Читать книгу The Killer You Know - Kimberly Van Meter - Страница 13
ОглавлениеQuinn knew when the FBI agent, Silas Kelly, had left the scene, because she found herself releasing the breath that must’ve been pent up inside.
There was something about the austere man that troubled her.
He wasn’t friendly in the least.
But that wasn’t it.
Okay, so he was good-looking. Older than her by close to ten years, but he wore his age well.
His skin was clear, his eyes sharp.
If she was being honest, he probably could double as a model or something.
But that wasn’t what was pulling at her, either.
Quinn sensed something beyond the stoic face, the stern glance.
Pain.
The man was hiding something really painful, something that he preferred to keep private.
Which, of course, only pricked at her need to know more.
Her uncle Leo was always telling her that she was the cat that curiosity eventually killed.
A little morbid but probably true.
What could she say? She loved uncovering details that others would rather hide.
Such as...why was an FBI agent poking his nose into a local case that, on the surface, had absolutely no connection to anything with federal jurisdiction?
Time for a little fieldwork. Someone in town had to know more about Silas Kelly.
Seeing as the sheriff was being unaccountably mum on the subject of this recent murder, she’d just have to go to a different source.
The one man she knew who knew everything about Port Orion was right under her nose.
Uncle Leo.
Pocketing her pen and pad, she wandered a few more times up and down the bank, steering clear of the tape, and when she found nothing that stood out, she followed Silas’s lead and left the scene.
Just in time, too. Her nose felt ready to fall off.
Quinn popped into the diner to grab some soup—minestrone for her and chowder for Uncle Leo—and went home.
The best way to get her uncle to start talking was to ply him with his favorite foods.
Chowder was his weakness.
“I’m home,” she called out, carrying her bags of goodies. “And I’ve brought something yummy.”
Leo hollered from his office. “I’ll be right there. I can smell the chowder already!”
Quinn chuckled and found some bowls to ladle up their portions. She broke off some sourdough bread and liberally buttered it so by the time Uncle Leo appeared she had everything ready to go.
“You are an angel from heaven,” he said, sinking into the chair at the table, his eyes as round as the soup bowl. “How did you know that I was craving chowder?”
Quinn pretended to think then answered, “Because it’s a day that ends in Y.”
“Clever girl,” Leo quipped before dipping in, his expression of glee tickling her.
Uncle Leo was like a father to her but cool like an uncle. She liked to call him her funcle.
After a few bites, Leo leaned back and eyed Quinn with suspicion. “All right, out with it, missy...what’s on your mind? You always bring me chowder when you want something.”
“Not true,” she protested but she couldn’t help the smile because it was true. “Maybe I just love seeing you happy and I know chowder is the way to your heart.”
“Exactly,” he returned drily. “What do you need?”
Since there was no further point in denying it, Quinn said, “Okay, since you asked... I need information.”
“Is this on the record?” he said semi-seriously. “Because I don’t need to be quoted on nothing.”
“Off the record,” she assured him. “I just need to know some Port Orion history.”
Leo lost his seriousness. “Oh, then. That’s easy. What do you need to know?”
Quinn jumped right in. “So, there’s an FBI agent in town, seemingly interested in the murder of Rhia Daniels, and he says he’s from here but I don’t know him. I mean, he’s older than me, but I thought you might have some insight.”
“What’s the name?”
“Silas Kelly.”
At the mention of the name, Leo’s gaze shuttered and he shook his head. “Sad story there. Hard to believe he came back.”
“What do you mean?”
“What’s an FBI agent interested in the Daniels case for?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was hoping I could find out by learning who he is to this town. Can you help me?”
“I don’t know much more than what was told in the papers,” Leo said, tearing off a chunk of bread to dunk in the chowder.
“Yeah, but surely there must’ve been chatter. Just tell me what you remember.”
Leo fidgeted, seeming lost for a minute. Finally, he roused himself when he realized Quinn was still waiting.
