  She wanted to do the right thing but she was torn by her ambition to get the job done any way possible.

  In the end, would that ambition win out?

  No matter the cost?

  An urgent knock interrupted his thoughts. Silas opened the door and Quinn strode in, her expression teeming with activity. She was onto something.

  The excitement of new information eclipsed his previous misgivings.

  “I’m starting to know that look. What do you got?”

  Quinn unwound her scarf and tossed it on the chair, grinning. “I got something good. Possibly something big enough to bust this case open.”

  Pizza forgotten, Silas was all ears but Quinn had spied the food and went straight for a slice with a happy groan. “Thank God. I’m starved.” Without missing a beat, she grabbed a piece, tore off a bite and kept talking. “Okay, I managed to meet with Britain Almasey, Rhia’s best friend. Turns out... Rhia had a boyfriend, but that’s not all.”

  Mildly amused by how Quinn could devour her pizza and keep talking between swallows, he said, “Okay, not a huge surprise. The girl didn’t get pregnant by herself.”

  “True. But this boyfriend may have motive to kill.”

  Silas lost his amusement and sank into the chair. “How so?”

  “Apparently, he’s got his eye on a football scholarship to Washington State University, and having a baby could screw all that up.”

  “Most boys don’t turn into murderers over a lost scholarship.”

  “Britain said the boy was a real D-bag with a temper. Something tells me becoming a father wasn’t high on his to-do list before skipping off to college.”

  Quinn was right—the lead had potential. And if it was true...a stone landed in his gut, killing his appetite.

  “You said there was something else?” he reminded Quinn.

 
; “Yes.” She nodded, wiping her mouth. “Britain said there was something weird going on with Mr. Daniels. Said he freaked out when he discovered text messages on Rhia’s phone from a boy.”

  “He is strict,” Silas said, thinking. “But you’re thinking it’s something else?”

  “Well, I don’t know if you caught this but he seemed more possessive than fatherly when we talked to him. It gave me an icky vibe.”

  “I caught it, as well,” Silas said, impressed with her keen eye. “It wouldn’t be the first time a father has had an incestuous relationship with his daughter. A DNA test will either rule him out or point the finger.”

  Quinn wiped her mouth. “I think that news would pretty much put Mrs. Daniels in her grave.”

  Silas agreed. The poor woman was hanging on by a thread.

  “Did you learn anything at the lab?” Quinn asked.

  “The DNA didn’t match anyone in the database, but that’s not surprising if the child turned out to be the boy’s or Mr. Daniels’s. All it will take is a cheek swab to confirm paternity and if that’s the case...”

  Quinn nodded. “Then Brock Teichert better have a really solid alibi for the night of Rhia’s death.”

  “Or Oliver Daniels better have a damn good lawyer.”

  Silas nodded. Damn it. The connection to Spencer was becoming more tenuous with each developing lead.

  “Are you okay?” Quinn ventured, her knowing expression cutting at him. “It’s good news but not so good news, right?”

  “Yeah. If it turns out either killed Rhia...there’s no way they had anything to do with Spencer’s death,” he said with a heavy sigh.

  “I’m sorry, Silas.”

  Silas shook his head. “Don’t be. Rhia deserves justice. That’s what’s important right now.”

  “So does Spencer.”

  Silas blinked back the rush of emotion that Quinn’s simple show of support caused. He took a minute to collect himself then said, “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  A beat of silence passed between them, then Quinn changed subjects with a mild frown. “I asked around about Sara Westfall...”

  “And?”

  “And I have no idea what to do with the crumb of information that I got. It could be nothing or it could be that insignificant side note that ultimately breaks the case.”

  “That’s cryptic.”

  “Wait until I tell you what I found out.” Quinn chuckled, shaking her head as she drew a deep breath. “Okay, here it is—apologies if this turns out to be nothing—Sara Westfall was taking advances against her checks. By the time she died she was in the hole by three months.”

  “Sounds like bad business, but I don’t see how that could be related to either case.”

  “I thought that, too, at first,” Quinn agreed. “But there’s more. My source implied that Sara and my editor were having an affair and that Sara was an alcoholic. Now, on the surface, that sounds like average fodder for a police drama but here’s the thing... Sara died six months after Spencer, and my editor was quite adamant that I drop the topic altogether.”

  “Could be guilt. Is your editor married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sara was probably his side piece and he doesn’t want to dredge up a potential land mine to his marriage.”

  “Makes sense. I don’t know why it’s bugging me. If Sara died in a drunk-driving accident, there should be a report. I think I’m going to do a little more digging, just to satisfy that little voice in my head so I can move on.”

  Silas smiled with respect. “Always follow your instincts. If something is telling you to keep digging, then don’t ignore it.”

  Quinn graced him with a matching smile that caught his breath. He covered by rising abruptly to grab two beers.

  “Pizza and beer. Are you my soul mate?” Quinn teased, cracking hers open for a healthy swig. She sighed with happiness, declaring, “Today was a good day.”

