The Isolated Widow (The Widow Taker Book 2)

by Kennedy Layne

  Quinn quickly closed the door, not feeling guilty in the least that the young man was in mid-question. The large box was quite hot on the bottom, so she made her way through the living room of her townhouse and into the small kitchen. She set the pizza next to her stack of paper plates and napkins, not wanting Linc to think this was anything more than what it really was—a business dinner.

  The chime of her cell phone sounded from over on her desk, where she’d been digging more into Nick’s life. Aaron’s older brother, by one year, had gone on to live his life after the accident. He’d been the one to beg her not to tell their secret, and she’d foolishly agreed at the time thinking she could salvage something from the tragedy.

  What if he let it slip to someone before his death?

  Nick Rockwell could be the key Linc was looking for to identify The Widow Taker.

  Then again, Quinn could simply be following in a ghost’s footsteps, leading her further astray deeper into the void. Like a black hole, sooner or later, one drifted too far over the edge. There was a point they referred to as the event horizon, past the point one was doomed to be rushed by the blackness within. Here she was, teetering on the rim, playing the endless game of balancing on a knife’s edge.

  Would Linc be willing to offer her one more day before coming clean?

  She had her sources, ones that the FBI didn’t have. She could potentially find the answers she was seeking by tomorrow night. Of course, the opposite might be true. The FBI might have access to the simple truth a lot easier than even she could manage to dig.

  “Hi, Roger.” Quinn had seen her editor’s name on the display of her phone. He was probably wondering why she hadn’t submitted her article for tomorrow morning’s paper. It was nice to be freelance, and it was even better when it was for a small press. “Go ahead and fill the space with one of my previous human-interest pieces we discussed. I got tied up working on something all day.”

  Quinn winced when her words all but promised some exclusive news sometimes in the near future. Her tragic past wasn’t something she wanted shared with the whole world. The Rockwells wouldn’t appreciate their good name being smeared around town; not in connection with these grisly murders. That’s how they would look at it, and they’d already suffered enough from their loss.

  “Why couldn’t you give me a heads up, Quinn?” Roger demanded in that tone that had never been used on her. His staff? Yes, but he’d always been careful with her. She was one of the reasons his paper stayed afloat. She wasn’t one to pat herself on the back, but she would also never underestimate her value. “The feds have been all up my ass around here. Why the hell are they treating me like a suspect?”

  It took Quinn a moment to get over the implication of Roger’s announcement. She could only imagine his reaction when Agent Malone had shown up on his doorstep. She’d been following this investigation from the very first murder and before the feds had even been brought in on the case. Linc didn’t get involved in the footwork of running down leads. He usually remained at the station, refining his profiles and giving his input when needed.

  Lately, his sole focus seemed to be directly on her.

  “Roger, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Quinn answered honestly, sinking down into her desk chair. “What did Agent Malone want with you?”

  “Agent Malone? No, this guy’s name wasn’t Malone.” Roger seemed to have settled somewhat after she claimed to not know anything about what had taken place today. “It was an Agent Roche, and he actually wanted to know my whereabouts during the times of the murders. He treated me like I was some kind of suspect! The sheriff didn’t even have the nerve to show up with him. I’m telling you right now, no more favors for that asshole. I want you to write an article about this, Quinn. We’ll title it Feds Lashing Out, Harassing the Innocent People of Winter Heights!”

  Quinn couldn’t understand why Linc would do such a thing, especially given that his own profile stated that The Widow Taker was in his early thirties and his mother had been a widow. As far as she was aware, Roger was in his late fifties and his parents were both living, residing somewhere down south.

  Something else must have transpired during the day, and it had delivered Linc right to the man’s place of business. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what kind of information would have led to such a thing.

  “Roger, I swear to you that I didn’t know a thing about this.” Quinn wasn’t about to reveal to him that she was about to have dinner with the same federal agent who had all but accused him of murder. “Let me see what I can find out. Don’t print anything that involves the investigation. Give me time to ferret out some details from my sources.”

  Roger fell silent, although she could hear the presses running in the background. He’d already begun printing the classifieds, which was usually the first thing inked. He’d be kept busy for most of the evening, allowing her to figure out why Linc would even consider Roger a viable suspect given his previous profile.

  “Fine, but don’t take too long. And I want an exclusive, Quinn. Not another after the fact piece following your podcast.”

  “I can’t make any promises,” Quinn replied with her usual answer. They had the same routine every time they spoke on the phone. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Quinn disconnected the line, slowly setting her phone back onto her desk. What exactly had happened in the investigation today while she’d been involved with her little side show?

  She technically should have been the first to know, considering The Widow Taker had been reaching out to her. He’d been quiet since yesterday morning, though. Was that by design or had he run out of burner phones? Maybe he was at a drugstore somewhere right now buying up a dozen more.

  Her doorbell rang, causing her focus to switch from her phone to the front door. Her heart fluttered a bit that she was inviting a man into her home who might very well put her in handcuffs by the time she was done telling her story.

