The Killer You Know

by Kimberly Van Meter

  It felt wrong to toss out a flippant comment and bounce like she normally would in light of what they’d just shared.

  But she couldn’t stay, either.

  Even though she wanted to.

  The idea of falling asleep just as they were, side by side, naked and spent, seemed the perfect end to the day.

  But even as the silly thought flitted across her brain, her eyes popped open on a frown.

  What was she thinking?

  Spend the night with Silas?

  Was she mental?

  If you want everyone to take you seriously, you have to start taking yourself seriously.

  Quinn rose abruptly and started to dress with the intent to leave when Silas said, “Stay.”

  A sharp pang of want and need nearly made her jump back to the bed but another part of her—the smarter part—stayed the course.

  She turned with a chagrined smile. “Sorry. Things get muddled when, you know, lines blur too much.”

  “How much more muddled could they get?” Silas challenged with a wry twist of his lips. “In case you missed that memo, I don’t tango with reporters...in any fashion. But you’re different.”

  “I am different,” Quinn agreed but she also set him straight. “But I’m going to do my job. Even if at the end of the day, what I need to do is in direct opposition to what you want me to do. And I don’t want anything to get in the way of that. If I stay the night with you, I might catch a case of the feels and I can’t afford that. And neither can you.” Damn, her heart ached delivering that message but it was for the best. “Sex with no strings attached. That was the deal. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Silas didn’t argue or try to persuade her differently and she was grateful. Quinn forced a bright smile, ending with, “You’re in charge of breakfast. Anything with cheese is good with me.”

  And then she left him there, lying naked in the bed they’d just completely destroyed, telling herself she was doing the right thing.

  Too bad, as victories went, the feeling was as flat and unsatisfying as day-old soda.

  But the climb to the top was lonely.

  She might as well get used to it.

  Chapter 15

  Lester wasn’t surprised when his lead detective—basically, his only detective—Harrison Dex walked into his office all full of piss and vinegar.

  “Since when do we need Feds to do our work?” he asked with a scowl. “That’s a fine howdy-do when I get to the office after a short three-day vacation to find that the biggest case Port Orion has ever seen has been handed off to a Fed for no good goddamn reason.”

  “Hold up, son. Watch yourself. I’m still your boss,” Lester reminded him, taking a moment to sip his coffee. “And the Fed used to be local. He’s just here to lend a hand.”

  “We don’t need him,” Harrison scoffed, openly offended. “You made me detective for a reason—my skill set. By right, this is my case.”

  “You sound like a spoiled teenage girl,” Lester grumbled. It was too early for this crap. “I made you detective because my choices were slim and frankly, Port Orion isn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. I wasn’t worried.”

  “That’s bullshit. You made me detective because I’m suited for the job. Don’t try to downplay my work history just because you’re dazzled by some Fed’s bullshit.”

  Lester wasn’t in the mood to placate the young man’s ego. His town was on the edge of falling apart and he was dealing with a serious case of regret for not retiring gracefully when he’d had the chance.

  “Are you finished?”

  “I want this case.”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “You heard me. Last time I checked, I was still sheriff so check your attitude before you find yourself demoted to something less...illustrious.”

  “So what am I supposed to do while this Fed is out there doing my job?”

  “We have other crimes, maybe not as horrible as a young girl’s tragic death, but crimes that need solving nonetheless.”

  Fate must’ve been PMSing, because right at that moment, the Fed in question strode in, looking the picture of quiet confidence, which only made Harrison look like a whiny bitch in comparison.

  “Do you have a minute?” Silas asked, bypassing Harrison, which only pissed off the man even more.

  “Yeah, sure,” Lester answered, gesturing for Harrison to take himself out. “Close the door, too.”

  Harrison shook his head as he muttered under his breath and then slammed the door behind him.

  “Was I interrupting something?” Silas asked.

  “Just a temper tantrum by a man old enough to know better. That was Harrison Dex, my detective. He just returned from vacation and found out that I’d given you lead on the case.”

  Silas nodded. “Sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

  Lester waved away Silas’s apology. “Don’t worry about him. Harrison is my problem. Tell me what you came to say. Something tells me it’s going to make the coffee curdle in my gut.”

  “I’d like to bring Brock Teichert in for questioning. I’ll also need a warrant for a cheek swab.”

  “Brock? The football player?”

  “Yeah, apparently, he was Rhia’s secret boyfriend and they had a major fight last weekend in front of a bunch of kids at a bonfire. He also has a rep for having a temper.”

  Lester rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s a good kid,” he said, hoping it was true. “I mean, helluva football player. That kid’s going places if he plays his cards right.”

  “Rhia’s pregnancy gives him motive.”

  “Ahh hell, Silas, he’s just a kid. There’s no way he did what someone did to Rhia. That poor girl’s neck was crushed.”

  “You know I have to bring him in. I’d like to use your interrogation room for the questioning.”

  Lester agreed wearily. What could he say? Silas was right. All leads had to be followed and even if he didn’t like to think that a star Port Orion football player had the stones to do something so awful to his own girlfriend, he couldn’t ignore the possibility.

