“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Bright said in a hoarse tone as Linc walked around the end of the bar to find that Quinn had dragged a stool up close to hers. Brighton ran a hand over his face, as if to stem the tide of tears that would no doubt fall at some point. His grief was evident. “We reconnected when I moved back here. She had a hard life, you know?”
“How so?” Linc asked, not able to let a comment like that slide. It fed right into the discussion they needed to have tonight. The man deserved a moment of privacy to grieve, but he also deserved justice for the death of his friend. “From what I understood, Rhonda grew up here with both parents and extended family.”
Quinn quietly handed Linc his coffee, though she was still quite pale from her discovery. She’d composed herself quickly, though. She’d been a tremendous help keeping all the patrons inside until additional support had arrived at the pub. She had an inner strength that he admired, and she hadn’t left Brighton’s side since he’d been notified of Rhonda’s death.
“She’s been in and out of rehab over the years, but she finally got clean around the time that I moved back to town.” Brighton wasn’t drinking coffee, but instead stared down at the bottom of what looked like a glass of whiskey. He polished it off in one swallow. “I just can’t believe that she’s gone.”
He gave Brighton time to compose himself. Linc took a drink of his coffee, appreciating the warmth after having been outside in the cold for hours. He usually wasn’t the one to handle these types of questionings, and he didn’t look forward to the next few moments.
“Mr. Brighton, you—”
“Bright. Just Bright.”
The pub owner stood on the rungs on the stool and leaned over the counter of the bar. He came back with a bottle of alcohol from the well that confirmed Linc’s assumption that the brown beverage in the glass had been whiskey.
“Bright, you had suspicions that she’d started using again, didn’t you?” Linc broached the subject gently, garnering a double take from Quinn.
“You think she…” Quinn rested an elbow on top of the bar, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Now that I think about it, she was taking longer breaks. Sometimes she’d be overly chatty, and other times she would be completely withdrawn. I’ve had so much going on that I really never gave it another thought.”
And those were the exact reasons that Bright and the other employees were probably well aware that Rhonda had slipped back into her old habits. Linc observed Bright closely, catching sight of the man’s guilt as it came to the surface.
“Paul and I had a couple of discussions about it,” Bright confessed, pain and grief etched into his features. “Paul was the one who noticed it first. I said I’d keep an eye on her, and I failed. Oh, God. How am I going to tell Paul? He’s at home with his wife, a baby due any day. He had the night off. This is going to absolutely crush him.”
“Linc, are you saying that Rhonda was murdered by her dealer?” Quinn asked, disbelief lacing her tone.
“No, I don’t believe so, but I was hoping you could answer a question for me,” Linc said, directing his expectation toward Bright. “Why was Paul suspicious that Rhonda had started using again?”
“He caught her going into my office a couple of times over the last month. She said it was just to make some private phone calls, but it was odd enough that he brought it to my attention.”
“I believe that Rhonda was shutting down your camera feed that monitored the back alleyway.” Linc gave them his summary, seeing no reason not to now that the unsub had done something in his own mind that he couldn’t take back. The course had changed, and they all needed to wait for the turn signal to be flipped to determine which direction this case was about to take. “The unsub either knew that she was meeting with her dealer or he came upon her in the alley by accident. Either way, I’m assuming Rhonda had tuned in to Quinn’s podcast. Most of the locals would have connected Olivia Harper’s name as the source who gave us the unsub’s identity. She must have made a connection to whoever showed up in that alleyway today, he realized it, and he killed her without thinking the consequences through.”
“Wait,” Bright exclaimed, slamming his glass down on the bar. “You know who The Widow Taker is? You know who killed Rhonda?”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Linc said evasively, warning Quinn to follow his lead. “Listen, I have to get to the station. I know you have calls to make, so we’ll leave you to do that. The alley is still cordoned off with crime tape, and it will need to stay that way for a couple of days in case the forensics team needs to come back. A couple of state police cruisers will be out there tonight, and there will be a relief officer with a detective after that to make sure no one gets any ideas about crossing the line until we release the scene.”
“But you said that Olivia gave you a name,” Bright countered in frustration, standing when both Linc and Quinn pushed their stools back in place. “Are you looking for him? Is it someone we know?”
“I can’t share that information with you quite yet.” Linc reached for Quinn’s jacket that had been laid over her backpack. He held it up for her while cutting off any more questions that Bright might ask. “It’s still an ongoing investigation, Bright. When we have something to share with the public, we will do so accordingly.”
Bright set his hand on top of his head and made as if he was going to walk away, but he turned back just as quick. He was emotional, and the fact that he was being kept in the dark had fueled his anger. It was natural for people to grab onto anything else besides the constant overwhelming grief.
“Bright, they have a job to do,” Quinn offered in an attempt to calm him down. She stepped forward after adjusting her coat to try and mitigate any hard feelings, but Linc believed it was a bit too late for that. Bright had been mistaken previously for the unsub after entering Kenna Burke’s residence without invitation, and he had some pent-up anger that would likely last a while. “They can’t tip their hand until he’s caught.”