  Was she doing the right thing by trusting him?

  Truthfully, she’d gotten so used to only relying on herself as a confidant that the thought of baring her soul to him was quite daunting.

  Quinn pushed back her chair and stood, giving herself two more seconds to change her mind about this evening. She could simply tell Linc that she changed her mind about having dinner with him. She never technically promised him a story about her life or the connection that he believed existed between her and The Widow Taker.

  The doorbell rang again.

  It was now or never.

  Well, at least a postponement, of sorts.

  Quinn closed her eyes and slowly inhaled, deciding that she didn’t want this horrific weight on her shoulders anymore. She would tell her story, and Linc would have to decide on his own just how far he was willing to put himself into a cold case that had the possibility of having nothing to do with his current investigation.

  Her mind made up, she began to walk across the living room. The townhouse that she owned outright from the small life insurance policy that she’d acquired after her mother’s passing was perfect for the lifestyle she led as an investigative journalist. The end unit gave her the privacy she needed while the homeowner’s association took care of the outside maintenance, including what little lawn service she needed.

  What she hadn’t done yet was install one of those cameras on the doorbell. She’d ordered a unit online, which was currently sitting in its darling little smiley face box on her kitchen counter. She simply hadn’t found time at home long enough to install it herself. She was confident in the video she’d watched the other day that she could do it on her own.

  “Why would you accuse Roger of being The Widow Taker?”

  The question rolled off her tongue in a sharp tone before she could press her lips together. Maybe it had to do with the fact that Linc stood on her front step appearing as confident as he had last night. He always had an intense stare that screamed he knew something important that she didn’t, and it was d
isconcerting as hell.

  “Why would you swing the door open before knowing who rang the doorbell?”

  “I highly doubt that The Widow Taker would ring my doorbell repeatedly before he decided to kill me,” Quinn shot back, shifting so that Linc could enter her home. She made sure that she was far enough to the side that he didn’t have to brush up against her. “Besides, we’ve already established that I’m not a widow.”

  “Have we?” Linc asked, once again hinting that he knew of that fateful night.

  Quinn fell silent, not appreciating that he was already succeeding in making her doubt herself. Roger wasn’t The Widow Taker, and Linc didn’t know the true details about Aaron’s death. She had full faith and confidence in her assumptions.

  “Seriously, Linc. Why would you ask Roger for alibis on the nights in question?” Quinn noticed that Linc was surveying the interior of her townhome, taking in her décor. She was a minimalist. There was no need for sentimentality when it was all taken away in the end, anyway. She could only imagine the conclusions he’d drawn from the fact that there were no paintings hanging on the walls. “He doesn’t even fit your profile.”

  “My questioning Roger Ellington about his whereabouts had nothing to do with my belief that he could possibly be the unsub. Quite the contrary.” Linc was apparently done judging her. He slipped his hands inside the pockets of his winter jacket as his dark gaze finally settled on her. “I wanted to push his buttons to see if he’d cave on questions regarding the night Aaron Rockwell died on the cliffs overlooking the bay. It was a test, and one that confirmed my suspicions.”

  The mere mention of Aaron’s name had all the previous tension in her body returning with that horrendous weight attached to it. She’d never once mentioned his name. It wasn’t a surprise that Linc had figured out that she’d steadily dated someone very special back in high school. Honestly, it was a logical conclusion given her type of personality. She just thought she’d have more time since there had been another murder just yesterday.

  “Roger Ellington wrote two articles regarding Aaron’s death. Your name was never mentioned, and I thought briefly that your editor might have some insight into what actually happened back then.” Linc observed her response, but she did her best not to give one. “I pressed him a bit in our meeting about you, without mentioning Aaron, to see if that possibility was true. He panicked, became somewhat…”

  “Obstinate?” Quinn asked with a half-smile as she began to relax. She still had control of the narrative. The ball was in her court, and she could still tell her story in due time. “Roger can be uptight at times, especially when he feels his rights have been violated, but his heart is in the right place. Can I get you a beer or a soda?”

  Quinn waited for Linc to indicate his answer before giving him a wide berth as she made her way past him and into the kitchen. A quarter of the staircase separated the living room from the kitchen. She’d converted her dining room into an office, and the open layout allowed her to see most of the downstairs with the exception of some of the kitchen and the half bath located near the garage door. She walked to the fridge, allowing herself to take a deep breath without him seeing.

  He certainly had a way of rattling her nerves.

  “Did you take care of whatever it was that needed taking care of?” Linc asked, having made his way to the small island that was positioned between the kitchen and her office. She only had two stools on the opposite side, and he’d already pulled one out to claim. After using an opener on both bottles, she set one of them in front of him while remaining on the other side of the counter. “Or am I in for another runaround?”

  Linc had removed his jacket and was in the process of pushing up the sleeves on his black V-neck sweater. He wore a dress shirt underneath, but he had foregone the need for a tie. His casual style seemed in contrast with the firearm holster attached to the belt around his waist. Maybe that distinct contradiction was part of what made him so hard to figure out.

