“I didn't do anything,” Quinn said.
I glanced down and shifted the toe of my shoe so it was under the stick I'd used to stir the ashes. I didn't have my purse with me, so I didn't have any of my EDC goodies, but I could use whatever was nearby. With a simple kick, I could have the stick in my hand without needing to bend over.
“Tell me what you know,” Quinn said. “Why are you snooping around?”
“Chip knows,” I said. “He asked me to follow you around town and find out who you're having an affair with.”
“No, he didn't. Chip would never do that.”
“He did. Ask his cousin, Brianna. She was at my shop when he came by to meet with me.”
She swore under her breath and said his name.
“Quinn, you two can work it out,” I said. “It's the photographer, right? Dwayne Greer?”
She blinked. “What?”
“That's who you were having an affair with. You were on your way to meet the photographer on Monday, the day you saw me at my store. The day Michael Sweet was killed. You were with the photographer that day. It's why you were dressed up in that short dress with the high heels.”
Her gaze shifted from me to the burn barrel. If I'd had any uncertainties about the burned metal having come from Quinn's spike heels, they were gone now. She hadn't been with the photographer that day. The police had questioned Dwayne Greer because he'd visited the open house two days before the murder, and his name had been in the visitor log. He was not a suspect, because he'd been in another city all day Monday. Which meant he hadn't been meeting with Quinn.
“That's right,” Quinn said, taking my bait. “I was meeting Dwayne that day. But it meant nothing to me. It was purely physical. That's all. You can't tell my husband.”
“I won't tell Chip.” But I will tell the police that you're a killer.
She seemed to pick up on my thoughts. “Liar!” She finally moved her arms, revealing what she'd been holding behind her back.
It wasn't a knife, or a gun. But it was also much more terrifying than the stick I had by my foot. It was an ax, probably taken from the wall of the barn. How the hell was I supposed to protect myself from attack by ax?
“You're a tattletale,” she growled. “You probably already told him. Is that why he's been acting strange lately?”
I kicked up the stick and caught it in my hand. It wasn't much of a weapon compared to the ax, and would splinter in half with one whack, but it was longer than her weapon. I could use it as a lance, poke her in the eye before she could get close enough to hit me with the ax. Unless, of course, she threw the ax at me.
I carefully stepped to the side, putting the burn barrel between us for protection.
She screamed, “Stop moving!”
Calmly, I said, “Quinn, if you'll just put the ax down, we can talk this over. I won't tell Chip about your affair. I'm not even working for him. I told him to find someone else, because I wouldn't take his money.”
“You're lying,” she growled. “You're trying to trick me.”
She lowered her shoulder and hefted the ax with the authority of someone who knew how to hit a target. Suddenly, I remembered a demonstration she'd done for us at a party. Right here, next to the barn. We'd been teasing her about being a farm girl, and she'd shut us up by throwing an ax at a target and hitting it dead center. Could I duck down in time to avoid getting an ax dead center in my chest? My confidence in my evasive maneuvers was evaporating by the second.
With a cold voice, she said, “You know everything. You know about me and Michael.”
“Is he Quinby's father? She's got his angelic smile.”
“He was blackmailing me,” she said. “When he found out she had the role, he wanted me to make him the manager. And he wanted half her earnings.”
“Sounds like good ol' Mikey,” I said.
“He was already bragging about the money to his stupid wife,” Quinn said, spitting the words with contempt. “He was going to ruin everything.” The fingers on her free hand twitched, as though she was pointing at her stomach, trying to tell me something. “Everything.”
I took a wild guess. “Are you pregnant?”
The ax slipped down. She didn't drop it, but her grip loosened enough with shock that the handle slipped down. Was it enough to ruin her aim? I had an urge to rush forward, to charge at her now and tackle her. But I had a stronger urge to stay behind the barrel and keep trying to talk my way out of danger.
“I don't know,” she said. “It's too soon to say, but maybe.”
“Quinn,” I said softly. “You can start a new life. Take this opportunity right now to get into your car and leave town.”
