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After a moment, Quincy said, “All interesting information, but none of it helps me find your ex-husband. I appreciate you letting us in, giving me your assessment, but I have to wait for a warrant before I do anything else here. Let’s step outside.”
Regan followed Quincy downstairs and back out the garage. As soon as they stepped into the cool May evening, a breeze picked up off the Potomac and Officer Branson approached. “Detective, a word?”
They stepped away and though Regan tried to eavesdrop, she heard nothing.
A minute later, Branson walked to his patrol car and Quincy approached her, saying, “Thank you for your assistance, Ms. Merritt. If you hear from your ex-husband, please let me know immediately.” He handed her his business card. “I have your contact information if I have more questions.”
“What just happened?” she asked. She didn’t want to be shut out of this investigation but suspected Quincy didn’t trust her objectivity—not to mention she no longer had a badge.
“I can’t talk to you about this case, though I can tell you that your ex-husband is wanted for questioning in the murder of Madeline McKenna.”
“You just put him to the top of your suspect list. Please be honest with me, Quincy. What do you have on him?”
She saw him weighing whether to tell her, and then he threw her a bone. “McKenna’s second parking pass was used to access the condo garage at six fifty-one tonight. They don’t require the pass to be used to exit, and there are no cameras in the garage. Our canvass, however, identified a security camera outside a restaurant across the street from the exit. We have Grant Warwick’s vehicle exiting the parking garage at seven-oh-five. That puts him in McKenna’s condo during the approximate time of her death.”
“Or Grant found her body...” Fourteen minutes.Maybetwo minutes to get up, two minutes to come back down, but what was he doing in her apartment for ten minutes?
“And he didn’t call the police? A lawyer, not calling the police when they walk into a crime scene?” Quincy shook his head. “I need to talk to him. Right now, he’s just wanted for questioning. If he reaches out to you, the best thing you can do is convince him to come in voluntarily. If he continues to avoid us and I find another piece of evidence that implicates him, I will get an arrest warrant. My boss is putting more people on this—pulling security, talking to neighbors, his staff, associates. This isn’t going away.”
Regan wanted to say,But Grant wouldn’t do this...But she didn’t. Because she was no longer one hundred percent certain he was innocent.
But why would he kill Madeline, his girlfriend and an associate he’d known for nearly a decade? Jealousy or a volatile lover’s quarrel didn’t fit Grant’s personality.
Maybe Madeline’s death had nothing to do with their relationship. Maybe it had to do with her place of employment, or with whatever Grant and Tommy were investigating together. Maybe it had to do with the information from Grant’s files that Regan had taken photos of on her phone. Maybe...
“I’m willing to help if you want me,” Regan said.
Quincy shook his head. “I don’t want you anywhere near this case. I see a big red conflict of interest sign flashing above your head. If you don’t see it, you’re blind.”
Thirty-Two
When Lance walked into the all-night diner at 10:30 that night, Jenna had never been so happy to see anyone in her life. She jumped up and hugged him tightly, not embarrassed, not worried about what he might think or if he thought she was crazy. She just might be crazy.
“You’re shaking,” he said as he took the seat next to her in the booth, not across from her. He clasped her hands in his. “I’ve been worried about you all day.”
“I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. “I feel like I’m losing it, and I don’t know what to do.”
After she’d seen the two men who lied about being FBI agents outside the hospital, she’d driven for hours, headingaway. Without a thought as to where she was going. But when she nearly ran out of gas, she finally stopped and practically begged the clerk at the station to let her use his cell phone. Maybe it was the tears that had him helping her; she didn’t know or care.
She called Lance—and thank goodness he’d picked up even though it was an unfamiliar number. He told her he’d gotten to her house just after six and her car was gone and the back door was open.
Two men approached him, identified themselves as FBI, and asked if he knew where she was. Lance said no, he was supposed to meet her at her house. He went home and realized the men had followed him. Same two guys sitting in the same SUV. They’d compared descriptions; it was the same two men who had confronted Jenna earlier. They’d stayed outside his apartment for more than an hour before she called him.
“You weren’t followed here, were you?” she asked, eyes wide. “I mean, you believe me, right?”
“Of course I believe you. They didn’t show me their identification, they didn’t act like FBI agents. They looked more like thugs.”
“How do you know they didn’t follow you?”
“I called the cops. It took like thirty minutes for them to show up, and as soon as the assholes saw the police car turn into my complex, they took off. I told the cops exactly what happened—that two guys without ID told me they were FBI agents looking for you, and that I couldn’t find you anywhere. They said you should file a report about what happened; I wanted them to do something more. I didn’t know who those men were, how smart they were, so I switched cars with my roommate.”
The thugs might be smart, she thought, but Lance was smarter. She wished she could muster a smile for him, but she was so tense, so worried about what to do next.
The waitress appeared beside their table, and Lance ordered a burger and fries. Jenna just wanted more coffee. When the waitress left, Jenna told Lance everything, not holding back—about calling the FBI because of what she knew about US Marshal Granger and the FBI saying they’d send two agents to talk to her, so how did theyknow?
“Are you saying you have information about that guy’s murder?”
“Not specifically. I told you that he was asking me a lot of questions about Becca.”