  On one hand, he came across as wanting to be a best pal. Yet he had an underlying intensity that warned he could be as lethal and ruthless as one’s worst enemy.

  “I never said I had anything to take care of,” Quinn countered, going through the motions of passing out the paper plates. She wasn’t hungry in the least. He was still actively fishing for something to help in the investigation. While she figured it was in her best interest to come clean, that didn’t mean she had to like it. “I didn’t know what you liked on your pizza, so I took a guess that you’re a meat lover.”

  “Very astute.” Linc gave her props while waiting for her to open the lid. He motioned for her to choose the first slice. “You requested one day before we met, which denotes you had something you needed to take care of.”

  “Let’s just say that it didn’t go as planned.”

  Quinn set the slice of pizza on her plate with a frown before wiping her fingers on a napkin. Eating pizza while having images of the past flash in her head was enough to make her nauseated. She took a swig of her beer instead.

  “Quinn?”

  The way her name fell off his lips drew her gaze to him, but it was the kindness radiating from his eyes that had her chest tightening. This was why she didn’t let anyone get too close to her. She wanted to believe more than anything that he had her best interest at heart, but he was basically a stranger with a badge and gun.

  A stranger who happened to be actively attempting to solve a murder investigation in which she played a vital role.

  She was nothing more than a means to an end. Of that, she was sure, and it was in her own best interest to remember that fact.

  He walked around the side of his vehicle, all the while deliberately scanning the area to ensure that no one was watching his movements. He took his time examining the shadows where adversaries could hide, as well.

  Some might chalk it up to paranoia, but he was well aware of his vulnerability.

  He preferred to call it playing it safe.

  Besides, taking precautions was how he’d managed to avoid getting caught by local law enforcement or the feds. It wouldn’t do to have either of those agencies get in the way of his civic duty.

  Once he was able to reassure himself that he wasn’t under surveillance, he popped the trunk of his car. It didn’t take him long to remove the cover of the spare tire. Inside was the bag full of burner phones that he’d purchased a while back. He’d made sure to buy them with cash, as well as in separate gas stations that didn’t have security cameras. After using each one, he made sure to destroy it and to discard the parts in various dumpsters around town.

  Unfortunately, he was down to three phones.

  Should he use one now to touch base with Quinn Simmons? Was now really the right time? He took one of the phones and ran two fingers over the plastic packaging, even going so far as to close his eyes to imagine her reaction when she received his next text. He could just picture her tentative expression upon realizing the message was from him.

  Quinn needed his help, the way he’d helped all the others. He could see it in her light brown eyes every time she smiled at him. Unfortunately, he still needed her ability to get his story out to the community. She was the only one he had leverage on, and he intended to use it as much as possible until that choice was taken from him.

  Then that decision would determine her fate, as well.

  His contribution to society was being misunderstood by the people of Winter Heights. His chest began to tighten at the stigma being placed on him, as if he was some kind of monster. The familiar rage that was always under the surface began to return. It wasn’t until he heard a woman’s laughter and the murmur of a man’s voice that he was able to tamp down the simmering embers.

  He quickly tossed the packaged cell phone back into the bag with the others before shoving them into the corner of the spare tire compartment. It took him a few seconds to put the cover back in place and quietly close the trunk of his car without the couple noticing him. They were too bu
sy being immersed in each other’s company to even see him amongst the other vehicles.

  Their happiness and love were the way he envisioned all couples should be in their relationship, whether here or in the afterlife. He’d thought it before, but he was like an angel with his wing dipped in blood for the greater good…so misunderstood.

  “Only I can make it better,” he muttered to himself as he pocketed his keys. “Me.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Eat,” Quinn directed him, covering up the fact that whatever had been on her agenda today hadn’t panned out. It was evident that she was considering keeping her cards close to her chest or possibly folding altogether. Unfortunately, Linc needed her to stay in the game. “Best pizza on this end of town.”

  Linc took her advice, but not because he was hungry. That went without saying. He’d had a long day and hadn’t even stopped for lunch.

  They ate in silence, with her standing on the other side of the counter. She was keeping space between them, but he’d done all he could to gain her trust. The next step was up to her. Should she decide to not come clean about why the unsub was fixated on her, he’d have to go about finding his answers another way.

  That might mean pushing her buttons and causing her to feel vulnerable.

  “Anything new on the case?” Quinn asked softly, after having picked apart her pizza in an effort to appear as if she was actually eating. “I haven’t heard anything from The Widow Taker. I’ll admit that I’m constantly on pins and needles waiting for my phone to ding that I have a text. Then there’s the moment before I look to see who it’s from.”

  “You give the unsub power every time you use that moniker, you know,” Linc replied after he’d swallowed a large bite. She’d been right about this pizza being good. It was the best he’d tasted since arriving in town. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before checking the name of the shop on the pizza box. He then backed up his previous statement. “He’s feeding off it.”