Midnight Lies: The Wildefire Series (5 page)

“Guess you should be more careful who you date,” Larry called out.

Samantha kept walking. She wouldn’t give the jerk the satisfaction of acknowledging
his comment. His opinion meant less than nothing.

She knocked on her captain’s door, and when he called for her to enter, she took a
steadying breath and opened the door.

“Wilde, have a seat.”

Stone-gray hair, military posture, and a fairness she admired—this man’s opinion meant
a lot to her. He had taken a chance on her, gone to bat for her, and mentored her.

She dropped into the chair in front of his desk and took another deep breath. Her
nerves were rattling inside her like sizzling kernels of popcorn. Hopefully, after
her meeting here, she could gather more information and then find a quiet place to
sort it all out.

“I understand you and Dr. Braddock are friends.”

There was no reason to hold back with the captain. “We’re more than friends. We’ve
been dating for about four months now.”

“I see.”

“He’s not the kind of man who would do this.” She swallowed and added, “I believe
in him.”

Bushy black brows arched, showing his doubt. She silently cursed her less-than-convincing
endorsement. She’d never been able to lie worth a damn. She did have
doubts, dammit. She hated that she had them, but they were there whether she liked
it or not.

“It doesn’t matter whether you believe he’s innocent or guilty. The evidence will
prove the case.”

“Who’re the lead detectives?”

“Murphy and Kennedy.”

She felt a little relief. Joe Murphy was one of their finest and would hopefully temper
Kennedy’s ass-hat tendencies. And despite the unfriendly relationship she had with
the man, Larry Kennedy was known to be a competent detective.

“I’ll help where I can.”

“No, you’ll stay out of it. Understand?”

She nodded. Yes, she would officially stay out of it, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t
investigate on her own. There was no way she could just sit back and do nothing.

“Of course.” She put her hands on the arms of her chair as if to get up. “Was there
anything else?”

His hard look told her he didn’t believe her, but thankfully he let it go. “That’s
it.”

Samantha walked as sedately as she could from her captain’s office. First she would
watch the interview she knew would be conducted soon. Then she would go to the crime
scene. She had to see it for herself. She had to find proof that Quinn was innocent.

And if he isn’t?
her mind whispered. Then she would deal with the fallout.

“Okay, tell me again why you went to see your ex-wife, whom you admittedly had a rancorous
relationship with.”

Quinn ground his teeth together. This was the tenth time they’d asked the same damn
question. Bob sat beside him, ready to stop the questioning if he felt it necessary.
Since Quinn had nothing to hide, he’d seen no problem with the interview. Problem
was, they were getting nowhere. Since he was telling the truth, he wasn’t going to
change his story. And since they didn’t believe him, they were going to continue to
ask the same frigging questions to try to trip him up.

“As I said before, she called me this morning and asked me to come over. She told
me she had changed her mind about a necklace she retained in the divorce settlement.”

“And this necklace … where is it?”

“I have no idea. I assume it’s either still in her house or the killer took it if
he robbed the house.”

“And how did you get in the house? Do you have a key?”

As patiently as possible, Quinn answered, “As I said, when I rang the doorbell and
no one answered, I knocked. The door pushed partially open. I called out her name.
When she didn’t answer, I pushed the door open farther and that’s when I smelled the
blood.”

Detective Kennedy smirked. “Must have some nose on you, Doc. Smelling blood from that
far away.”

“Once you’ve smelled the blood of violence, it’s not something you forget.”

“And how is it you know about that?”

“U.S. Army.” He left it at that. If the detective didn’t understand the violence of
war, he wasn’t about to explain it.

“If you pushed the door open and saw her there, why didn’t you call the police immediately?”

“I’m a doctor. I save lives. I thought I could save hers.” Quinn refused to feel regret
for that. If he had to do it over again, he’d do the same damn thing. Saving lives
would always be his priority.

“Your wife screwed around on you. Bet that pissed you off.”

