Chapter 10 #3
He recognised Burrows in some of the pictures. He wondered why the connection hadn't turned up in any of their searches.
“Related by blood?” Grady asked as he settled on the floral armchair. He looked too big for it, and Quinn had to stifle a smile.
“Richard? Oh no. He's my daughter's stepson. Poor boy had a hard go of it. They divorced, but she got custody of him. He was a good boy.”
“I'm sure he was,” Quinn said, though he was sure that Richard Burrows was far from a good boy and was involved in some bad things.
“Richard was the only grandchild that visited me. I get so lonely, and he visited. And drank my tea. He fixed my sink; did you know?”
Quinn made the appropriate noises as she spoke. Sometimes it was better to let them ramble. If there was something to note, he would pick it up, and they might not even realise they'd said something useful.
“He even brought his friends to visit me. They brought flowers. Isn't that lovely? And they cleaned out the garage for me. And painted the windows. So sweet.”
“His friends?” Grady questioned.
“Yes. Two of them. They're just wonderful. Richard was a good boy. They bought my dolls, did you know?”
Quinn paused. “Your—your dolls? You make them?”
“Oh, yes. And Richard and his friends bought so many. It keeps me busy. I don't get so lonely when I'm with them. They're my friends.”
“The dolls?” Quinn couldn't help but ask. He internally shuddered. Who needed enemies with friends like that?
“Could we take a look?” Grady asked.
“At my workshop?” she asked, her eyes brightening. She put her cup and saucer on the coffee table, her hands shaking. “Of course, of course. Come through. It's a lovely room. Richard fitted it for me; did you know?”
“What the fuck is going on?” Grady murmured as she led them down a narrow hallway, still chatting happily away to them.
“No idea,” Quinn replied. She wasn't the mastermind they were expecting to find. If a crime had been committed here, either she was a really fucking good actor, or she had no idea.
Grady made a kind of gurgling sound the moment they stepped into the room. Quinn had to admit that bile was trying to rise from his stomach too.
There were doll limbs everywhere. Hanging up and on shelf space. Some of the heads were half painted, others just staring blankly. Doll clothes, props, and art supplies were spread out over every surface.
It felt like they were in the heart of Hell.
“You've got some real talent here,” Quinn said. Grady made a choked-off noise, and Quinn shot him a look. If he couldn't behave, he needed to get the fuck out.
“Spent my whole life making things. Richard liked buying me supplies, liked to see what I could do with them,” she said, giving him a bright smile.
“He was a good boy.” Quinn smiled back, an edge of sadness to it.
It sounded like Richard was the only person that had cared about her, and it seemed like in the end, he'd just been using her.
“You make them hollow?” Grady asked, picking up a leg and peering into it.
“I didn't used to,” Gloria said. “I've made some with rice for doorstops. And solid ones for display. But Richard, he really looks after me, you know?”
“We know,” Quinn murmured.
“He said that it would be cheaper to make them hollow. Fewer materials. Sweet boy, always looking out for me.”
Quinn's chest ached. “Miss Pilla—”
“Call me Gloria, please.”
Quinn smiled. “Gloria, do you have the names of his friends? Any way we could contact them?”
Her smile faltered. “Oh. No, sorry, dear. Uh—” She waved her hand. “Dane and Errol, those are their names. Just no—no number. They gave me a post box, to post their orders to.”
“How often do they put in orders?”
“Lately there's been a lot more.” She looked around at her workshop. “Busy, busy. Not enough hours, you know?”
“Have you been sleeping?” Quinn asked, unable to stop the question. She reminded him of his grandmother in a way. They were the complete opposites—Ethel was an absolute firecracker that was going to outlive them all—but there was still something about Gloria that pulled at Quinn's heartstrings.
“Yes, yes.” she said. Quinn wasn't convinced in the least. “Halloween and Christmas can be busy.”
“When did they start buying your dolls, Gloria?” Grady asked. He shuddered at a half-painted head and kept moving around the room.
“Just over a year ago. They came over and helped me with the cobwebs. And mowed the lawn.”
Quinn glanced outside to the backyard, where the lawn was almost at hip height. Not a great time of the year to have long grass; snakes were becoming more and more abundant as the warm weather came through.
“And they were interested in your dolls?”
“Yes. I was making one, and they asked about it, and then they... wanted me to make them some. It was a very lovely gesture. Some pocket money.”
