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It only rings a couple of times when I hear, “Hi, son.”
“Hey, Dad. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”
“Oh no, I’m still watching highlights from the games tonight. I had a feeling you might be calling.”
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“From the beginning. Walk through it from the moment you got to the first scene,” he says. And I do. I walk him through what it was like at the first scene, the position of the body, the cuts, even how she was kidnapped.
“Okay, now tell me what was different about tonight.” I think about that for a minute. There are actually a lot of differences between the first and second murder. The location, the position of the body, the way she was cut.
“It was like he was in a hurry this time. He staked her down in the ground, but his cuts were to the point instead of unhurried.” We sit quietly for a minute, and I stew on what I said. Something isn’t sitting right about that. Why would he have been in a hurry this time compared to the last? The location is secluded just like the first, she was tied down so she couldn’t get away.
“He was pissed off... And because of that, couldn’t control the cuts this time. Instead of delaying the kill to enjoy it, his anger caused him to slice quickly. He took it out on her, which means these kills are likely surrogates for the person he’s actually angry at.”
“So there won’t be a connection between the victims and the killer then because he’s looking for a specific person and these girls just happen to look like her.”
A little shiver runs down my spine. I told Quinn once that I sometimes see her face as the victims because they kind of look like her. I’ll need to make sure all of the cameras and security measures are working to make sure she’s safe.
“What’s your next logical step?” my dad asks.
“Figure out if this girl was picked up the same way as the first. If she was, we might be able to match cars in both locations.”
“That’s what I’d do too.” I take a deep breath for the first time since I got the call tonight.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Always. Now, let’s talk about your Quinn,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Your mother is smitten with her, and I gotta tell you, she charmed me pretty quickly too.”
“She’s great, right?”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“Of course, I have. I probably took too long in telling her, but I did.”
“Good, good.”
“Dad?” I pause, not entirely sure how I want to say what I’m worried about.
“You’re worried about bringing the job home to her,” he says with the insight he’s always had into what I’m thinking.
“Yeah,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I feel so selfish when I come home and use her to make me feel better. I know the ugliness I bring home affects her even though I try not to give her any details.”
“Let me ask you something. How would you feel if Quinn came home and didn’t lean on you when she’d had an awful day?”
“Not very good, I’d guess. A little left out and maybe hurt that she didn’t feel like she could come to me.”
“Exactly, and how do you think Quinn would feel if you didn’t share your worries and frustrations with her?”
“Pretty hurt that I didn’t confide in her, I’d imagine.”
“You’re damn right she would. It doesn’t matter how many details you give or don’t, what’s important is her need to be there for you and to support you whenever you need it. Just like you are there to support her whenever she needs it. That’s how you make this work.”
“And it doesn’t make me a terrible person for leaning on her right now? Showing her how dark the world can be?”
“No, son, it makes you human, and I bet if you asked Quinn, she would rather share the darkness with you than to have you go through it alone.”
What he's saying makes sense. Everything I know about Quinn tells me she wants to be here for me. She’s never complained about the late nights or the excessive phone calls. She makes me laugh when she knows I’m on the edge of my sanity, and with just a touch, she can ease the pressure that builds so rapidly sometimes I don’t even recognize it’s happened.
