Kimberly Van Meter - The Killer You Know

Silas offered a cold smile. “Just because I don’t share the Bureau’s interest, doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“Oh, I know your interest. That’s pretty easy to figure out. This is all about your little brother. Don’t look so shocked. You’re not the only one who is capable of poking around. How are you hoping to tie Rhia’s murder with a case that happened twenty years ago?”

Silas shifted, fighting against the urge to shut her down for hitting too close to home. But for reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, he answered. “Because they were both found in Seminole Creek, both strangled.”

“Not to be a buzzkill, but strangulation is a pretty common way to die. I mean, no tools required, you know? What else do you have that might lead you to believe they are connected?”

“Good try,” he said, withdrawing as he speared a nugget. “Not interested in sharing.”

“You’re a stubborn little muskrat, aren’t you?”

He nearly choked on garlic chicken. “That’s a new one.”

“Yeah, well, I like to be original.”

“You also like to poke around where you’re not wanted.”

Quinn didn’t take offense. “That’s my job,” she said simply. “No one wants the press to air their dirty laundry. I hardly think politicians are clamoring for the chance to have their secrets splattered all over the New York Times, but that happens and the public is thankful for the information.”

“Politicians are fair game. Little kids aren’t.”

“I’m not trying to capitalize on Rhia’s murder—”

“How do you say that with a straight face?”

Frustration laced Quinn’s voice as she chewed vigorously. “You are impossible. Let me guess, single? You don’t have to confirm. I can tell. You’re rigid as a freaking plank.”

He was single. The job was his life. But hearing Quinn make such an easy and flippant observation pinched.

“I date.”

“Sure you do.”

Was he really going to debate his dating habits with a reporter who was at least ten years younger than him? “Shouldn’t you be getting home? I’m sure there’s a curfew of some sort.”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious. Not a kid. I’m actually twenty-four.”

“Whoa. Practically an old lady,” he retorted. “What about you? Let me take a crack. Also single, because you’re too damn pushy for anyone to handle on a daily basis.”

He must’ve hit a nerve. But Quinn wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “Wrong. I’m single because I choose to be. I don’t need a man to validate me. I have big dreams, and getting hitched and popping out kids are not on my agenda.”

“What is your agenda?” Silas asked, going straight to the point.

“Getting out of this town.”

He saw the hunger, the drive to succeed beyond the borders of her environment, and he recognized that need as something he’d often struggled with in the early days.

“What happened to the Port Orion champion?”

“It’s a good town. But I want more.”

“And you’re going to use the Rhia Daniels case as your stepping stone to bigger and better,” Silas guessed with a wry chuckle. “You may think you’re an original but that’s the tune every reporter has sung in my experience, and they never care about the cases they ruin or the lives they shatter on their way to the top.”

“I care about the people here,” Quinn replied, stung. “I grew up in this town. I have a vested interest in seeing that this story is handled with sensitivity.”

“By the very nature of your job, that’s not possible.”

“You don’t know how to do my job.”

“Sure I do. Go for the jugular...if it bleeds, it leads.”

“Damn, Silas. Who pissed in your cornflakes? Do you hate all reporters, or just me?”

Silas laughed and trashed his empty plate. “Don’t take it personal—I hate all reporters. Now, seeing as you’ve eaten all my garlic chicken, I’m going to have to send you on your way, unless of course, you’d like to finish the fried rice.”

This time, there was no negotiating.

Quinn seemed to sense that he wasn’t kidding. She rose with an unhappy glare but before she allowed him to send her out the door, she snatched his only fortune cookie.

“That’s bad luck, you know,” he told her.

Her voice on the other side rang out as she said, “You will work with me, Silas Kelly. You may be a muskrat but I’m a badger!”

A reluctant smile crept onto his lips.

Quinn Jackson was a major pain in his ass but at least she wasn’t boring.

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