Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (38 page)

“Not this time … at least not according to the coroner. He said the stab wounds weren’t
thrust with a lot of force. It was almost as if the killer slid the knife in as slowly
as possible.”

He glanced over at Quinn. “Atlanta PD sent me a copy of your ex-wife’s case. Her murder
was both brutal and angry. The killer intended to cause her as much pain as possible.
The stabs were so hard, a couple of them went all the way through her body.”

Shaking his head, Quinn said, “Are you saying the killer wanted it to hurt less for
Lindsay than Charlene? The force of his stabs wouldn’t have made any difference to
their pain. It would have been excruciating either way.”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Zach blew out a sigh. “Maybe he enjoyed this kill
less or more than the other one.”

“Or it was all staged.”

“What do you mean, Sammie?” Savannah asked.

Sam stood and began to pace. “The thirteen stab wounds in Lindsay have always bothered
me. Someone in a murderous frenzy isn’t counting how many times he inserts the knife
into his victim. With Charlene, the number of stab wounds didn’t stand out because
we just assumed he stopped at thirteen because he wanted to stop.”

A cold chill of dread, not unlike moments he’d felt on the battlefield, went through
Quinn. “So what you’re saying is, he was aware of how many times he stabbed Charlene
and wanted to make sure he gave Lindsay the exact same number.”

“Exactly.”

“So you think the number thirteen is significant,” Savannah said.

“Yes … maybe … possibly.” Sam blew out a harsh breath. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“The number thirteen has a lot of different meanings. I’ll do some research. Maybe
there’s some correlation we’re just not seeing.”

A soft hand touched Quinn’s arm in a comforting caress. He looked up into Sam’s worried
face. Her sister Sabrina had said that Sam was beautiful inside and out. There was
no doubt of that in his mind.

“What about the weapon?” he asked.

“Kitchen knife,” Zach answered.

“You said the door was jimmied,” Quinn said. “Wouldn’t that imply that she didn’t
know her attacker?”

“Not necessarily,” Savannah said. She looked at her husband. “Zach, didn’t you say
there was an old housecoat in the middle of the kitchen floor?”

At his nod, Savannah went on, “If the doorbell rang and she was wearing the housecoat,
she probably wouldn’t have answered. From what I remember about Lindsay, she was very
careful of her appearance. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her in an old robe.”

Giving Quinn one last caress, Samantha turned away and continued pacing. Sitting down
calmly was beyond her at the moment. “I agree. Lindsay was very vain about her appearance.”
She winced as she said the words. At one time, there had been no one more vain than
she was. And like Lindsay, she wouldn’t have been caught dead in an old housecoat.

“So he breaks in and she, what … just goes along with it?” Brody said.

“If she knew him, she might’ve thought it was romantic,” Savvy said.

Samantha huffed out a disgusted breath. “I’m the romantic in the family and that would’ve
scared the crap out of me.”

“Me too,” Savvy said, “but we know that Lindsay had some issues. She saw men as either
conquests or rescuers.”

“Okay, let’s go with the theory that he broke in and she possibly knew him,” Quinn
said. “He takes her to the bedroom, they have sex, and then he brings out the knife
he stole from the kitchen?”

Zach nodded. “That’s the going theory. Coroner said she was killed between noon and
four.”

That news confirmed what she feared. “He’s watching Quinn, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I would think so. To frame him, he’s going to want a window of
time where Quinn’s whereabouts can’t be verified.”

“I arrived here at this house right at two o’clock. Before that, I was at my house,
alone.”

“You saw no one until you came here?” Brody asked.

“No. I was in the back of the house, working on some bookshelves for the study. My
car was in the drive, so anyone could have driven up and seen it.”

“What about it, Braddock?” Zach said. “You come
up with any names of people angry at you enough to kill?”

Quinn shook his head. The blank look in his eyes tore at Samantha’s heart. He was
retreating behind that wall again and she couldn’t let him. Zach didn’t know Quinn
the way she did. He might look at Quinn’s cool control as deceit. She knew different.
When it became too much, that was his fallback mode.