  “So you’re thinking that he might be the father of Rhia’s baby,” Lester guessed, to which Silas shrugged. “Yeah, gotta rule him out if nothing else.”

  “We also need a warrant for Oliver Daniels.”

  Lester stared, uncomprehending. “Whatever for?”

  “There’s no way to say this delicately...we need to rule him out as a suspect.”

  “Her father?” Lester repeated, dumbfounded. “What the hell are you saying?”

  “I’m not saying anything. It’s just a precaution.”

  But Lester knew Silas was lying. “Out with it, Kelly,” he growled.

  “Rhia’s best friend Britain said the dad was weird, as in possessive over Rhia. You and I both know that kind of behavior is a red flag. We can get probable cause. Fathers aren’t supposed to see their daughters in that way. I hope I’m wrong. A DNA test will at least rule Mr. Daniels out as the father but if he was molesting Rhia, there’s no way we’ll ever know unless someone comes forward.”

  “Ah hell,” Lester exhaled, his acid reflux kicking up. “That’s just great.”

  “All we know at this point is that whoever fathered Rhia’s baby, their DNA was not in the database. A cheek swab will either confirm or deny paternity. We’ll go from there once we get the results.”

  “I don’t know which outcome I’m hoping for,” Lester admitted. “If either comes back positive, we’ll have a direction to head in but it makes me sick to think of it. If they come back negative, hell, we’re back to square one.”

  “It’s a difficult spot,” Silas agreed. “I wish there were easier answers.”

  Lester grimaced as a splash of stomach acid burned his throat. “There goes my co
ffee. Damn it all to hell.” He reached into his desk and shook out a handful of antacids, crunching them as he said, “Look, I want you to handle this with some delicacy. People are scared. I don’t want you to drag the kid into the station. Do it nice-like. He’s still a kid and his parents are good people. Hopefully, he’ll volunteer his DNA in an effort to help the investigation. As far as Oliver goes, I’ll have Dex go ask for the DNA so he can do it at home. No need in causing more suffering if it turns out the poor man is innocent.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff.” Silas went to leave but paused when he saw the newspaper on the edge of the desk. Lester hadn’t had a chance to open it yet.

  “May I?” Silas gestured with a mild frown.

  “Be my guest.”

  Silas grabbed the newspaper and his frown deepened. “Damn it.”

  That didn’t bode well. “What’s wrong?”

  Silas turned the front page toward Lester so he could see the main story.

  Murdered Teen Girl Pregnant.

  “Why’d she have to go and print that?” Lester groaned, freshly irritated. So far, his morning had been crap. This newest shock was just a steaming fresh pile. “What’s it say? I can’t read the tiny print that good anymore.”

  Silas read, “Recent forensic evidence has determined sixteen-year-old Rhia Daniels of Port Orion was pregnant when she was strangled to death. The paternity of the father has not been revealed. The investigation is ongoing. Anyone with information in regards to the young teen’s murder is urged to call the Port Orion tipline.” He paused to regard Lester. “Do you want me to keep reading? She goes on with some quotes from locals about Rhia, including a few from an unidentified teen.”

  Lester didn’t need to hear the rest. “Forget it. I can use my imagination. That girl is more trouble than she’s worth these days.”

  Silas folded the paper and returned it to Lester’s desk. “She’s doing her job,” he said, although Lester would’ve never expected Silas Kelly to be any reporter’s champion after what’d happened with Spencer.

  A germ of a thought came to Lester and he stared with suspicion at Silas. “Stay away from her. She’s just a kid,” he warned.

  “She’s not a kid. She’s an adult,” Silas disagreed, which didn’t sit well with Lester at all.

  “Look here, I gave you leave to help with this investigation but I won’t have you breaking hearts of good girls who’ve gotten in over their heads.”

  Silas chuckled. “I think you ought to let Miss Jackson figure out what she wants instead of trying to micromanage her life. But before you give yourself a coronary, calm down. I’m not breaking anyone’s heart.”

  Lester figured that was as much as he could hope for but a part of him knew Silas was right. Quinn had grown up at some point and she was itching to get out of this town.

  He grunted in agreement and motioned for Silas to get out.

  He’d had enough of everyone.

  And it wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet.

  * * *

  Silas found Quinn at Reba’s Diner waiting for him. He slid into the booth, his gaze lingering too long on the brightness of her eyes and the memory of her soft skin.

  It only took a second to realize he was stumbling down a dark road and pulled back.

  “Catchy headline. When’d you write that?”

  “The headline was Mick’s idea. I wrote the story after I left your hotel last night and emailed it just in time to make the morning print.”

  “Busy bee,” he murmured as he sipped his coffee, leaving his opinion at that. He wasn’t going to grab for the low-hanging fruit and jab at her for doing her job.

  “Got any opinions?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good.” The waitress came and took their order. When Quinn ordered a cheese omelet with extra cheese, his quizzical look was met with a flip, “What? I told you I liked cheese.”

  “That’s a serious commitment to cheese,” he said, smothering a smile.

