The Killer You Know

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Quinn tried to calm her breathing but tears were threatening to fall. Damn him. She gathered the files and hurried from the station.

  She couldn’t stay there for another minute.

  * * *

  Silas called Quinn but when it went to voice mail, he left a quick message that he’d found Sara’s sister and he was headed out to talk with her.

  Why didn’t she answer? His first thought went straight to that dickhead detective. It still burned that he was doing nothing to put that man straight but he was trying to respect Quinn’s boundaries.

  It bothered him that he felt so protective over Quinn. As much as he told himself to drop it and move on, his thoughts stubbornly returned along with a growl when he pictured Quinn’s ashen expression.

  He didn’t like Quinn going back to the station without protection.

  But seeing as she was determined to handle the situation on her own, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  And that plain sucked.

  Sara’s sister, Emily, lived outside town on a small piece of property that overlooked the ocean. The view was tourist-friendly—meaning it was one of those places that begged for a selfie with the obnoxious hashtags, #bestviewever, #vacay, #watchthatfirststep, and Silas wondered why she chose to live so far away from town.

  With a final scan around the property, he knocked on the front door.

  A woman with frazzled gray hair and suspicious eyes answered, looking about as unwelcome as a hissing cat. “Who are you?” she asked, looking up at him with distrust. “What do you want?”

  He produced his badge. “I’m Silas Kelly with the FBI. I was wondering if I could talk to you about your sister, Sara.”

  Emily blinked as if she hadn’t been expecting his request but after another quick perusal of his credentials, she let Silas follow her into the house.

  Cats darted from beneath sofas and chairs and the smell of ammonia pinched at his nose. He hated the smell of cats. A multitude of unkempt cats was the worst.

  Emily sank into a worn chair and eyed Silas warily. “What do you want to know about Sara?”

  Silas took a seat on the sofa, grimacing when he saw a crusted piece of cat crap on the sofa cover beside him. This place ought to be condemned. “Were you close?”

  “I guess. She took care of me,” Emily said. “Managed my trust for me.”

  A trust account. Silas realized Emily probably suffered from some sort of mental challenge, which explained the multitude of cats and the dismal living conditions.

  “I need to ask you some personal questions about your sister. Is that okay?”

  Emily nodded as she picked up a cat and dragged it into her lap. The cat growled with displeasure but didn’t try to flee. “She’s been dead a long time now. Why the interest now? I tried to tell the cops that someone set her up but no one listened.”

  “Who do you think set up your sister?”

  “Damned if I know. All I know is that she was onto something and whoever was guilty must’ve got twitchy because right before my sister was going to send all her information to you guys, she died.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sara had a whole mess of papers, evidence she was going to send to the FBI because she knew no one in Port Orion was going to help her. But she died before she could.”

  “Sara had a contact with the Bureau?” he asked.

  “No, not yet. She was waiting for the final piece of the puzzle. That’s what she kept saying. And I think she got what she was looking for but then they killed her.”

  “Who?”

  “Dunno.” The angry pull of her mouth vied with the grief in her gaze, and Silas knew the frustration she must have felt, being so helpless. “All I know is that my sister was a good woman but no one wants to hear that. All they want to talk about is how she liked to drink. Yeah? So what. Drinking ain’t a crime.”

  “Sara used to work for the newspaper but she also used to write her own blog about stuff going on in Port Orion. Do you remember that?”

  “Yeah, she used to read it to me. It was good stuff. I liked Sara’s stories.”

  “Do you know if they were real stories or made up?”

  “Real,” Emily answered with a definitive nod. The cat hissed and jumped from Emily’s lap, scratching Emily in the process. She rubbed at the long scratch but otherwise didn’t react. “Sara said there were lots of bad people in Port Orion and it was her job to tell the world but no one would take her serious so she started writing stuff on the computer.”

  “Do you know the names of the bad people?” he asked.

  Emily snorted as if he was an idiot for asking. “Don’t you think if I knew names I’d have told someone by now?”

  He supposed that was true, though he suspected Emily had social anxiety, which probably kept her close to home.

  “Has someone threatened to hurt you if you tell anyone what you know?”

  “Sara spent all her time writing her computer stuff and she died for it. I don’t need anyone coming around threatening me to know that it’s better if I keep to myself.”

  “It’s really important that you tell me what you know. If Sara was killed for writing something someone didn’t want anyone to know, then she deserves justice and the only way to get justice is to put away the person or people who had her killed.”

  “Like it’s that easy,” Emily scoffed. “Don’t you think that if Sara was able to, she would’ve?”

  “Sara was alone. I’m not.”

  Emily sniffed, more grief creeping into her expression. “Sara was a good sister. She took real good care of me.”

  “It’s been implied that Sara was an alcoholic.”

  Emily jerked an angry shrug. “What if she was? Does that mean what they did to her was right?”

