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I clear my throat as I swap the images. “Then maybe this will clear up your investigation.” On the screen, a close-up of the vic’s thigh is highlighted. “The brand found on all victims was determined to be done prior to their deaths. Marcy Beloff received her brand postmortem.”
“I’m not entirely following,” Agent Rollins says. “The brand on this victim was removed, burned off. Why brand a victim that isn’t tied to the other murders of trafficked women and then remove it, if the perpetrator intended to hide the murder among the other victims?”
Agent Bell moves closer to the screen. Her eyes trace the charred brand. “Exactly,” she says, and Rollins raises his eyebrows, expectant. He doesn’t interrupt. “We concluded the removal of the brand was a counter forensic measure to keep us from linking the murders together. Some deaths so gruesome that if the medical examiner never had the first victim’s brand to compare, we might not have known to look for a brand in the first place.”
I bristle at her lack of confidence in my skills. I would’ve uncovered the branding during processing due to the deep scar tissue.
“Her brand was burned away not as a means to disguise a connection,” Bell continues. “But to disguise the fact that it was done postmortem.”
My mouth pops open. “Yes, that’s what we’ve concluded. Removing or damaging the skin hinders us from determining whether the brand was done before or after death.”
Agent Bell turns around. “Did you find any other evidence to support this?”
Aubrey adjusts his stance. “Upon initial analysis, remnants of Trifecta were found in the victim’s system. But further testing showed that the drug hadn’t yet traveled through the victim’s organs. She was administered the drug after her death.”
I find Quinn’s eyes, and it’s only a flash, one flicker, but I glimpse relief there. He may have staged the evidence on Maddox, but Maddox is guilty of the crime. It’s a slippery slope, one I’m sure Quinn has struggled to climb, but the truth of the matter is that without Quinn planting Maddox’s fingerprint, he never would’ve gotten a warrant to search Maddox’s office and uncover the murder weapon in Marcy Beloff’s murder.
Only knowing Quinn, the guilt might’ve been easier for him to endure. In time, I wonder if he’ll question all his cases, comparing his actions against a single moment that he went against his code.
“I believe you’ve just built the Commonwealth’s case,” Agent Bell says. “Body, murder weapon, intent—” she ticks off on her fingers “—and the receipts found in Maddox’s office show he even purchased the designer dress the victim died in.” She starts toward the exit. “All we need now is Maddox himself.”
“What intent?”
At Quinn’s question, Agent Bell halts near the autopsy cart. “The victim’s death may not have been deliberate, but Maddox and McGregor worked together to hinder the investigation.”
Hard lines bracket Quinn’s mouth. “You’re going to ask the Commonwealth to request a dual trial.”
Agent Bell looks uncomfortable for a moment. She flicks her head, clearing her bangs away from her eyes. “This victim is tied to the others, detective. Regardless if she wasn’t a trafficked slave intent for auction, the actions taken to tie her to those victims prevented us from uncovering Maddox’s crime beforehand. Postponing his arrest guaranteed the auction took place at the Skylark.”
Eyes narrowed, Quinn takes a step forward. “You could also say that without the auction, we may never have apprehended McGregor and all the buyers. Chicken and the egg.”
Her smile brightens her face. “Don’t go down that line of thinking, Detective Quinn. It’s a deep, dark rabbit hole that can drive you mad.” She turns to leave, saying over her shoulder, “Maddox and McGregor schemed together, they’ll go down together. All evidence makes them both culpable and can be taken out of context when tried separately. We need them both.”
After briefly checking his phone, Agent Rollins gives us a curt nod and follows after Agent Bell, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.
Aubrey looks at Quinn expectantly, as if he’s waiting for Quinn to leave. “Is there anything else we can do for you, detective?”
The slight roll of Quinn’s shoulders, emphasizing his gun harness, doesn’t escape me. Instead of addressing Aubrey, he looks at me. “How much longer until you’re wrapped up here?”
I glance at Aubrey. “If you need me for—”
“No, I’ll close up.” He begins closing out the tabs on the laptop and shuts it down, decidedly doing just that. “You should go ahead. Obviously the detective has other things he needs from you.”
I’m there in a nanosecond to block Quinn’s advance on Aubrey, stepping between the two men. “Thanks, Aubrey. Please call me if you need anything, otherwise I’ll see you in the lab tomorrow morning.”
Once I’ve gathered my belongings from my office, stuffing the bagged letter to the bottom of my purse, I lock up and meet Quinn in the hallway. He’s talking to Carson as I approach.
“Don’t let them out of your sight,” Quinn tells Carson. “Let me know as soon as they’re there.”
My brow furrows. “Do I want to know what’s going on?”
A solemn look passes between them, then Carson says, “I’m taking off early. Quinn’s taking over detail duty for the rest of the evening.” He smiles and then heads down the hallway.
I let it go until we’re outside the building. Quinn takes over as my detail every ni
ght; it’s understood without giving Carson a direct order. A wariness settles over me as I seat myself in Quinn’s car.
“Are you—?” I start, and he presses a finger to my mouth, then his lips seal over mine, silencing me with a kiss. When he pulls away, he has the FBI-issued phone in his hand.