  “This breakfast is on you. I paid for the protein bars and smoothies,” she told him with a cheeky smile that made him want to reach over and kiss her good morning.

  But he didn’t do anything of the sort and simply accepted her terms. He didn’t mind picking up the tab for breakfast.

  “So when are you bringing Brock in for questioning? I want to be there behind the glass when you do.”

  “For what purpose? You can’t write about anything that’s said. Besides, his parents might lawyer up and we could get nothing out of the boy aside from the cheek swab.”

  “I promise I won’t write about the interview. I just want to get a look at the kid while you question him. I want to see what my instincts tell me.”

  “Lester says the boy is a star athlete.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Not a huge football fan. Jocks were never my thing.”

  “No?”

  “Hell, no. I was in the yearbook club, journalism club, the French Club, and for a brief, excruciating time, in the photography club. No time for jocks or the silly politics of high school.”

  “Your uncle runs the photography club, doesn’t he?”

  “Exactly. I love my uncle Leo to death but I was being crushed by the weight of his expectations. He sucked the joy out of learning. I got out as soon as I could and nothing could’ve persuaded me to return. I love my uncle too much to destroy our relationship like that.”

  He chuckled softly then remembered. “He worked with Rhia, too.”

  “Yeah, so? He works with a lot of kids from the high school. Especially after he started subbing. For the life of me I have no idea why he’d want to be a substitute teacher. High school kids are the worst.”

  “He said she had real talent...that she reminded him of you.”

  “Really? He never mentioned it.” Quinn shrugged. “He doesn’t tell me everything. Thank God. Sometimes he can go on forever about composition and lighting. Not exactly scintillating conversation for someone who identifies as a lukewarm hobbyist.”

  Silas nodded, pausing while the waitress delivered their plates. Quinn wasted no time tucking into her omelet.

  “I’m starved today,” she said with a happy groan. “This hits the spot.”

  Then it was as if she recalled why her appetite was revved and her cheeks pinked.

  Silas nearly choked on his bacon. He cleared his throat with the intent of returning to the case, if only to save each other from an awkward silence but he took a detour instead. “Lester doesn’t want me to break your heart.”

  Quinn surprised Silas with an amused chuckle. “As if I would let anyone break my heart. That man is so protective. It’s like having two mother hens, except they’re both male instead of female.”

  “They’re pretty protective of you. Lester told me to keep my distance. I think he’s afraid I might steal your virtue or something.”

  Her cheeks pinked again and she bit her lip, a tiny action with the power to devastate his resolve. He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he returned to his breakfast, shoveling a few bites into his mouth before he could do or say something stupid.

  “What time are you bringing Brock in?” Quinn asked without missing a beat. “And what’s happening with Mr. Daniels? Are you going to get his DNA?”

  “We’re bringing Brock in after school. Lester wants this done quietly. Lester is going to send a deputy over to the Danielses to collect DNA privately to spare them any further pain.”

  “Of course he does,” Quinn murmured with disappointment. “Lester doesn’t want to upset the status quo. He’s not ready to accept that the town isn’t the same as it used to be.”

  “It’s a hard thing to accept,” Silas said in Lester’s defense. “When something shakes your foundation...it’s hard to feel safe anywhere. Everyone looks suspect and no place is secure enough.”

>   Quinn regarded him keenly. “Is that how you felt after Spencer died?”

  He saw no reason to lie. “Yes.”

  “So you went into law enforcement to help make the world a safer place,” she supposed.

  “I guess. All my brothers went into law enforcement.”

  “That’s quite an impact. Are they all in violent crimes?”

  “Sawyer does white-collar crime but Shaine does undercover stuff in narcotics. Shaine was always an adrenaline junkie. He gets off on the danger.”

  “What do you get off on?”

  That wasn’t an innocent question. Or maybe he was reading into it but his pants immediately felt tight. He held her gaze. “Careful,” he warned softly. Her pupils dilated and he knew the question hadn’t been innocent at all. “What are you doing?”

  “Hopefully, you in about ten minutes.” She rose and grabbed her purse and jacket. “I’ll see you back at your hotel for a debrief.”

  And then Quinn left the diner. Silas took all of five seconds to throw a wad of cash on the table—leaving what was probably a monster tip—and followed.

  Even as he told himself to put a stop to what was happening between him and Quinn, it was just lip service.

  He didn’t want to stop.

  He wanted more.

  Hell, he was practically free-falling into a morass of bad, career-wrecking decisions and yet...he couldn’t get to his hotel fast enough.

  Chapter 16

  Quinn left Silas’s hotel room later that morning, sated and sleepy, but since she had time to kill before Silas picked up Brock after school for questioning, she returned home to quickly shower to perk up.

  She was surprised to see Uncle Leo still at home but judging by the glower on his face, he wasn’t happy about something.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, pausing in the doorway of the living room.

  “We need to talk, young lady.”

  “Well, that sounds ominous,” Quinn joked, stepping out of the hall and into the room. “What’s up?”

  “Lester just told me you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with Silas Kelly and I don’t like it.”