Chapter 9
Q uinn bit his thumbnail as he watched the interrogation, his irritation getting the best of him.
“Sounds like he's not going to tell you anything,” Riley said.
Usually, leaving a suspect in a room with Grady at least gave them something. Especially after a night spent locked in a cell. But however terrifying Grady was, something else was scaring this guy more.
Quinn blew out a breath and shoved his hand into his pocket before he bit it down to nothing.
They'd opened fire in a busy street and were badly gunning for Sebastian. Quinn wanted to know why, and he wanted to know right fucking now.
“What else do you have?” Riley asked.
“We have an alert out for the dolls, to see if we can find out where they're coming from since they seem to be a connecting factor.
Internet searches came up with nothing, so wherever they're getting them from, it's a personal contact.
We've requested information on all the cases that Sebastian has worked on in the last two years.”
“Two years?”
“Some cases take a while to get off the ground. We're trying to cover all our bases.” He gave a helpless one-armed shrug. “I'm going to be honest; we don't have a lot to go on.”
Riley nodded. “Let me know if anything new turns up.”
“Sure.” He tried not to wonder why Riley was taking an interest in this case now that Peyton was free and clear. He took an interest in a lot of their cases. It was his job.
He was almost out the door when Quinn blurted out, “Riley, wait.”
“Something else?”
“I need to tell you about possible conflicts of interest.”
“Right now?”
“You're here, and Grady is getting nowhere. And it pertains to the case.”
Riley froze. “I thought you and Sebastian were over a long time ago.”
“We were. Now we're... I don't know what we're doing.”
Riley crossed his arms and leaned his back against the door. Something flashed in his ice-blue eyes. “I can't take you off this case; you're all too overworked as it is.”
“I don't want you to.” Quinn was going to find out who was trying to hurt Sebastian, and he was going to bury them. “I just wanted to formalise it.” He hesitated. “And Will too.”
“Excuse me?”
“Will McMahon.” Quinn glanced to where Grady had left the interrogation room and a uniformed officer was escorting the shooter out to be put back in his cell.
“I know who Will is.”
“I'm sleeping with him too.”
“Anyone else I should add to that list?” Riley asked sharply. “What the fuck, Quinn?”
Quinn met his stare, refusing to back down.
They were the same age, and they'd been through all the same things together.
Quinn might have fucked up back then and been the main reason that he and Sebastian had broken up, but Riley wasn't exactly blameless.
Maybe if he and Sebastian hadn't kept so many goddamn secrets, it wouldn't have blown up in their faces like that.
And they'd been friends for too many years for Riley's intimidation techniques to work on him.
“Yeah, you can add Peyton, though considering he works at a bar, I don't think there's any conflict there.”
“You want me to add three people to your possible conflicts of interest? Because you're sleeping with all of them?” Riley asked flatly.
“Together. I'm not cheating on anyone.” He internally winced.
It had sounded like a jab, and Quinn hadn't meant it that way.
Their complicated history had always been there, bubbling below the surface.
Quinn didn't hold it against Riley anymore, not consciously, but evidently the hurt had been waiting for everything else to resurface to come back up too.
“Together.” Riley shook his head. “You know what? No. I don't want to know. I'll make a note of it. Let's not talk about this again. The only reason we ever need to talk about this again is if you hurt Peyton, understand?”
“Got it.” He wasn't any more interested in talking to Riley about what he got up to with his little brother. Or Sebastian, for that matter. And he had no intention of hurting anyone, not this time.
Grady wasn't at his desk when Quinn returned to the bullpen, but a new stack of files had been put on Quinn's desk. He really hoped it had to do with current cases and not any new ones because he didn't have time for anything new.
He flipped the top one open and rustled around his desk for a pen. He couldn't find one, so he stole one from Grady's desk.
Quinn flinched when Riley's office door slammed shut suddenly.
Greer came storming through moments later, a dark cloud hanging over his head.
Quinn watched him grab his jacket and leave without a word.
Probably a good thing; he doubted anything that Greer had to say right that second would have been pleasant for anyone involved.
Their rookie, Henry, popped his head up from under his desk, a cord in his hand. He blinked owlishly. “What was that?”
