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I run a trembling hand over my hair, collecting myself. “Julian Reed’s lawyer,” I answer him. His gaze swings to me. “Maybe you gave Colton a phone call, maybe you didn’t. But Julian wasn’t notified. His brother needed to know that he had been brought in.”
Anger flushes Quinn’s face, his nostrils flare. “Get out.”
I lift my chin, though I’m admittedly shaken by his terse treatment. Regardless, I keep my convictions close, bolstering my resolve. “You’re the one who asked me to dig into his past, Quinn. And what I found may be problematic to you. His work, his past, our involvement…may all be suspicious, because it veers into a realm that you see as risky. It doesn’t fit into your neat and orderly box.” I step closer to him. “But that’s not reason enough to subject him to this interrogation. Carson has no solid evidence on either him or his brother.”
“No solid evidence, no. But we follow the leads, Bonds. We follow each one until we reach the end, and you just interfered with police procedure. Do you get that?” He pauses, letting the weight of my action sink in. “I’m not giving Carson the reigns here. Colton Reed is not just related to a suspect from another case—he’s also the neighbor of a victim. That’s a lead outside of the club angle that we have to investigate. It just happens to involve the same damn person. Which is just too much of a coincidence for my liking, and I’m going to pursue all leads. That’s the job.”
I grit my teeth, unable to deny his deduction. It looked bad before Colton had a connection to a past case. Now…I’ll need more than a circumstantial defense to convince Quinn of Colton’s innocence. He’ll chew the bone and suck the marrow until he’s exhausted this angle. It’s how he operates.
“Plus,” Quinn continues. “The UNSUB contacted you while we had Colton in the interrogation box. Have you even considered why that is yet? Think about it.”
I spent most of the night thinking. Going over the past, reliving the previous two weeks. Analyzing everything I could’ve missed two years ago up until the second where I was made to guard my mother from a sadistic killer. And the fact is, Julian very well could be involved, but I have my doubts it’s how Carson believes. Only Quinn won’t understand those doubts. Not without the key piece of information I have—the link I was only able to uncover yesterday.
With that information, the task force could narrow down the suspect pool—but it means incriminating myself. Damn those choices.
“Carson thinks Julian is trying to frame his brother. Do you know how very absurd that sounds?” I ask. “How many serial killer cases have you worked where the killer just handed over credit to someone else?”
Quinn wipes his hands down his face. “It’s the only lead we have.”
Choice made. I pull in a breath. “No, it’s not,” I say, and he looks at me. “Lyle Connelly.”
“Lyle Connelly. Lyle Connelly.” He repeats the name, trying to make a connection. “Why does that sound familiar?”
“Two years ago, in Roanoke, I profiled the killer and Connelly matched the profile.”
Quinn shakes his head. “Shit, Bonds. Not this again.” He groans, turning away from me.
“Just…” I hang
my head, then look back up at him. “Work the profile, Quinn. Amend it to meet the need for two killers, and work it.”
The lawyer knocks on the mirror, and Quinn knocks back to let him know he’s coming. Then, he holds out his hand to me. “Your phone.”
With notable frustration, I reach into my back pocket and then slap my cell into his hand.
His lips thin as his gaze sweeps over me. “Just get out and stay away from this case, Sadie.”
My back tenses at the edge in his words. Quinn and I have had our disagreements; we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but damn if I didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt that he’s not only a better detective, but a better man than this.
With nothing more said between us, I exit the monitoring room just as Colton is escorted into the hallway by his brother’s lawyer. Our eyes meet, and for a brief second I glimpse shame in his pale blues. There’s so much I want to say right now to take that shame away…but this isn’t the right moment.
I offer him a wan smile before he’s led in the opposite direction. A searing burn fills my chest cavity, and I press my hand over it, trying to sever my connection to Colton. It would be easier if he weren’t involved. I’ve never had to consider casualties before—or I just never allowed myself to think about the damage.
I was once a damaged casualty in a case. So many options, so many paths…and I chose the one where I could forget what it’s like to relate to a victim. I thought it was survival, but my captor understood. The monster was always stirring.
Screw it. The whole department can gossip if they want. I take off after him, my feet moving me in the surest direction of my life.
Carson was right about another thing: gut instinct is still the most reliable tool. And ever since I delved into Colton’s past, my gut instinct has been to protect him. Regardless if I can prove his innocence or not, despite the fact that I have Avery running comparison tests on his rope right now—he’s not a killer.
I’m not nearly as strong as I once was. Not nearly as confident in my purpose. Past cases have stripped me of the passion I once harbored for my job. But I’ve been forged out of pain and suffering, and that is the one thing I can recognize in another. Colton has suffered. His pain speaks to mine. And it says more than we might ever admit aloud to each other.
He stops at the front desk to collect his things, and I know he can feel me, even though he won’t look my way. “I’m tired, Sadie,” he says.
“I know.” I slip my hand into his, and he grasps ahold of it tightly. “I’m taking you home.” I note the rough feel of a bandage and look down. His hand is wrapped in gauze.
“Did Carson—?”
“No,” he answers quickly. “I had it out with a mirror at the club.”