“Sure, sure. Okay, well, it’s a terrible story. Here’s what I remember. The Kelly family used to live here. Good family. Good people. But then something bad happened to the youngest Kelly boy and nothing was ever the same again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, when you live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone else, you feel insulated against the troubles of the world. So when something real bad happens, it shakes people up, makes them realize that they’re not immune to the dangers everyone else faces. Losing that Kelly boy...and never finding the killer...well, it was just too much.”
“His brother was murdered?” Quinn’s eyes bugged. “How awful.”
“And the family picked up and left town as soon as Silas graduated from high school. I heard the family broke up, went in separate directions.”
Quinn thought of the austere air about Silas and pitied the young kid he’d been. That was some rough stuff.
“Do you think there could be any connection between Spencer Kelly’s murder and Rhia Daniels?”
“No, I really doubt it,” Leo answered with conviction. “Whoever did that terrible thing is probably long gone but people who crave closure will grasp at any straw. I can’t blame the man for trying.”
She couldn’t, either.
The gears in her mind were moving quickly, testing out theories and possibilities.
“I imagine if, by some incredible chance, the cases are connected...that would be a pretty amazing coup to solve them both.”
Leo shrugged as if he thought the possibility was far too remote to contemplate and returned to his chowder, pausing to ask, “What’s with all the curiosity? You think you’re going to bust this case wide open and report on it?”
“And if I did?”
“I’d say that’s a helluva long shot.”
Quinn smiled. “That’s okay. I like a challenge.”
Leo’s brief smile felt vaguely patronizing but Quinn let it slide. Everyone was allowed an off day.
Besides, she had bigger fish to fry.
First and foremost...she needed to find a way to get Silas Kelly to trust her.
Given the fact that he seemed to have little respect for the press that would be a challenge indeed.
* * *
Silas felt it prudent to let his brothers know that he was in Port Orion. His call to Shaine went to voice mail—not surprising, Shaine was always undercover somewhere—so he left a brief message and called Sawyer.
Sawyer picked up on the first ring.
“You’re up late,” Silas said, checking his watch. “Working a case?”
“Yeah, possible fiduciary elder abuse case in Wyoming. Pretty sophisticated operation, too. What’s up?”
Silas decided to go straight for the meat. “I’m in Port Orion, working a murder case.”
A beat of silence followed before Sawyer said, “Why? Is it related to Spencer’s case?”
“I don’t know, but the victim was found in Seminole Creek around the same time as the anniversary of Spencer’s murder. Seemed like a good idea to follow up.”
Silas could feel the weight of his brother’s concern from across the line. “You know the likelihood that the two cases are related is very slim,” Sawyer said carefully. “I just don’t want you chasing after a ghost.”
“I’m only here for a few days to sniff things out. If it looks like the cases aren’t connected, I’ll leave.”
“Will you?” Sawyer didn’t sound convinced.
“Of course.”
“Good. Nothing but sadness left in that place. You need to give yourself some closure.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“No, you’re trying to find forgiveness. No one blames you for what happened to Spence.”
Silas struggled for a minute. That familiar choking sensation pressed on his windpipe. He was to blame. It was his fault. “I shouldn’t have left him.”
“You were a kid,” Sawyer said. “Spence should’ve gone home like he was supposed to. No one could’ve known what was going to happen that day.”
Silas knew all the rational arguments—didn’t matter. His guilt still crushed him every day.
And returning to Port Orion had only dredged up those buried feelings.
As if reading his mind, Sawyer asked, “How’s it being back?”
“Weird. Uncomfortable. Sad.”
“Seems about right.”
“Nothing has changed. Everything is as it was. Time doesn’t exist here. Mankins is still the sheriff. He should’ve retired a long time ago.”
Sawyer chuckled. “If it weren’t for Mankins, your ass would’ve landed in jail. He saved your skin more times than I can count.”
That much was true. After Spencer’s death...well, let’s just say that being a good kid hadn’t been big on Silas’s list.
“I went to the crime scene. You know that big rock that we used to jump off from?”
“Yeah.”