“Do you need some IT help?” Quinn asked instead of answering the question. He’d given up a long time ago trying to work out any of Greer’s moods. He’d transferred in five years ago, and not even the biggest gossip in the place knew where he’d come from. Most of them just wished he would go back.
“Oh. No. I just… accidentally kicked the cord, and it came out, and I can’t work out where it came from, and now my computer won’t turn on.”
Grady waltzed into the room, phone in one hand and a custard tart in the other. Guess that answered where he'd gone. “We got a ping from a post office for one of the dolls,” he said in greeting. He shoved the rest of the tart into his mouth.
“You might want to call IT,” Quinn suggested to Henry. “Which post office?”
“Not far from here. I’m driving.”
Quinn shared an amused look with Henry—Henry mostly looked confused, but it was all right, he would learn—as he stood. He decided not to bother with his jacket since it was starting to warm up outside. He made sure to grab his wallet out of the pocket before following Grady.
He rolled up his sleeves as he descended the stairs. “Was it just the one doll?”
“A pack of three,” Grady said, giving an exaggerated shudder. “Who would buy more than one of those things?”
“Who would buy even one?” Quinn countered. He slid into the passenger seat of his car and dropped his keys in the centre console. “But it is Halloween next month, and we can’t discount that people just want them for decoration. They’d go well in a Haunted House.”
Grady put his hand across the back of Quinn’s seat and turned his upper body as he reversed. “All you have to do is put it in a house, and the house automatically becomes haunted.”
“Some people are into that.”
Grady switched gears and took off. “Let’s hope that’s not all this delivery is about, because we need a break in this case. It’s either going to escalate, or it’s going to get relegated to cold cases.”
“Thanks for jinxing it,” Quinn said. He voted “no” for both options. They'd already had a drive-by and an actual assassination attempt. What was an escalation of that?
Once they arrived at the post office, they were led into the back, where dozens of shelves were lined with boxes and packages.
“This is what you were looking for, I believe,” the manager on duty, Linda, said, picking up a medium-sized box and dumping it in Quinn's arms.
“It’s not open; how do you know what it contains?” Grady asked.
“That’s what scanners are for.”
Quinn turned away so Grady couldn’t see his smile. He checked the address it was being sent to. It was only a PO box and not one in this suburb but two over. “It was posted from here?” he clarified.
“Yes, it hasn’t been sent anywhere yet. It hasn’t been stamped,” Linda said. She pointed to the corner of the box where the stamps were. Stamps were unusual for a large package.
“Do you know who brought it in?”
Linda shook her head. “Sorry, I wasn’t working yesterday when it was brought in.”
“Is there a way to find out who was?” Grady asked.
Linda shrugged. “I can look for you. It should say who processed it in the system.”
“We’d appreciate that,” Quinn said. He pulled out his switchblade as she left and carefully opened the top of the box. Three dolls were wrapped in Bubble Wrap inside, tightly packed in.
Grady took out his phone and snapped a picture of the PO box number and the name. It looked like a company name rather than a personal one.
“What kind of company buys horror dolls?” Grady said, grimacing. “Scaring the shit out of your employees should be considered illegal.”
“Aesthetics?” Quinn suggested. He pulled one out and unwrapped it. It was light. Lighter than the others they’d seen and lighter than the one they’d found the narcotics in. “It’s empty,” he said, handing it over.
“What are you thinking? Gets sent out somewhere, where it gets filled and then sent off? We could be looking at the start of the production line.”
Quinn nodded. He was thinking the same thing.
It meant all of this was definitely drug related.
But he still couldn’t work out why a body was left at Peyton and Will’s and how Sebastian was involved.
Was it coincidence he’d been there with them that night?
Or the other way around? Had it happened because Sebastian had been there?
Linda came back with a young man in tow. “This is Matt. He was the one who processed the package.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said to Linda. “I’m Detective Hughes; this is Detective Donehue. Do you mind if we ask you some questions about this package?”
Matt shook his head mutely.
“Can you tell us about the person who brought it in?” Quinn asked.
“Yes,” Matt said. “It’s… Gloria? Um… Miss Gloria, she comes in a few times a week to drop off packages like this. She’s been doing it for as long as I’ve worked here.”
“How long have you worked here?” Grady asked abruptly. He put the doll down and focused all his attention on Matt.
“A-about two years,” Matt stuttered. Under Grady’s stare, his eyes became saucers.