Pocket money. Christ. “Thank you for your help, Gloria. We really appreciate you talking to us.”
“I have cookies. Would you like some?”
They ended up spending another hour looking through old photos—and learning more about Richard than they ever needed to know—but even Grady didn't try to hurry her up.
Once they were back in the car, Quinn turned to Grady after doing his seat belt up. “Mal does landscaping, right?”
“Sometimes. Why?”
“Can you send him over here to give her a hand? Tell him to send me the bill.”
Grady shrugged. “All right; I'll let him know.”
“I really hope the warrant for the PO box comes through,” he muttered. Right now, it was their only lead. All they kept getting were dead ends and more questions.
Will stopped at the entrance to the bullpen and stared.
Quinn was at his desk, with Grady leaning over him and pointing at something on his monitor.
The moment that Quinn spotted him, the small smile on his face morphed into something bigger, something warmer.
It made Will's heart rate pick up speed.
He’d known Quinn a long time and had known that Peyton had a thing for him almost as long.
He’d understood why because Quinn was the epitome of male perfection.
It wasn’t even about his looks—though he was handsome, and those tattoos made Will ache to touch—it was about how he treated people.
He was a protector, but he was kind. A warrior but empathetic. Strong but soft.
Will just… hadn’t thought about it much beyond that. Now he couldn’t think of anything else. It was strange to think that he knew what was hidden beneath that suit, that he knew what Quinn sounded like when he came, what his hands felt like over every inch of his body, how he kissed.
He hesitated as he approached Quinn, unsure what he was allowed. He didn’t even really know what the four of them were doing and whether Quinn—or any of them, really—wanted it known what they were to each other.
Quinn answered the question when he stood and gave Will a kiss in greeting.
It was quick, a cursory glance of their lips against one another, but it warmed Will all the way to his toes.
That he was willing to acknowledge Will like this meant that it meant something.
That maybe it wasn’t just Will who was getting caught up in all of them so thoroughly.
“I brought food,” Will said, holding up the bag in his hand.
“My hero,” Quinn murmured.
Will turned to Grady, who was ignoring them in favour of aggressively typing on his keyboard. “Did you want some?”
“No.” A look passed between the partners that Will couldn’t decipher. “I’ll keep looking into this company.”
Quinn led him through to the break room, where one other person was sitting at the long table in the middle of the room. Will recognised Gideon; he hadn’t worked with every detective in Sydney, but some made an impression.
“Are you… colouring?” Will asked, trying to see what Gideon was hunched over. He had a stack of colouring books beside himself and an impressive array of coloured pencils.
“It’s good stress relief,” Gideon said with a shrug, totally unfazed. All of Will’s interactions with the man had taught him that “unfazed” was his default setting. He always had a smile at the ready.
Quinn took the bag from him, and Will slid into the seat opposite Gideon. “Let me see.”
Gideon pushed the stack over to him, and Will searched through them. Most of them featured random animals. Only one of them was an adult one, and the number of tiny sections made Will want to scratch his eyes out, so it was a definite pass. He held it up in question.
Gideon shuddered. “A gift. I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out, but it’s dead weight.”
Will nodded in understanding. Gifts were hard.
Quinn handed Will a plate of the mishmash of food he'd picked up from a food court at the plaza nearby: finger foods, hot chips, and fried rice. He hadn't really known what Quinn liked, so he'd grabbed a bit of everything, figuring he'd like at least one thing in the bag. Hopefully.
Will pushed the plate between him and Gideon, and Gideon absently grabbed a mini spring roll as he switched a blue pencil for a purple.
“Just put it on Greer’s desk as a recycled gift. He’ll dispose of it for you,” Quinn said, settling in beside Will, their thighs pressed closed together.
Gideon snorted with laughter. “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?” He snatched the colouring book and placed it beside himself, giving it a pat. “You and I have some plans later,” he told it conspiratorially.
“This is good,” Will said, pointing at half the spring roll in his mouth.
“Try it.” He lifted the remaining half to Quinn’s lips, and Quinn dutifully opened.
His thumb slipped inside for a second, and Quinn gave the tip a small lick.
Heat flared in Will’s gut, and he had to grip his chair to stop himself from giving Quinn the kiss he really wanted to give him.
One that wasn’t appropriate with an audience.
“Young love,” Gideon sighed. “How dreamy.”
Quinn flung a chip at him. “You’re younger than me, and you had your shot with Lucia.”