His voice devoid of any emotion, Quinn said, “I’m sure there are hundreds of people
I’ve pissed off in my life but none to the degree that they’d kill someone for it.
A few might’ve wanted to kill me but …” He shrugged. “Not sure why he wouldn’t just
come after me instead.”

“Because he wants to torture you,” Samantha said. “Killing you might be his endgame,
but until then, he’s enjoying making you sweat.”

She made her statement deliberately blunt, hoping to see that fire back in his eyes.
And for a moment, there was a flare of life. Then like a blast of arctic ice, the
coldness returned.

“Then he’s going to be disappointed. I don’t sweat.”

Biting her lip, she glanced nervously at Zach, sure that he would question the cool
arrogance in Quinn’s statement. Instead she saw approval and understanding. They were
both former military. Maybe Zach understood Quinn’s control.

“What about at the hospital?” Savvy asked. “Could someone have blamed you for a loved
one’s death?”

Quinn shrugged. “Possibly. But I’ve not lost any patients this year in a way that
was remotely questionable.”

“I talked with the head of the emergency department,” Zach said. “She concurred with
your assessment. Said there had been no threats of lawsuit or any indication of a
bereaved family member wanting vengeance.”

Feeling desperate, Samantha pulled up a footstool and
sat in front of Quinn so she could see his face. “Then someone from your past? Maybe
in medical school or when you were in the army?”

Quinn shook his head. “I’ve racked my brain, Sam. And as I said, I’m sure I’ve pissed
more than a few people off, but none come to mind.”

Samantha surged to her feet again. “Then we need to look at this from a different
angle. This person came to Midnight … might still be here.”

Brody, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, said abruptly, “A man would be hard-pressed
to come into this town without someone seeing him. Especially in the middle of the
day.”

Savvy said. “But remember, the Daytons’ house is on the outskirts of town, down an
old dirt road. It would be very easy to sneak in and out without being seen.”

“Yeah, but how would this person know I went out with Lindsay or even knew her?”

“Maybe they didn’t,” Samantha said. “Maybe he killed her at random, knowing you would
be a suspect because of Charlene. He could’ve stopped on the outskirts of town, done
the deed, and left.”

“That’s damn chancy,” Zach said.

Samantha knew she was grasping at straws, but so far straws were all they had.

“There is one new person in Midnight,” Brody said. “Any reason we’re not considering
him a suspect?”

“You mean Blaine Marshall?” Savannah asked.

Brody nodded. “There’s something off with him.”

Poor Blaine. Little did he know he’d been considered a hit man for Cruz and now a
murder suspect.

“I checked him out … dug as deep as I could,” Savvy said. “From what I can tell, the
man is who he says he is.”

“I’ve followed him around a little. Those comments he
made to Samantha about Florida bothered me.” Brody shrugged and added, “I might not
like the guy, but I have to admit, I’ve seen nothing that would indicate he’s not
what he says he is.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not connected to Braddock in some way,” Zach said.

Samantha threw a glance over at Quinn. “You’ve seen him several times. Does he look
familiar to you?”

Quinn shook his head. “Not at all.”

“I agree, though,” Savvy said. “I watched him at dinner the other day. He’s charming
but …”

“Exactly,” Samantha said. “Finish that sentence. There’s just something there but
I can’t place my finger on what that is. Which reminds me, I have to return something
to him. Why don’t I meet him for lunch? I’ll wear a wire like I did before and ask
some direct questions.” Before anyone could protest, she looked over at her sister.
“And Savvy, see if you can tie Blaine to St. Catherine’s Hospital or to Atlanta. Also,
check to see if he has any military ties.”

Quinn’s disapproval of her plan was obvious, but thankfully all he said was, “What
are you returning?”

Samantha grimaced. “He gave me a gift the other night when we went out. I was going
to return it the next time I saw him but didn’t want to do it on Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being around him if he’s got anything to do with this,”
Quinn said.

“I’ve been out with the guy several times. We’ve been alone. And the other night,
we drove all the way to Mobile. He was a perfect gentleman.”

“That was before we were considering him a murder suspect,” Zach said.