  “Of course not,” he murmured but he needed to know more. “Did Sara have a drinking problem?”

  “I wasn’t an easy sister.”

  That was as much an admission as he would probably get. Silas could only imagine the stress Sara endured as her sister’s caregiver.

  “Was she drinking the night she died?”

  “No.”

  There was no pause in her recollection; Emily was solid in her memory of that night.

  “Sara got a call and she left. She didn’t tell me where she was going. And she never came back.”

  “Who administers your trust now that Sara is gone?”

  “Sara set up an account for me. The money is put in my account each month. I never have to leave the house, except to check the mailbox at the end of the driveway.”

  Sara must’ve known she was playing with dangerous company and wanted to ensure her sister would be cared for if something happened to her.

  “Sara mentioned someone with the initial of ‘X.’Do you know who ‘X’ was?” he asked.

  “Someone important. Someone who didn’t like to be talked about.”

  “But did Sara ever mention a name?”

  Emily fell silent. If Sara had shared details, Emily was determined to keep that information buried.

  “Do you know who ‘S’ was?”

  “That little boy.”

  Silas’s chest tightened. “What little boy?”

  “The one that died at Seminole Creek.”

  “Was his name Spencer?” Silas asked, his chest aching from the breath he was afraid to breathe.

  “Yeah.”

  It was the first time Silas actually felt hope that he was finally on the right path. Even if the path was rocky as hell and likely to kill him.

  “Sara felt real bad about the poor kid. She’d wanted to catch who’d done it to him.”

  “Do you think she knew who killed Spencer?”

  “She didn’t say but I think
she was figuring things out. I think that’s what the call was about. She seemed real excited when she left. That was the last time I saw her.”

  “Do you know why Sara was taking advances on her checks at the paper?”

  Emily shook her head but she did share, “Sara was sleeping with her boss. Maybe he was helping her out.”

  Had Mick been paying for Sara’s silence? Or was it completely unrelated?

  “Do you have copies of Sara’s blog backed up anywhere?” he asked, though he knew the chances were slim.

  As expected, Emily shook her head. “I didn’t have her password. Eventually, the account closed because I couldn’t pay the bill.”

  “You never printed out a copy or anything like that?” he asked, grasping at straws.

  “Maybe...but I don’t know where it would be now.”

  Probably used to line the kitty litterbox by this point, he realized. As much as he wanted to shake the information out of Emily Westfall, he knew it wouldn’t do much good. Emily had shared as much as she was able. “Thank you for your help,” he said, rising.

  Emily rose and shoved her hands in her pockets. “My sister was a good person. Better than me. She stuck around when I couldn’t take care of myself no more. I hope you find who did this to her. She deserved better than she ever got.”

  Silas nodded and let himself out, breathing deep the fresh, salty air. Too many cats. One socially awkward woman hiding behind four walls, insulated from the world.

  He didn’t exactly get the answers he was hoping for but somehow the information he did get felt important.

  Time to see if Quinn managed to get her hands on that accident report.

  Chapter 20

  Quinn grabbed Chinese food and met Silas back at the hotel. The food was more of a pretense so that she could occupy her hands because her stomach was pitching a fit.

  She hadn’t wanted to admit it but Silas was right; Harrison was a bigger problem than she realized.

  But she wasn’t in a position to do much about it. Not until this case closed.

  Silas opened the door and smiled instantly. The warmth in his gaze made her wonder how she’d ever thought him cold. He practically burned with heat. When he looked at her with that combination of hunger and desire, it was a wonder Quinn could remain upright.

  Yeah, weak in the knees—never saw that coming.

  But it’d happened, so why fight it?

  Silas pulled her straight to him for a searing kiss, barely pausing to register the box of food in her hand.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked against his mouth, unaware of when the box left her fingers. Somehow Silas had relieved her of it and slid it onto the small table before walking her to the bed.

  “Starved,” he answered, pulling her shirt over her head. Her head fell back with delight as Silas’s hot mouth blazed a trail down the column of her neck. “But not for Kung Pao chicken.”

  “Good, because I brought—” she gasped “—broccoli beef.”

  He growled and hoisted her into his arms to carry her the short distance to the bed. She shivered at the feel of all that muscle coiling beneath the skin, strong and virile.

  Everything about Silas was masculine, from the way he held her gaze like a predator watches its prey to the way he managed to make her feel protected.

  Silas helped her out of her jeans, pressing tiny kisses on each spot on her skin where a mark had been left behind, until he brushed a kiss across her covered mound, teasing her with his hot breath on her feminine folds.

  She writhed, lifting her hips with short mewling pleas as he slowly sucked the thin fabric into his mouth, the combination of anticipation and pleasure mixing into a heady cocktail of need.

  “Silas,” she said, his name slipping from her lips like a desperate prayer, “I need you, please.”

