Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (35 page)

“He was cleared of those charges. Besides, he’s been here with me all night.”

She was about to move forward when Quinn stepped in front of her. “Call Zach. I’ll
stay here.”

“You’re damn right you’ll stay there, asshole. I’m a gnat’s ass away from blowing
your fucking brains out.”

Quinn pushed aside the sick feeling of déjà vu and focused on one thing—getting Sam
out of harm’s way. He knew she had her gun behind her, but if Dayton fired his shotgun
at her, she’d be dead in an instant.
Once she was clear and he’d talked some sense into the man, he’d let himself think
about this new horror. Two murders directly tied to him? No way in hell was this a
coincidence.

“I’m not leaving you out here with this maniac, Quinn.”

He turned his head slightly so he could see her better. Still dressed in his shirt,
her golden hair tousled, lips slightly swollen from his hard kisses, Sam had never
looked more wonderful to him. Or more out of his reach.

“Go. Now.”

He barked the order at her, but though she flinched at his harsh tone, she continued
to stand there with a mutinous expression.

To get her attention, he snapped, “Look at me.”

Moving her gaze slightly, she said, “What?”

“We’re at a standoff here. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get this cleared
up. Since Dayton isn’t going to stop pointing that gun in my face, the only recourse
is for you to call Zach.”

“Fine.” Holding the gun so Dayton could see, she said, “Clark, I swear with everything
that’s in me, if you so much as harm a hair on Quinn’s head, I will fill you with
so much lead they’ll have to lift you with a bulldozer to bury you.”

If he didn’t have a twelve-gauge shotgun pointed directly at his head, and weren’t
facing the possibility of being charged with another murder, Quinn would’ve been laughing
his head off. Sam’s threat would’ve made Charles Bronson or Clint Eastwood proud.

When she finally disappeared inside, he turned his attention back to Dayton and said
quietly, “I didn’t kill your sister, Clark. I’m sorry she’s dead. She didn’t deserve
that.”

“As if I’m going to believe you. Being accused of two murders in less than a year?
That ain’t no coincidence.”

“You’re right, it’s not. I don’t know who is doing this or why it’s happening.”

“Then until I know one hundred percent you’re innocent, you’re my number one suspect.”

“I—” Quinn broke off when he heard sirens and spotted the lights of two police cars.
He didn’t know how the hell Zach had gotten here so fast and didn’t really care. Feeling
a slight easing, he kept his mouth shut and decided to let the police chief handle
the man.

The patrol cars pulled in behind Clark’s vehicle. Zach got out of one and a deputy
got out of the other. As the two men strode toward the porch, Zach called out, “What’s
going on here?”

Not taking his gaze off of Quinn, Dayton snarled, “Lindsay’s dead. This asshole is
the most likely suspect.”

“Put the gun down, Dayton. I’m sorry to hear about Lindsay, but you’re not a deputy
any longer. We’ll investigate to determine who the murderer is. Now hand the gun to
Deputy Odom.”

“I ain’t doing no such thing.” For the first time, Quinn saw real sorrow in the man’s
expression. “Lindsay was stabbed repeatedly. She looked like she was raped, too. Until
you prove different, this asshole is my number one suspect.”

“He may be your suspect, but until I investigate, everyone is a suspect. Now. Put.
The. Gun. Down.”

The instant Clark lowered the rifle, Zach grabbed it and tossed it to the deputy,
who emptied the chamber.

“Okay, let’s talk,” Zach said. “What happened?”

“Daddy and I went hunting. Lindsay was going to cook Thanksgiving dinner and have
it ready for us when we got home.” He shrugged and glanced down at his feet, looking
slightly guilty. “We got sidetracked. I didn’t get home until around midnight or so.
I figured Lindsay would’ve put dinner in the fridge, but when I went to the kitchen,
the food was still sitting out on the
counter. The turkey was in the oven but it’d been turned off. I called out for her
but nobody came. Her robe was in the middle of the kitchen floor. I went to her bedroom.”

He swallowed hard. “There’s blood everywhere. She was lying on the bed, naked. The
bastard had a good time with her.”

“Then we need to get over there and check this out.” He looked at his deputy. “Stay
here with these two. I’ll grab Brody and head over to Clark’s house.” He turned back
to Dayton. “Where’s your daddy?”