“Looks the same. Reminded me of the time Spencer wanted to jump and you didn’t think it was safe, but he did it anyway and then you pushed me off to make sure Spencer was all right.”
Sawyer chuckled at the memory. “Racked your nuts if I recall correctly.”
“Hell, yes. It’ll be a miracle if I can have kids.”
“Well, we all babied Spencer.”
Everyone but Silas. “Yeah, made me jealous. Why did he get special treatment?” he said, half joking but it was difficult to talk about Spencer without sinking into the tar pit of banked grief. Silas returned to the reason he called. “Look, if there’s a chance to solve his murder, I have to take it. My boss thinks I’m chasing after a ghost, too. But I don’t care. My intuition says I have to be here. For whatever reason that may be. But I can’t leave.”
“So tell me about the recent case,” Sawyer said, resigned. “What are the details?”
“Sixteen-year-old girl, popular, pretty. Dumped into Seminole Creek two nights ago. I’m waiting on the autopsy report to see if there were any trace forensics that I can compare to Spencer’s case.”
“No preliminary cause of death?”
“Hand marks on the neck suggest strangulation.”
“Similar to Spencer. But choking a victim out isn’t unique,” Sawyer pointed out.
“True. That’s why I’m pulling Spencer’s case file to refresh my memory.”
“I would’ve thought you had that case file memorized by now,” Sawyer said.
Truth was, Silas had put Spencer’s case far out of his mind so he could focus on the cases that landed on his desk today. “I could use a refresher. I know the basics but I don’t want any detail left on the table.”
“I don’t know, Silas. Refreshing the details of Spencer’s case seems like an unnecessary agony.”
Silas knew that it was different for his older brothers. They’d mourned Spencer’s death like any sibling would, but they would never understand Silas’s driving need to find who had killed the youngest Kelly.
A beat of silence passed between them and then Sawyer exhaled, knowing Silas wouldn’t be deterred. The Kelly men were known for being stubborn.
“I know you’re going to do whatever you feel is necessary. Be careful and keep me updated.”
“I will,” Silas agreed.
“All right. It’s late. Be safe, brother.”
Sawyer clicked off and Silas plugged his cell in to charge for the night. It felt good to talk with Sawyer. Even though they were all adults, the Kelly brothers had a special bond.
Spencer’s death had drawn them together in a way that he would never wish on anyone but he was thankful for their support.
He couldn’t say the same for his dad.
Silas was the only Kelly boy who hadn’t attended the funeral.
Dad never forgave Silas for what’d happened to Spencer. Messed up, yeah, he knew. But even though he could rationalize his father’s feelings, the kid inside him still hurt for the rejection.
And he’d never get closure from his father.
Dad had died a handful of years ago with harsh words lodged between him and Silas.
He stiffened his backbone as a shock of pain jolted him. Even if Silas had been willing to patch things up, his dad couldn’t.
Just...couldn’t. Each time his dad had looked at Silas, the corners of his mouth would pull as if he was being reminded all over again that it was because of Silas that Spencer was gone.
Thankfully, his mother hadn’t drawn such a harsh line. Though there were times Silas wondered if deep down, she harbored a secret resentment against him. Maybe it was his guilty conscience, but it was hard to ignore just the same.
Climbing into bed, he closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. His alarm was set for five a.m. and seeing as it was past midnight already, that didn’t leave much time for shut-eye.
But as he was drifting, Quinn Jackson popped into his last conscious thought and he was left with a feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of the redhead.
Silas frowned, irritated at himself that his thoughts kept gravitating toward Quinn.
What was it about her that his brain stubbornly refused to latch loose?
The easy answer—her looks.
But that wasn’t it.
Silas was old enough to recognize the pitfall of chasing after a pretty face and perfect figure.
She had a sense about her that made people stare.
Including him.
Raw, boundless energy crackled around her.
Like a...kitten.
No, not a kitten.
Like something wild.
Untamed.
And completely dangerous.
If he were smart, he’d steer clear.