Her voice trembling, she said, “You're bluffing. You don't know anything. And even if you did, you can't prove it.”
I turned my head very slowly and deliberately, as though glancing down the road toward the property's entrance. But I only moved my head. I didn't take my eyes off the petite blond murderess. I hoped the shadows would conceal where I had my focus.
With a casual air, I said, “Actually, I'm surprised Officer Dempsey isn't back here yet. He asked me to stay behind and stall you while he got some paperwork done at the station. An emergency search warrant.”
“It's not true,” she growled, adjusting her stance and readying her ax-throwing arm.
I unlocked my knees and prepared to drop for cover.
“He had to get a statement from Trigger Canuso,” I said. “She drove by the house and saw you going in that day to meet Michael. She mistook you for Samantha, because you're both blond, but she figured it out. Now everyone knows. It’s just a question of time.”
She didn't say anything. An owl hooted somewhere in the woods.
I told her, “I've got a thousand-dollar withdrawal limit on my bank card. We can stop by the bank machine. I'll give you the cash so you can get the hell out of here. Change your hair and start a new life. Have the baby or don't. It's your choice, Quinn. Right now. You can stay and face the consequences, or you can run. I'll help you out and give you a head start.”
“Why?”
“Because you're my friend,” I said. “You made a mistake, but I know, deep down, you're a good person.” Her eyes relaxed slightly. She was buying it? My lying skills had really improved lately.
“I loved him,” she said.
“I know,” I said. “It was just an accident? You were talking to Michael and things took a turn. He can be so infuriating. And then you couldn't help yourself, because you had to protect your family. It was all Michael's fault.”
She rotated the ax. In the thin light of the sole lantern, the blade glinted menacingly.
“They won't believe me,” Quinn said.
“We need to get rid of these metal supports from your shoes. That's the only physical evidence connecting you to the crime scene.”
Her free hand went to her stomach. The metal supports weren't the only connection. If she'd conceived a child that day, and it was Michael's, that would seal her fate. The horrifying realization now hung in the air between us.
Her voice lowered to a spooky, robotic tone. “A mother does what needs doing to protect her family.”
“Don't kill me,” I said. And then, because it was worth a shot, I said, “Please.”
And that was when she threw the ax.
I dropped to the ground. I could hear the helicopter-like sound of the ax whipping through the air just above my head.
I'd avoided an ax to the chest, but now I was on the ground. Quinn had been on her feet, and that gave her the edge. She launched herself at me.
I fought to keep the stick between us, but it was like being attacked by a wildcat.
I heard the clang of my own skull being hit against the side of the burn barrel. Then the clang of what I hoped was Quinn's head and not mine again.
The light of the lantern dimmed and shut off. We were in total darkness.
Her hands were around my throat, crushing my windpipe. I couldn't breath
e, and I couldn't see. My stick was broken, but I clutched the thicker piece and struck at her, again and again.
Why wasn't she letting go? My eyes stung, and not just from the lack of oxygen. Was Quinn's head bleeding and dripping onto my face? I could taste blood. Hers or mine, I didn't know.
Just when I thought things couldn't get blacker, they did. What little I could see of the stars in the sky blinked out. I was losing consciousness.
I gripped my battered stick, which was now slick with something, and kept flailing.
Quinn was heavy on top of me.
And then she was lighter.
She was rolling off me.
No. She was being pulled off me.
A flashlight blinded me.
“Stormy,” came a male voice.
“Dad?” My voice was hoarse.
“It's me, Kyle,” he said.
The flashlight blinded me again.
My head was swimming. My eyes were watering so bad from pain I couldn't see what was happening.
Kyle said, “Hold still and stay there. I've got to catch the other cheerleader, then I'll be back for you.” I felt him adjust my position on the ground, tilt me slightly to the side. “Keep breathing,” he said, and he was off.
I could see the bright light flashing against the bare autumn trees.
I started coughing and didn't stop until everything went black.