“She was my
ex
-wife. And yes, when I was married to her, it did piss me off. After we divorced,
I didn’t care who she slept with or how many.”

“How many times would you say you’ve seen your ex-wife since your divorce?”

Quinn shrugged. “I don’t know a number. She called me every few months and asked me
to come over.”

“For what?”

“For a multitude of reasons. Sprinkler system went out, she couldn’t get the gas fireplace
to work, she found a book in the study she thought was mine.”

“Sounds like she wanted to get back together with you.”

“She knew that wasn’t possible.”

“Did you have violent arguments with her when you went to see her?”

“I don’t have violent arguments.”

“You don’t get pissed?”

Oh yeah, he got pissed. In fact, at this moment, he’d like nothing more than to smash
the noses of these two
pricks who were making it clear that they thought he was a murderer.

“I got over being angry with Charlene a long time ago.”

“Something like that … that’s a hard thing to get over. Seems like a man would hold
a grudge against any woman who screwed around on him.”

Kennedy’s smirk was getting on Quinn’s nerves a hell of a lot more than his questions.
The man was trying to rile him. Little did he know that Quinn had trained himself
long ago to hold his emotions in check. The look he gave the detective was unflinchingly
direct. “I don’t hold grudges. I’ve gotten on with my life.”

Murphy began again, “And you went to see her this morning, for what?”

That was it. That same damn question marked the end of his patience. Quinn gave Bob
a look and his attorney immediately intervened: “Okay, that’s it, guys. You’ve asked
these questions six ways to Sunday and Dr. Braddock’s given you the same answers.
He’s been more than cooperative. Either charge him or we’re walking.”

They didn’t have enough evidence to charge him, that much was obvious. For the first
time in hours, Quinn felt the slightest loosening of tension in his muscles. He had
to force himself to sit still as he waited for them to tell him he could leave.

Detective Murphy gave a brief nod. “Fine. We’ll be in touch soon.”

Quinn stood and, without another word, walked toward the door. Detective Murphy stopped
him with another question. “By the way, what does the necklace your ex-wife was going
to return to you look like?”

He sighed and turned back around. At least this was a new question. “It’s an antique
pearl-and-diamond necklace on a silver chain. The diamonds are shaped like stars;
the pearls look like small moons. The largest stone is a diamond shaped like the sun.”

“Sounds expensive.”

“I’ve never had it appraised but it’s been in my family for a long time.”

“We’ll be on the lookout for it.”

Knowing nothing he said right now would help his case, Quinn turned back around and
went out the door. His eyes scanned the large room. Stupid, but there had been a small
part of him that hoped Sam would be waiting for him. They had plans to see each other
tonight. That had been before his world had exploded. Hell, after the way she had
looked at him earlier, why did he even want to see her?

“We’ll get this sorted out, Quinn.”

He turned to Bob, who’d been his friend long before he was his attorney. “I know.
It’s just frustrating that they don’t want to look further than what’s in front of
them. While they’re trying to pin it on me, the real murderer is getting away.”

“Murphy and Kennedy have a good reputation. They’ll investigate and find the killer.”

He nodded, but damned if he believed his friend’s words right now. “You need me any
more today?”

“No, let’s meet tomorrow morning at ten. Can you work that?”

He’d have to rearrange his schedule again, but what choice did he have? “I’ll meet
you at ten at your office.”

Bob gestured toward the left side of the parking lot. “I’m over there.”

“I’ll take a cab. Need to think things through.”

“Don’t do one of your marathons when you get home, okay?”

His friend knew him well. Though his mouth felt like it would never lift in a smile
again, he managed a small grimace. “Maybe just half a marathon.”

Slapping him on the back, Bob turned to go to his car.

Quinn raised his hand to hail the cab coming his way,
his tired mind reeling with a myriad of thoughts. One issue clamored and clawed for
predominance over all the others—Sam’s doubt.

He didn’t let his guard down often. Charlene had been an anomaly—one he deeply regretted.
But Sam …? Of all the people Quinn had thought he could believe in, Samantha Wilde
had been number one on his list. And now he had to wonder if he had ever known her
at all.