  Quinn popped her boots off and propped her feet in Silas’s lap. “Feel free to do whatever comes to mind,” she suggested, wiggling her socked toes. “I mean, if you wanted to rub my tootsies, I wouldn’t complain.”

  In spite of his sharp disappointment over the new direction of the case, Silas laughed, taking the hint. “Is that so? You’re a bold one, Quinn Jackson.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Silas removed her socks and slowly began rubbing her feet, gently massaging the soles. Quinn’s breathy sigh went straight to his groin. Damn, the girl was the freshest kind of sexy. It was going to be a challenge to keep his hands focused on her feet.

  But as luck would have it, Quinn had other plans.

  “I barely know you but there’s something about you that I’m drawn to. Am I wrong that feeling this way is a bad idea?”

  “Depends on your perspective,” he murmured, struggling with his own misgivings. The simple, unadorned truth was that Silas and Quinn didn’t make sense, and trying to make heads or tails of their wild, inappropriate attraction was a futile task because it would never make sense. “But yeah, I see where you’re coming from.”

  “You think I’m too young.”

  “Among other things.”

  “You hate reporters.”

  “There is that, too.”

  Quinn sat in reflective silence then said, “For the first time today I understood why you don’t like reporters. I mean, I know you told me the surface reason but I really didn’t ‘get it’ until today.”

  “Oh?”

  “Talking to Britain, I struggled with the knowledge that gaining valuable information from a source meant I had to press on an open wound to see what would spill out. She’s just a kid herself, dealing with unimaginable grief. For a split second... I didn’t like what I had to do.”

  Silas paused in his ministrations, a subtle smile twisting his lips. “A conscience could be a liability in your chosen career.”

  Quinn pulled her feet free and straightened. “You have to press on people to get information, too. Sometimes the greater good outweighs the suffering of the few.”

  “True.”

  “But in my case...it’s not okay?”

  She had a point. “I guess at the end of the day, we all have jobs to do. How we do them...that’s up to the individual.”

  Quinn nodded. “I can be a reporter with integrity.”

  Maybe she could. Silas would have to wait and see. The game was much too early to put bets on the outcome just yet.

  Quinn rose and began pulling her sweater free, tossing it to the floor as she beckoned to him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, trying to keep a level head.

  “I have another itch that needs scratching.”

  He shouldn’t.

  The smart decision would be to gently decline, to be the bigger man and send her on her way.

  The last thing he needed was to entangle himself further with Quinn.

  But he rose and began unbuttoning his shirt.

  Actually, in this moment, being tangled up with Quinn seemed like the best idea ever.

  * * *

  Quinn shuddered at Silas’s touch, the way he made her body shake with an expert hand could become an addiction if she wasn’t careful.

  His body, strong and masculine, covered hers, pressing her into the mattress as he slowly breached her, entering with exquisite precision, teasing her with each deliberate inch until he was seated to the hilt inside her.

  Quinn cried out, clutching at his back, wrapping her legs around his torso as he lifted her up, impaling her on his length.

  He held her as if she weighed nothing. She clung to him as he thrust into her, the sweat between them drenching their bodies.

  “Silas,” she cried, nearly unable to stand the sweet torture. Everything about him f
it perfectly against her—inside her. They were puzzle pieces, interlocking. It was all she could do to hold on as Silas took over, forcing her to be present for every shuddering thrust, every ripple of building pleasure.

  “God, you’re perfect,” he growled as he rolled to his back, giving him an unobstructed view. She felt powerful perched on Silas, riding him as his hazed eyes locked with fever on her body.

  His hands filled with her breasts but soon that wasn’t enough. He needed them in his mouth. Silas sat up, wrapping her legs around him as he took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and teasing, until she was writhing against him, grinding on his length like a cat in heat.

  Quinn’s mouth popped open on a rigid cry as every muscle clenched in concert. “Yes, Silas!” she cried, quivering as her release crashed into her, blacking out everything around her until all she could fathom was the pleasure rocking her world.

  Nearly limp from the force of her climax, she gasped as Silas rolled her to her back, throwing her legs over his shoulders. He loomed over her like a dark god, the sheen of their sweat gleaming in the soft light, the scent of their lovemaking a thick perfume in the room. As he went deeper than before, Quinn squeezed her eyes shut as another unexpected arrow of pleasure punctured her core.

  Silas showed no mercy, driving her toward yet another orgasm. Bent in half, she had no choice but to accept the sensual invasion. The knowledge she was powerless to stop whatever Silas wanted took her breath away with fresh arousal.

  She knew he wouldn’t hurt her but he would push the limits—that was sexy as hell.

  This time when Quinn tumbled into that abyss, Silas was right there beside her, shouting as he came, his thrusts hard and erratic as if he’d lost all control as well.

  She was alive with tiny pulses even as she struggled to catch her breath.

  Silas rose unsteadily, still buried deep inside her, the vision of their connection a heady thing. This was a mental snapshot she would keep for eternity.

  In all the world, there would be nothing sexier than this moment.

  Quinn swallowed, her mouth dry as Silas carefully withdrew, taking the briefest second to discard the condom before falling back to the bed beside her, his arm flung over his eyes as he recovered.