“True, but we thought he was a hit man, so what’s the difference?” At the sea of unconvinced
faces, Samantha added, “How about I meet him at Faye’s? Nothing gets
said or done there without witnesses. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

No one looked thrilled with her solution but it made sense to her. Whether Blaine
Marshall had anything to do with Lindsay’s and Charlene’s deaths, was Cruz’s man or
simply a lonely guy, she needed to return his gift.

“Okay, everyone,” Zach said. “Let’s end this meeting with the acknowledgment that
we still have no real clue who we’re looking for and why.”

The announcement deflated Samantha’s optimism. Zach was right. They had no solid ideas
or theories.

“The coroner has released Lindsay’s body. Her funeral is set for tomorrow at one o’clock.
Brody, Bart, and I will be there. I’ve asked Savannah not to go and she’s agreed.”

By the expression on Savvy’s face, it hadn’t been an easy agreement. Still, it was
best. Not that anyone was expecting trouble, but Clark Dayton was volatile by nature
and this had been his sister. No matter that neither he nor his father had been terribly
kind to the woman in life, rumor was they were taking the loss hard.

“I think that’s best, Savvy. Heaven knows what Clark might do. I heard he’s been on
a drinking binge since this happened.”

Her sister sighed and shot her husband a quick smile. “I know. I just feel like I
should pay my respects.”

“I’ll represent the family,” Samantha said. And before Quinn could make the same suggestion
that Zach had made to Savvy, she said, “It’ll look very strange if someone from the
Wilde family isn’t there.”

“Braddock, it’ll be best if you’re not there, either,” Zach said.

Though his jaw clenched, Quinn nodded curtly, agreeing.

Glad that was settled, she stood and held out her
hand to Quinn. “Let’s go.” She wanted to get him alone as soon as possible. She had
a feeling the discussion of Lindsay’s funeral was getting to him. Having taken an
oath to save lives, the idea that someone had killed two women because of him couldn’t
be easy.

Zach sat on the arm of Savvy’s chair, put his arm around her shoulders, and looked
at Quinn. “Since Savannah won’t be at the funeral and I have to be, I’d be grateful
if you would stay with her until I can get back home to her.”

The tension she could feel in Quinn’s arm loosened slightly. “I’d be honored.”

Throwing her sister and brother-in-law brilliant smiles, Samantha walked out of the
room by Quinn’s side. Zach’s request had most likely been prompted by Savvy but he
wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t have total belief in Quinn’s innocence. And the look
on Quinn’s face had been priceless. He would soon learn that being part of the Wilde
family meant total faith and loyalty. And whether Quinn wanted to acknowledge it or
not, he
was
a member of their family.

Rain slashed against the windshield, hindering her vision. Samantha squinted in between
the swipes of the wiper blades for a clearer view of the road in front of her.

What an awful day for a funeral. Yesterday the weather had been sunny and warm; tomorrow’s
forecast was also supposed to be filled with sunshine. Burying Lindsay on a day like
today seemed like a final insult to the poor woman.

“I do hope they put tents up at the gravesite. Funerals are depressing enough without
getting soaked, too.”

Samantha glanced over at Gibby. Her aunt had insisted on attending. Even though she
had a cold and was probably running a fever, she refused to miss the event. Samantha
hadn’t even thought to discourage her. The entire town of Midnight, with the exception
of only a few, would be there.

That was the way in Midnight. Weddings, christenings, baptisms, and funerals were
attended by as many of the townspeople as possible. Citizens worshipped and celebrated
together; it only made sense that they mourned together, too.

After the funeral, the inevitable consumption of a massive amount of food would commence.
Tears followed by nourishment had been the tradition for as long as she
could remember. Since the Daytons’ house was still a crime scene, Faye had offered
to host the mourners at her diner.

“Do you reckon Zach’ll be able to find out who killed poor Lindsay?”

“I’m sure he will, Aunt Gibby. It just takes time.”

“And to think someone is doing this to hurt Quinn. I swan, I don’t know what the world
is coming to.”

“Who told you that?”

“Why, it’s all over town, honey.”

Of course it was. Had she thought Midnight’s gossipers would let her down this time?

“So people don’t think Quinn had anything to do with Lindsay’s death?”

“I’m sure there are some who have their doubts.” She jutted out her chin. “I, for
one,
don’t
.”