Samantha drove through the exquisitely landscaped subdivision toward Charlene Braddock’s
house. After watching Quinn’s interrogation, she had gone home for a handful of ibuprofen
and a change of clothes. And she had needed to decompress. Listening to Quinn’s calm,
even answers to Murphy’s and Kennedy’s questions hadn’t made her feel any better.
Nothing had tripped him up. She told herself that was because he had nothing to hide.
But his unemotional demeanor was eerily scary.

As a cop, she had learned to pick apart words and read between the lines. Nothing
he’d said made him look guilty. So why then did she still have her doubts? Why couldn’t
she have full faith that Quinn was innocent?

She turned onto Mallard Lane, where three police cars were parked in front of a stately
brick home. Quinn once mentioned that he and Charlene had bought the house about a
year before their divorce. This area of Atlanta was one of the most exclusive and
expensive. And while Quinn’s condo was nice, it was nothing like this.

She pulled to a stop about a half block away from the house, got out, and started
walking. First she wanted to get the lay of the land. Who had been around when the
murder took place? It had been early morning, so there
should have been people leaving for their jobs, joggers, maybe some yard workers.

Summer in the South meant that people did their outside activities in the early morning
or evening. Though the houses weren’t close together, anyone on this street should
have been able to see something. If not the actual murderer, at least perhaps a strange
car in their neighborhood.

She knew Atlanta PD would be thorough. They would have already canvassed the area,
looking for witnesses. Sometimes, though, it helped to go back and look for the less
obvious. Samantha refused to consider that she was grasping at straws. This was all
part of being a cop, even if this time there was an edge of desperation to her investigation.

“What are you doing here, Wilde?”

She turned around and faced Joe Murphy. “I had to come. I won’t get in the way but
I need to know what you guys know.”

“Did you see Braddock this morning, before he came here?”

“Is that an official question?”

“Would the answer be different if it was?”

“No, of course not. Yes, I was with him this morning before he came here.”

“Did he say why he was coming here?”

“He said Charlene called and asked him to come over.”

“For what reason?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Were you in the same room with him when she called?”

Even though there was something about him that reminded her of her grandfather, she
refused to blush as she said, “I was in the same room with him, but I was asleep.”

“Did you hear the phone ring?”

“No, but I was in a deep sleep. I wouldn’t have heard an earthquake.”

She held her breath. Would he question her further? She had wondered why she hadn’t
heard Quinn’s phone. But it was the truth. She had been exhausted last night. Quinn
had managed to shower, dress, and make coffee all without disturbing her. Not hearing
a phone that was on his side of the bed wasn’t a surprise.

“How long have you known him?”

“About four months.”

“What do you know about him?”

“That he’s a good man. Was a medic in the army. Has an excellent reputation as an
ER physician.”

“You ever meet his ex-wife?”

“No.”

“What’d he tell you about her?”

“Nothing.”

She had answered too fast. And the damnable thing about it was, she had told the truth.
Quinn had told her nothing about Charlene. It was that stupid remark this morning … she
couldn’t get it out of her head.

She quickly added, “The only things I know about her, I heard from some of his friends.”

“Oh yeah, and what’d they say?”

“What you already know. That Charlene was unfaithful and wasn’t a particularly nice
person.”

When he remained silent, she went on. “There are probably a half dozen men or more
who could have done this. You need to talk to them.”

Samantha slammed her mouth shut, cursing her runaway tongue. Even to her own ears,
her tone had held a frantic edge.

His brushy brows, the only hair he had on his head, arched as his light brown eyes
pierced her. “Do you think he’s guilty?”

“Of course not.”

“So why are you here?”

“If it was someone you cared about, would you be able to stay away?”

He considered her for several seconds and then shook his head. “No. But if the captain
finds out you were here, your ass is grass.”

“I’ll stay out of everyone’s way.”

“If he finds out I didn’t tell you to skedaddle, he’ll chew my ass but good.”