Kimberly Van Meter - The Killer You Know

And he’d never get closure from his father.

Dad had died a handful of years ago with harsh words lodged between him and Silas.

He stiffened his backbone as a shock of pain jolted him. Even if Silas had been willing to patch things up, his dad couldn’t.

Just...couldn’t. Each time his dad had looked at Silas, the corners of his mouth would pull as if he was being reminded all over again that it was because of Silas that Spencer was gone.

Thankfully, his mother hadn’t drawn such a harsh line. Though there were times Silas wondered if deep down, she harbored a secret resentment against him. Maybe it was his guilty conscience, but it was hard to ignore just the same.

Climbing into bed, he closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep. His alarm was set for five a.m. and seeing as it was past midnight already, that didn’t leave much time for shut-eye.

But as he was drifting, Quinn Jackson popped into his last conscious thought and he was left with a feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of the redhead.

Silas frowned, irritated at himself that his thoughts kept gravitating toward Quinn.

What was it about her that his brain stubbornly refused to latch loose?

The easy answer—her looks.

But that wasn’t it.

Silas was old enough to recognize the pitfall of chasing after a pretty face and perfect figure.

She had a sense about her that made people stare.

Including him.

Raw, boundless energy crackled around her.

Like a...kitten.

No, not a kitten.

Like something wild.

Untamed.

And completely dangerous.

If he were smart, he’d steer clear.

Chapter 5

“Please, Lester,” Quinn pleaded. “What’s the point of being local if I can’t even get some kind of exclusive content?”

“Isn’t there some environmental catastrophe you could report on? Maybe go piss off some timber company and leave this case alone.”

“Why are you so intent on pushing me away from this case?” she asked. “If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re afraid I’m going to uncover something you’d rather keep hidden.”

Oops. Too far.

Lester narrowed his gaze at her. “Watch it,” he growled and she immediately changed her tactic.

“I just want justice for this poor girl. I mean, the whole school is grieving right now. The town is hungry to know what happened. We need to be able to give them the answers they seek in the most responsible manner possible. Do you really think that the big presses are going to care if the case is handled sensitively? Hell, Lester, I saw news vans camped out in front of the Danielses’ family house yesterday! How awful, right? You don’t see me doing that, but if you don’t give me something I can work with, I might have to.”

Lester appeared to take her point under consideration. After a long pause he said, “All right. You’re worse than a damn bloodhound. The autopsy is scheduled for this morning. If you want, you can sit in and watch.”

Watch an autopsy? That wasn’t exactly what she had in mind but she’d take it. “Perfect! Am I allowed to ask the coroner questions?”

“No. Keep your lip zipped.”

“Then why am I watching?” she said, frustrated. “C’mon, Lester, you’re tying my hands at every turn. Don’t you love me?”

At that Lester softened. “Of course I do. I just think this case is above your pay grade, sweetheart.”

That really stung. Quinn tried not to let her bruised pride overrun her mouth but it was hard. “I’m trying to elevate my pay grade,” she replied with quiet dignity. “I need a case like this to do it.”

“What does your uncle think of you poking around on this case?”

“He doesn’t have an opinion,” she answered, frowning at the odd question. “Why would he? It’s my job.”

Lester nodded, conceding the point but not before adding a few stipulations. “You are to be quiet so the doc can do his work. The only reason I’m letting you do this is because you need to see the ugly side of the work you want to do. Rhia Daniels is more than just a story angle for your career. She was someone’s daughter, and her parents are grief-stricken.”

“Of course,” Quinn said quickly. “I’ll be very respectful.”

“See that you are. Or else this will be the last time your pretty pleas will work on me.”

“Is that it?”

“No. I want you to steer clear of Silas Kelly, too.”

“Why?”

“Because his agenda has nothing to do with yours.”

That stipulation put her in direct opposition with her plans. She needed Silas. Seems out of everyone, Silas was her best bet to get solid leads.

The irony was not lost on her.

“Sure,” she lied. “I mean, it’s a small town so we’re bound to run into each other but I won’t go out of my way to spend time with him.”

“Fair enough.” Lester leaned back in his chair, looking suddenly very weary as he gestured for her to go. “You’ve got your marching orders, now go on.”

“Thank you, Lester,” Quinn said, pleased with her victory. “You’re the best.”

Lester snorted at her flattery and she left with a smile.

Her first autopsy. Should be...fun.

It might be disgusting, but at least she could get a look at the condition of the body, which might turn out to be good color for her story.

Quinn pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, wound her scarf around her neck and headed for the morgue.

The tiny flutter in her nerves betrayed her nervousness. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t entirely sure how her stomach was going to react to seeing a dead body.

What if she puked?

She liked to think she was tougher than that but the only way to know was to go through with it.

Quinn pushed open the double doors of the morgue and shivered at the icy chill in the sterile room. She found Silas already there, looking austere and unapproachable. Maybe if he smiled more...no, don’t go there. Even when he was looking as if a giant stick was wedged up his behind, he was still pretty handsome.

So...no smiles necessary.

“What are you doing here?” Silas asked.

“I have permission to be here,” Quinn answered, lifting her chin. To the coroner, she assured him, “I promise I won’t get in your way.”

Quinn didn’t know the doctor, and she didn’t usually make a habit of rubbing elbows with the man who poked and prodded the dead, but he didn’t give off the impression that he was open to making friends either.

With a faint scowl, the coroner nodded and motioned for them to come over to the table where the body of Rhia Daniels lay beneath a white sheet.

“Is this really necessary?” Silas asked her in a low tone. “What can you possibly hope to put in your story from this angle? Try to remember her grieving family.”

“Why does everyone assume that I don’t?” Quinn shot back, irritated. “Maybe her family would like some closure. I imagine your family would’ve liked to know who killed your brother.”

A flash of heat in his eyes warned her to tread carefully. Maybe that comment was a little too much. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be hurtful. I’m just trying to put things in perspective.”

“Perspective for whom?”

“You, of course,” Quinn answered. “You seem to have something against me and you don’t even know me.”

“You’re press. That’s all I need to know,” he said.

“Well, that’s painting with a wide brush. Not all press are the same.”

“In my experience, they are. The story is always more important than the feelings of the people involved. I’ve watched reporters step all over people to get their story, no matter who was standing in their way. Reporters are worse than ambulance-chasing lawyers.”