“I’ve got calls to make,” Bright said in a clipped tone before grabbing his glass and bottle off the counter. He walked away with one more statement thrown over his shoulder. “You can see yourselves out.”
“Let him go, Quinn,” Linc advised softly, sliding his arms through his coat before reaching for his gloves that he’d shoved into one of the pockets. “He just wants answers that we can’t give him right now.”
Being in the darkened pub without any patrons was rather odd. The music had been turned off shortly after the body had been found, leaving a rather hollow sound to the place as the patrons were dismissed a few at a time. The bar would no longer be the safe sanctuary where people came to unwind and share stories about their day. Blood had been spilled from one of their own, and a horror like that couldn’t be wiped away with any amount of disinfectant spray.
“He’s hurting so much, and all we did was—”
“Quinn.” Linc stepped in front of her so that her gaze focused on him instead of the direction that Bright had taken toward his office. “All we did was postpone what he really needs here, and that is to hear that we apprehended Rhonda’s killer. Nothing else will suffice at this point.”
“And you believe we’re close to doing that?” Quinn asked quietly, for the first time wrapping her arms around him instead of herself. It was progress. “I truly hope so, Linc. I’m not sure this town can take much more before it all flies apart.”
What had he been forced to become?
He’d washed his hands numerous times, but he could still see the thick red layer of blood…Rhonda’s blood.
As he sat behind the steering wheel of his car, it took everything in him not to break down. He’d begun to build something beautiful in Winter Heights, and he was now going to have to give it all up.
He’d become a monster, and not the savior he’d wanted to be.
He’d killed someone in cold blood. There had been no peace for her, no long-awaited reunion with her significant other, and no singl
e, long-stemmed rose as an offering for a new beginning.
Rhonda’s life had been taken much too early, and he was the one responsible.
His anger broke through his practiced veneer, and he screamed while pounding on the steering wheel. He screamed until his voice was hoarse and his lungs were left with no oxygen.
No.
He wasn’t the one responsible.
He could see that now.
The person to blame was really Olivia Harper.
And to think that he’d considered her a friend. He should have realized what her true feelings were in regard to his commitment to the widows of this town. Hadn’t he heard her say that The Widow Taker was nothing more than a vicious monster?
A monster that she’d turned him into today.
Well, she would get to meet the monstrosity that she’d unleased with her so-called truth. He would allow his inner beast to take over one more time before putting him back in the cage.
There was only one thing he needed to do before then…
“And only I can make it better…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Quinn, you’ve been staring at a blank screen for at least twenty minutes,” Linc said, rubbing the exhaustion from his own eyes in sympathy. “Take a break. We still have a lot of files to sort through, and you don’t have to submit an article to Roger tonight.”
“Yes, I do.”
Quinn pushed her chair back from the conference room table and rested her head against the tall black cushion. She’d been on the phone most of the last hour with Roger and Katie while Linc and Deputy Evans had been scouring files that were being put together from various databases. They were confident that the answer lay within one of the staff members of the pub, most likely in the form of a significant other who hadn’t been vetted and flagged from a previous cursory background check.
Her conversation with Katie had resulted in an even more determined reporter wanting a story. She was a smart woman, and she’d known all along that she was being played. It hadn’t mattered to her when the end result would be a ground-breaking story.
Unfortunately, Katie had decided to camp out across the street from Olivia Harper’s residence for the night.
It wasn’t like Quinn could argue with Katie’s decision to remain at the scene of the most prominent story in the local news for the last seven months. The woman’s life revolved around her career. There was no doubt that Katie would be leaving Winter Heights by the end of the year. She had higher aspirations, and they included one of the major networks.
Unfortunately, a news van parked in front of Olivia Harper’s residence meant only one thing—there wasn’t a chance in hell that The Widow Taker was going to make an appearance tonight.
“Dean is talking to Katie now, working out a deal that will give her the exclusive interview with Olivia once we sort this all out,” Linc said without even glancing her way. He was doing that thing of his where he could read her thoughts. “It’s still relatively early. The news van can still leave the scene to give the unsub his needed window of opportunity.”
“It’s annoying, isn’t it?” Grant Evans said wryly from his seat across the table. Unlike Linc, he appeared to want to give his eyes a rest from the small print that he’d been staring at for hours. He shoved some papers into a manila folder and tossed it onto a small pile. “He does it to Agent Malone all the time. I figured out that he picks up on small tells from a person that he gets to know really well. What they are, I don’t know, but it’s a great weapon to have in the arsenal.”
Grant stood up and stretched his back. He’d been the one printing papers from the various databases, basically compiling dossiers for Linc to comb through. Once he found something that could link the individual to the profile, they would have a lead to explore.
Right now, all that could be done was the grunt work.
“I’m going into the kitchen to steal one of Jonah’s energy drinks. Anyone want anything?”
“No, thanks,” Quinn replied, shutting her laptop when she realized that maybe Linc was right. She had no idea where to go with her article, and it was always best to step away and figure out another angle instead of writing something that wasn’t worth being published. She waited for Grant to leave the conference room to say what had been on her mind. “I went to see Mr. and Mrs. Rockwell last week.”