  “So sweet,” he murmured as he gently pulled her panties free from her hips to toss to the floor. Silas gazed at her with total possession in his eyes. She shivered, secretly loving the unspoken exchange between them. Her eyelids fluttered shut on a groan as he buried his face between her folds.

  “Oh!” Quinn moaned, losing herself to the exquisite mastery of Silas’s touch. One finger—in and out—two fingers—in and out—now three all while driving her mad with his tongue.

  Silas was merciless in his pursuit of her pleasure. Quinn happily gave herself to him, sinking into that swirling abyss of abandon without reservation.

  No one could touch her like Silas did.

  Moisture leaked from the corners of her eyes as the extreme pleasure made her cry, her spread legs quaking without control.

  “S-Silas!” She crashed into a wall, spinning out as wave after wave of sensation washed over her, every muscle clenching in a wondrous release.

  “Oh God, I needed that,” Quinn said, weak as a starved kitten. But Silas wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Silas thrust inside her, anchoring her hips as he drove into her tight sheath. As she knew it would, another orgasm began to build. Silas gave her no mercy and she wanted none.

  Within moments Quinn lost herself to another wave, crying out as Silas found his release at the same time. Sweat dampened their bodies as they collapsed to the bed, breathing hard, hearts beating like frantic rabbits.

  It was several moments before either could speak.

  Silas quietly discarded the condom she hadn’t even realized he’d put on—another reason she was addicted to him, he took control of every facet—and grabbed a bottled water from the mini fridge to hand to her.

  She accepted it with murmured thanks and guzzled the water before falling back on the bed, content to lie naked as her body slowly stopped pulsing.

  Silas finished his own water and tossed it into the trash before dropping into the chair at the small table.

  “You know, this could become a habit.”

  Quinn smiled hazily and rolled to her side. “What makes you think it’s not already?”

  He chuckled but didn’t dispute it. Silas peeked into the box and grabbed a spring roll.

  “So honey, how was your day?” he asked half-seriously.

  Quinn laughed but behind the laughter was the horrid memory of Harrison’s threat. She swung her legs over the side to grab her discarded panties and shimmied them over her hips. “Fine. I got the report.”

  “Yeah? Let me see it.”

  Quinn gestured to the box as she slid her jeans on. “It’s under the box.”

  Silas lifted the box the Chinese food was in and found the folder. He opened it up and started reading. The report was all of two pages with very little information that was helpful, which was what Quinn had already discovered.

  “There’s nothing here,” Silas said with a frown.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “For a fatal accident, this report is pretty bare. Aside from an incredibly high BAC level, there’s nothing else.”

  Quinn shrugged. “I guess they figured it was an open and shut case. I suppose this confirms that Sara was an alcoholic.”

  “She may well have been an alcoholic but according to her sister, Emily, Sara hadn’t been drinking the night she died.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much, just that Sara got a call and ran out of the house, excited. That was the last time Emily ever saw her sister.”

  “But that’s not to say that she didn’t stop at a bar first,” Quinn reasoned. “I mean, it’s hard to fake a BAC.”

  “Is it?”

  His question stopped her short. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s just a typed report. Who’s to say that anyone couldn’t input that information and no one would be the wiser? Nor would anyone question it because Sara was known to drink.”

  Quinn gasped at the magnitude of what
Silas was suggesting. “Do you really think someone would risk their career to falsify an official document?”

  He chuckled at her shock. “Honey, I’ve seen people do a lot worse for less reason.”

  That left her reeling. This case was getting bigger and bigger. “How do we find out if the report was falsified?”

  “Barring someone coming forward and admitting it? We can’t. But Emily confirmed that ‘S’ was Spencer, which means someone didn’t like what Sara was putting out there.”

  Confirmation of the identity of one of the initials left her giddy. “That’s amazing. We’re finally onto something,” she said. “Now what?”

  Silas’s pensive expression worried her. “What’s wrong?”

  “We have a lot of tiny leads that ultimately run in circles. We’re missing a key component and I’m running out of time to find something.”

  That caught her attention. “What do you mean?”

  “My superior gave me the time to come here but if I don’t come up with something solid, I’ll have to leave and return to Chicago.”

  “You can’t go,” she protested. “We’re finally getting somewhere.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Trust me, I want to believe with all my heart that we are onto something critical but I can’t make a case out of bits and pieces of circumstantial evidence.”

  Frustration ate at her. He was right. They needed something big, a break of some sort to crack this case wide open.

  “So you’ll just walk away?” she asked.

  “Maybe this case was never meant to be solved.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Hell, I don’t know what I believe anymore.”

  Quinn heard the desperation in his tone, the frustration that champed at his heels. This case was more than personal to him. It was everything.

  To walk away with only the tease of closure...had to be excruciating.

  Quinn rose and wrapped her arms around his neck as she settled onto his lap. “Then we will find something so big that you can’t walk away,” she told him, sealing her mouth to his.

  Because of Silas, this case was more to her than just a ticket out of Port Orion.