“He’s at Mamie Dillinger’s. Daddy hooked up with her at the bar and went home with
her. He doesn’t know.”

“We’ll call and let him know.” Turning to Quinn, he said, “Where’s Samantha?”

“I’m right here.”

Quinn turned to see that Sam had changed back into the dress she’d worn for Thanksgiving
dinner. Hell, had that only been a few hours ago? He felt like he’d lived a lifetime
since then.

Zach’s eyes roamed her from head to foot. “You okay, Sammie?”

“I’m fine, Zach. And Quinn’s been with me all night. There’s no way in hell he had
anything to do with this.”

Instead of agreeing with her, Zach just said, “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“I’d like to go over to the house with you,” Sam said.

Zach shook his head. “Having you over there will only complicate the matter.”

His sweeping gaze taking in Dayton, Sam, and Quinn, the deputy nodded his head toward
the door. “Why don’t we all go inside and have a seat?”

Quinn turned to do just that and was surprised and humbled when Sam reached for his
hand. No doubt she wanted to show her support and belief in him. He
couldn’t let her. He turned away without a backward glance and went inside the house.

The fury he’d been holding back rushed through him. How fucking stupid they’d all
been. Two murders linked to him a coincidence? Not bloody likely. Charlene’s murder
had apparently been an attempt to frame him. It had almost worked. And now Lindsay.

Whoever this was, he was out for revenge, wanting to hurt Quinn in the worst possible
way. And the worst possible way to hurt him was to harm Sam. As long as she was associated
with him, she had a giant target on her forehead. No matter how much it clawed at
his insides to do so, his relationship with her was over. At least until this was
settled. And if the murderer was never caught or she wouldn’t forgive him? He mentally
shrugged. Better a lonely life without Sam than the gut-deep agony of being responsible
for something happening to her.

Samantha sat on the sofa, across from Quinn. Clark was at the other end of the room,
in a corner. He was behaving better than she expected. Other than the occasional glares
at Quinn and her, he was acting remarkably mature. Shock was most likely settling
in. Finding the body of a dead person was a traumatic experience. That the murder
victim was a relative would be much harder to deal with. Despite her antipathy for
the man, she felt sorry for him.

Quinn wouldn’t talk to her, would barely look at her. Did he think she believed he
had something to do with Lindsay’s murder? She hadn’t given any indication that she
had anything other than total faith in him. So why was he acting so cool? An hour
ago, he’d held her gently in his arms and shared more with her than he ever had
before. She had finally felt as if she was making a dent in that impenetrable, stoic
mask he wore.

Now she was cold and worried … and so unbelievably scared. Someone was trying to set
Quinn up. That was the only explanation she could come up with. But who?

Even though she hadn’t seen the crime scene, the way Clark had described it sounded
almost identical to the murder of Quinn’s ex-wife. Charlene hadn’t been raped but
that may have been from lack of opportunity. But even if the killer had been trying
to frame Quinn, how would he have known that Charlene had called her ex-husband to
her house?

She needed to call Murphy and get his thoughts. She hadn’t talked to him in months.
Last time she had, he’d indicated they were no closer to finding Charlene’s murderer
than before. He’d definitely want to know about this new one. New evidence and old
evidence could be combined to hopefully give them a profile of the killer.

Wanting to break the tense silence, Samantha looked over at Deputy Bart Odom, who
was standing guard at the door. “How did you guys get here so fast?”

Bart’s eyes briefly flickered over to Samantha. “We were half a mile away at the Greens’
house. Malcom and his son-in-law got into a fight about the football game. His wife,
Louise, called us to come break it up. We were just leaving their house when your
call came in.”

Samantha nodded numbly. Alabamians took their football seriously, sometimes too much
so. Just like in most of America, watching college football on Thanksgiving was a
tradition in Midnight. And almost every year here, a family fistfight broke out when
things didn’t go a certain way.

The radio attached to Deputy Odom’s shoulder squawked out Zach’s voice: “Bart, you
there?”

“Yeah, Chief.”

“Bring Dayton and Braddock to the station.”

“Be there in a few minutes.”