“Alas, she realised she could have bigger and better things.”
“Literally or figuratively?” Will asked, laughing.
“A man must keep some secrets,” Gideon said. He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I need to get up before Ange comes looking for me, but I can’t be bothered.”
“She’s busy with Henry,” Quinn said helpfully. “You’ve probably got some leeway.”
Gideon shrugged, but it was tense and loaded with something Will couldn’t quite get his finger on.
Gideon packed up all of his books and the colouring pencils into a cupboard next to the fridge. All except the adult colouring book of death. He picked that one up on his way to the door. “Wish me luck!”
“If he shoots you, I’m not getting involved,” Quinn called to his back.
Will scooped up some of the fried rice with a spoon and smiled at Quinn as he chewed. “So, do you have any hobbies?” he asked curiously. “Do you get out the colouring books with Gideon? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Quinn shot him an amused look. “That hobby is all Gid. Grady tried it once, got upset, and threw his entire book in the trash. Gideon won’t let him touch them anymore.”
“I’m… not sure whose side I should be on, because on the one hand if it was like that adult colouring book, I would also throw it in the trash, but that dinosaur one I saw looked pretty fun.”
“I’ll leave the colouring to you and Gideon.”
“How did he even get into colouring?” He opened his mouth when Quinn returned the favour and gave him some of his spring roll.
“His kid, probably.”
“Gideon has a kid?”
“ Yeah, a six-year-old named Hudson. Good thing he takes after his mother.”
Will laughed. “I can see him as a dad. He’d be the fun one.” He pushed his plate away, feeling comfortably full. “So, if not colouring, then what do you do?”
“I dabble in photography when I have time. Sometimes I try my hand at baking, but the results are less than favourable, and I’ve come to accept that my sweets game isn’t going to win me any awards.”
“You can’t win everything,” Will said consolingly.
“No,” Quinn agreed with a small smirk. “Luckily, there’s a bakery around the corner that sells custard tarts that we’re all positive are laced with something, so we’re well supplied.”
“With drugged baked goods?”
“I’ll bring some home tonight; you’ll understand.”
Will was looking forward to it. He was enjoying the time he and Peyton were spending at Quinn’s, though he missed his own bed.
He didn’t like the way this whole thing was making him look over his shoulder or the way he was worried that next time, Sebastian would be alone, and no one would be around to help him.
He wanted this over with and the person responsible behind bars where they belonged.
”I like to bake. It was something my brothers and I did together as kids. ”
“Bread or sweets?”
“Sweets, mostly. Cupcakes. Cakes. Cupcakes. Cookies. Cupcakes. Slices. Mum helped us make stuff to put in lunches for school.”
“I can just imagine you as a primary-school kid, wide-eyed with your lunch box, ready for the day.”
“Joke’s on you: that was totally me.” He pointed at his teeth. “I even had the buck teeth. I grew into them... a little bit.”
“I like your teeth.”
“Well, thanks. I like when you trace them with your tongue.”
Quinn chuckled. The light tinge of red that appeared on his cheeks was cute too.
“So… photos…” Will grinned wide. “Ever taken nude photos?”
Quinn choked a little on his fried rice and had to clear his throat for a few seconds. “No, sorry, William,” he said, his voice a little hoarse.
“Shame.”
“Are you offering to be my first?”
“I think Peyton would be a better test subject. His body would make a nun turn from her duties. But I do have a great ass.”
“You do,” Quinn murmured, glancing appreciatively at the body part that Will was currently sitting on.
“Tasteful ass pictures?” Will leaned forward into Quinn’s space. Quinn always smelled so damn good. “That’s a thing, right?”
Quinn kissed the corner of Will’s mouth. “We could make it a thing.”
Will captured his mouth, unable to resist the lure.
He hadn’t expected the detective to get under his skin so quickly.
Surely if they’d had a connection, it would have manifested before now?
He’d known Quinn for years even if mostly on his periphery.
He had admired Quinn, but it had been at a professional level.
And yet, in barely a week, he’d become someone more important to him.
Someone he craved. It wasn’t with the same intensity as with Peyton, but the familiarity he had with Peyton was hard to compete against. It didn’t feel like they were competing, though.
Quinn, and Peyton, and Sebastian were settling together inside Will.
The four of them twined together in a way Will didn’t want to let go of.
There was potential for something amazing; he just knew it.
And he wanted to explore it, wanted to find out.