Chapter 41
A hand appeared between the green curtains of my examination room at the hospital's emergency room.
“Knock knock.”
“Nobody home,” I said groggily.
“Are you decent?”
“I'm wearing a cheerleader uniform that, at the rate I'm currently swelling up, I'll probably have to cut myself out of.”
The curtains parted, and Kyle Dempsey entered the semiprivate space.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said.
“Deja vu,” I said. “We've been here before.”
“I suppose we have.” His sky-blue eyes twinkled.
“On the plus side, at least we didn't wreck a police cruiser.” I coughed. My throat felt raw and bruised.
Kyle took a seat on the chair next to my bed. “When is someone coming to get you? I thought Finn would be here already.” He looked around, frowning. “And maybe Logan?”
“They're wheeling me into a corner and keeping me overnight,” I said. “They promised me eggs Benedict with crispy bacon for breakfast, but I'm starting to think that was a lie.” I coughed a little more. “Some of these nurses have a very dark sense of humor.”
“They sure do.” Kyle shook his head. “There won't be any eggs Benedict. You'll be lucky if you get a few raisins and some brown sugar with your oatmeal.”
I groaned. “Oatmeal? You should have let Quinn kill me.” I coughed feebly.
Kyle got up and poured me some water from the pitcher at the side of my hospital bed. He tried to hold the cup to my mouth for me, but I took it from him. My arm shook, and I dribbled half of the drink on my cheerleader sweater, which was covered in a mix of soot, grass stains, dirt, and no small amount of blood.
“They tried to cut that filthy sweater off, but you wouldn't let them,” Kyle said.
“Did I threaten a lawsuit?” I dimly recalled yelling something to that effect.
“That's the rumor,” he said.
Grimly, I said, “Logan will be so proud of me.”
Kyle chuckled. “You must be feeling pretty rough. How bad does the concussion feel?”
“Uh...” I was tempted to complain, but I tried to view my current discomfort in a more positive light. “It could be worse,” I said honestly. “Earlier tonight, a woman upstairs gave birth to a twelve-pound baby. No epidural. I'm probably having an easier night than she is.”
He grinned. “But she gets to bring home a baby.”
I frowned. “Now you're making me miss Jeffrey. Can you run over to the house and pick him up for me?” I patted the bed next to me. “Plenty of room.”
Kyle laughed. “You must be on a lot of painkillers. I can't tell if you're joking.”
“Me, neither.” I patted the bed again. The room was hazy. “Where's Jeffrey? He should be here. I'm stinky, and he likes to smell my clothes when I'm stinky.”
I wondered, am I in a hospital? Did Kyle and I wreck another police cruiser?
“You're welcome, by the way,” Kyle said.
The room came into focus again. The medication they'd given me for the pain was coming and going in waves. For a few seconds, I felt completely lucid.
“Thank for showing up in the nick of time and saving my life,” I said. “How did you know to come back? Was it your interview with Trigger?” I struggled to sit upright. I had to warn Kyle! “Dimplessss,” I said, slurring. “The blond woman that Trigger saw at the house was Quinn! You've got to look out. She could be anywhere.” I could feel my eyes bugging out of my head, all the better to see my enemy. “Is she behind that curtain?”
“Quinn?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “You're pretty drugged up. We can talk about this later.”
“There's no time to explain,” I said. “Come here. I'm going to steal your gun.” I beckoned him toward me with my finger. “Here kitty, kitty.”
“You're not getting my gun,” he said with an amused, patronizing tone I did not care for. “I've learned to be a lot more careful around you wily women.”
“Hah!” I coughed some more and then sighed. My throat felt pretty nice. The pain medication was kicking in.
“Stormy, I think I had a premonition or something,” Kyle said. “Instead of waiting and bringing Quinn in tomorrow, I had this gut feeling I had to drive out to the barn immediately.”
I giggled. “You wanted to see me one more time in my cheerleader uniform.”
He shook his head, grinning. “Yeah, that must have been it.”