Bart Odom opened the door. “Okay, let’s go.”

Samantha grabbed her purse and stood. “Quinn and I will follow you.”

“No way in hell are you driving in,” Clark said.

“No problem,” Quinn said calmly. “I’ll ride with Deputy Odom.”

He finally looked at her then and a deep ache developed in her stomach. He had gone
to that place he went when it became too much. She had hoped never to see that look
on his face again.

“Sam, take my car. Dayton can follow behind us.”

“That’ll work,” Clark said.

Unable to let Quinn go without words of encouragement, she grabbed his wrist. “Everything’s
going to be okay.”

Instead of answering, he pulled away from her. “Go home, Samantha. I don’t need you.
I’ll pick up my car as soon as I’m released.”

She dug deep and ignored the cutting words. “What’s wrong?”

His response was a humorless laugh. “Sorry I can’t kiss and make it better for you.
I’m a little busy.”

Her entire body stiffening at his cruel words, she backed away and watched silently
as he walked out the door.

Clark’s glare barely penetrated her hurt. “You always did have lousy taste in men.
You should’ve stayed home and married one of the local boys. You might’ve not thought
they were good enough for you, but at least they wouldn’t have murdered you or anyone
else.” He stomped out the door.

Samantha stayed frozen for several seconds and then grabbed her purse and Quinn’s
keys. Whatever the reason
for Quinn’s cruelty, she wasn’t about to let him be held accountable for a crime she
knew he most definitely didn’t commit. Whoever had done this was out there, waiting
to see what would happen. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to find
the bastard. And then she would deal with Quinn.

“So how is it that you knew Lindsay?”

Quinn had to hand it to the Midnight Police Department. They were a helluva lot more
accommodating than the Atlanta cops. He’d been given coffee and a comfortable chair
in Zach’s office. He knew there were interview rooms because they’d passed by them
on the way. He didn’t fool himself. This special treatment was all due to Sam. Any
other suspect would have been grilled in an interview room with half a dozen people
watching.

“I didn’t know her well. When I came back to Midnight last week, she showed up a few
minutes after I arrived with a casserole and a bottle of wine. I thanked her and she
left.” In case he needed further proof, he added, “Samantha was there and heard everything.”

“Clark said you dated her.”

Never had he regretted a date more. “It wasn’t really a date. She came into Faye’s
the other day when I was there. She asked me out.” He shrugged and added, “I felt
sorry for her, so I said yes.”

Nodding as if he understood, he said, “Anyone around then … to hear you?”

“Sam was there then, too.”

Zach’s expression went from understanding to furious in a second. “You were with Samantha
when you accepted a date with another woman?”

Put like that, it sounded damn insensitive, and he supposed it was. “We weren’t together.
Sam was sitting behind me, but she heard me accept.”

Zach’s glower didn’t lighten up. Quinn could understand why. His explanation hadn’t
exactly made him look any better.

There was no real excuse he could give for accepting the date while the woman he loved
sat close by.
Loved?
Hell, where had that come from? Not loved. Cared about. He cared deeply for Sam.
That was it. Not love. Hell, his brain must be fried.

Quinn continued, “We went out the next night. I took her to Esmeralda’s Garden over
on the bypass. We ate and left. I brought her home around eight-thirty.”

“That’s a damn short date.”

“It wasn’t a date. I bought her dinner.” Quinn shook his head. “Hell, I know I was
an asshole for saying yes. Sam’s the only woman I want to be with.”

“Have you seen Lindsay since that night?”

“No. She wasn’t happy that I brought her home so soon. She tried to invite me in.
I said no and left. That’s the last time I saw her.” Quinn leaned forward in his chair.
“I know this looks bad.”

“Two murders and an attempted murder. And you were associated with all three. Yeah,
it looks real bad.”

“Attempted murder? Who?”

“Did you forget that Samantha was almost run over a few weeks back?”

And he hadn’t believed he could feel any colder. Sam had dismissed that as someone
trying to scare her, but now, after this … 
Shit!

He surged to his feet. He needed to make sure Sam was safe. She had driven home by
herself.

Zach nodded at the chair Quinn had vacated. “Sit down.”

“Not until I check on Sam. I need to make sure she made it home safely.”