Linc’s fingers stilled over his computer.
She hadn’t meant to blurt out something so significant at such an inappropriate time. Honestly, witnessing Rhonda’s sightless eyes while her dead body had been propped up next to a dumpster had given Quinn a bit of perspective that she hadn’t been expecting.
Anyone with a heart in that situation would have taken a step back and evaluated his or her life.
“I know.”
Quinn had been expecting a variety of reactions from her admission, but his acknowledgement of something she’d attempted to keep hidden hadn’t been one of them.
“I should have known not to trust Jordan,” Quinn muttered, having truly thought that she and Deputy Jordan had come to some type of understanding. “The sheriff really needs to do a better job at sifting through those resumes.”
The rumbling sound of the vent overhead began to emit air from its place next to the discolored ceiling. Heat began to pour through the dusty slats. For many years, she would have welcomed the warmth. She did so now, but not in the soul-craving way as before.
She’d started this conversation, but she had never planned to have it in the middle of the police station. Grant would be waltzing back into the conference room at any minute. She didn’t have long to share her personal insight with Linc, but tonight taught her that time shouldn’t be wasted.
Rhonda would never get to pay off her car. She would never get the chance to turn her life around one more time. She’d never get the chance to be loved by another.
“Quinn, we can talk about this when—”
“No.”
Linc had rolled his chair to the left, grabbing the arms of hers so that he could pull her close. They were knee to knee, and she took the opportunity to grab his hands. The warmth her soul had needed had been fulfilled by his presence in her life. She’d figured that out weeks ago, but her guilt had prevented her from allowing it to take up residence.
How could she get that across to him in a way that made sense?
“I need to say this to you, Linc.” Quinn tightened her hold on his hands as she looked into his eyes. He smiled tenderly at her as he lifted their hands together and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “Fine. You already know what I’m going to say, but I’m not going to let you steal this moment from me. Do you have any idea how frustrating that is?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am not a psychic,” Linc said, a hint of vulnerability that she never would have associated with him lining his words. “Believe it or not, there are times that I need to hear the words for myself.”
“Good, because tonight…well, tonight opened my eyes in a way that I hadn’t been prepared for,” Quinn admitted, grateful that they were still holding onto one another. “I could have been Rhonda. I was Rhonda, at one point in my life.”
Linc frowned, but Quinn continued before he could interrupt and try to correct her.
“Not in the way you think, but in all the ways that mattered.” Quinn was a journalist, so she was rarely at a loss for words. She cleared her throat and tried again. “A small part of me died the day that Aaron fell off that cliff. The guilt ate away at the rest of what was left over the years, and I was basically a shell just going through the motions in an attempt to regain who I was when all of this happened. I’m not sure I’ll ever reclaim the piece of me that Aaron took with him, but I do know that the rest of my heart is still beating. I don’t know what the future holds, but I do know that I’d love a chance to sit down at a dinner table with your parents.”
Linc had mentioned the Sunday night dinners he had with his parents quite often. In his mind, they repr
esented the type of union that he’d been searching for and wouldn’t settle for less. It spoke to a family’s unity that was rare nowadays, and she was no longer scared by that after witnessing how fleeting life could be.
“You have no idea how many times I thought I’d have to walk away from this case and go about my life as if we hadn’t met,” Linc revealed, taking his right hand and wrapping his fingers around her neck so that his thumb rested against her cheek. “I don’t know what transpired during your meeting with the Rockwells, but I’m so grateful that they gave you the closure you needed.”
“Let’s just say that I think you were right about them knowing the truth about what really happened that night. Nick must have told them, or they just pieced it together over the years. Either way, they’re at peace. Maybe I just didn’t want to see it before, but I went into their home on Friday with a different outlook.” Quinn turned her head so that she could kiss the palm of his hand, grateful that he’d given her the ability to see the situation in a unique light. “I’ve found myself, Linc. And I want you to finally get to know me.”
“I’d love nothing more,” Linc replied, leaning forward and about to kiss her when he had to pull away at the sound of the door opening. That didn’t stop him from issuing her a promise. “To be continued.”
“I’m keeping you to that,” Quinn warned, a weight taken off her shoulders now that she’d taken a step toward her future instead of standing in place with a pair of cement shoes on her feet.
It was beyond freeing, and she wished that Rhonda were still here to share it with. They hadn’t been the best of friends, but one could argue that Quinn had spoken more to Rhonda over the last few months than anyone else. It was high time that Quinn allow others into her life, and she had already started with Linc.
She wouldn’t have had it any other way.
“Agent Roche,” Deputy Jordan said as he entered the room. She’d been expecting Grant, but the urgency in the deputy’s tone told her that they weren’t about to pick up the investigation where they’d left off. Something else had happened. “Someone from 911 just dispatched one of our deputies to a stabbing of a widow on the outskirts of town. The ambulance is already on the scene. I recognized the address, though.”
The Isolated Widow (The Widow Taker Book 2) Page 21