I fluffed up my pillows. Whatever they'd given me wasn't making me sleepy. I felt like I could stay up for hours and hours, just talking and catching up with Kyle.
I asked him, “How's Quinn?”
“Not happy. We arrested her.”
“Good,” I said. “That was a good choice. You're a very good cop.”
My compliment made Kyle laugh.
He said, “Milano is working with her now, getting the whole confession.”
“Good,” I said. “She always liked him. She had a crush on Tony Baloney. Did you know that? The first time Quinn ever threatened to kill me, it was after she found out about us.” I whispered, since it was supposed to be a secret, “Kissy kissy. Me and Tony Baloney.” I stuck my tongue out. “Gross.”
Kyle gave me a sidelong look. “Are you messing with me?”
“Of course not,” I said. “It's a secret. Nobody knows. Nobody.” I waved a hand drunkenly. “Ha ha. Just kidding. It's not true. I'm a big liar.”
“You're pulling my leg?”
“Blblb,” I said. I meant to say something else, but I couldn't recall what it was, and my tongue wasn't cooperating. I did know, on some level, that it was time for me to stop talking.
“You must have a thing for men in uniform,” Kyle teased.
“Dimplesssssss,” I said, back to my slurring. “Can you get me some coffee with chocolate in it but no coffee?
“You want a hot chocolate?”
“Ooh. That sounds good. Get it with chocolate.”
He left to find the coffee machine.
I gave myself a stern talking-to about keeping my mouth shut. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was I'd said that I shouldn't have, but I knew I'd better stay quiet. Starting now.
When Kyle returned, I got him to keep me entertained with videos on his phone. I managed to stop talking, stop spilling secrets. After a while, I forgot all about what it was that I was trying not to bring up again.
Kyle Dempsey stayed by my side and kept me awake for the next few hours, constantly annoying me with his periodic inspections of my pupils, which felt a lot like him attempting to ki
ss me.
The hospital room was brightening with natural light when I heard the unmistakable sound of an irritated lawyer in the hallway.
“But I am her family,” Logan Sanderson said with vehemence.
Kyle, who'd nodded off in his chair, jerked upright. “Your boyfriend's here,” he whispered.
“Why are you acting surprised? I didn't call him, and I told the nurses not to, so that means you called him.”
Kyle held up both hands as he got to his feet with cat-like agility. “Stormy, I swear I didn't call anyone, not even Finn.” He went to the doorway and peered out. “Logan's looking the other way, so I'm going to sneak out while sneaking out is an option.”
I didn't want him to go. I didn't want to be alone. “My pupils. I think they're funny.”
Kyle flashed me his dimples. “Get your boyfriend to check your eyes. See you around. Maybe at family dinner.” And then he was off.
He moved so stealthily; his shoes didn't make a sound on the hospital floor. The pain medication was still affecting my senses and imagination. Suddenly, I got the strangest idea Kyle Dempsey was actually a ghost, and that was why he didn't make noises. The thought sent a chill up my spine. Then I heard Logan yelling for him. “Dimples! Hey! Officer Dempsey! Where is she?”
Kyle must have pointed to my room because Logan appeared in the doorway immediately, red-faced and breathing hard. He grabbed the sides of the doorway with both hands and stayed there, leaning in but not entering.
“You found me,” I said.
His jaw worked, and his cheeks reddened, but no sound came from his mouth. His knuckles were white.
I adjusted myself to be more upright. “What's wrong? Is everything okay back at the house?”
He nodded, shook his head, then nodded again.
Finally, he spoke. “You ding-dong,” he said.
“Me?” I pointed to my chest. “I don't know what Tony Baloney said when he called you, but I didn't do anything wrong. I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
He stayed in the doorway, still breathing heavily. “Tony didn't call me. Nobody called me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I heard sirens, and I checked with Jessica, and she said you never came home. We've both been driving around for the last two hours looking for you. We drove out to the barn, and the police had it taped off and wouldn't tell us anything. And your father—” He leaned forward, wheezing to catch his breath.
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