Quinn collapsed in a heap on an antique chair that didn’t look like it could hold her weight. She looked so small, so fragile, that Taylor couldn’t resist reaching out, giving Quinn what she hoped was a comforting touch on the shoulder. Quinn stiffened. Taylor removed her hand.
“I’m sorry, Quinn. Sorry that things have to be like this for you. Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?” Taylor’s voice was low, coaxing, as if Quinn were a startled cat she was trying to get out from under a couch. Quinn didn’t move for a moment, then sighed heavily. All the fight went out of her.
“Let’s go back in the library. I’ll help you any way that I can.”
The three filed back into the library. Taylor and Baldwin resumed their positions on the couch, watching Quinn wander around the room. They didn’t interrupt when she finally started to speak.
“Jake and I have been having problems for some time now. It’s been a couple of years, actually. We had a fight, a horrible, terrible fight on a Sunday evening two months ago. Jake was getting ready for another business trip-you know he travels constantly for his job. I wanted him to stay home, to pick me over Health Partners just once. That’s when he admitted he’d been cheating on me. He’d taken up with some intern that he’d met, a marketing company he works with. The affair was brief, only a couple of days, but it was like he’d decided then and there that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I didn’t know what to do. What woman is ever prepared to go through the realization that her husband doesn’t love her anymore? I did the only thing I knew to do. I had separation papers drawn up. I showed them to him last Monday night. That’s why I wasn’t answering the phone when Whitney called. I was telling my husband that he can kiss me, his kids, his house and my money goodbye. He stormed out of here, and I haven’t seen him since.”
Baldwin tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “He was having an affair with an intern? Do you know if this was here in town or out on the road?”
“I’d like to think Jake had the common sense to keep his philandering at a distance.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “Of course, I was wrong about that. Gabrielle and Whitney, right under my nose. My God, I am such a bloody idiot!”
“Of course you aren’t. These things happen,” he comforted. “I’m sorry to have to put you through this, Mrs. Buckley. But the affair, the intern. Do you know…?”
“I believe it was New Orleans, during Mardi Gras, something like that.”
“Did he mention a name?”
“Oh, it was something French. Started with a J.”
“Jeanette Lernier?” Baldwin asked.
Quinn waved a hand. “It could have been. I didn’t stick around to hear all the gory details.” She paused, processing. “Wait a minute. You knew her name off the top of your head. You already knew he’d been with her. How did you-I don’t want to know.” She stopped talking, defeated, a hand over her eyes.
Baldwin’s and Taylor’s eyes met. Quinn needed to know. Baldwin took a deep breath. “Jeanette Lernier was the second victim of the Southern Strangler.”
Quinn’s hand dropped and her eyes flew open. Comprehension dawned at last.
“Jesus,” she muttered.
They were running out of time. Taylor cleared her throat. “Jake hasn’t called home this week? No word from him at all?”
“No, Lieutenant, not a peep.” She laughed shrilly. “Maybe I didn’t handle things well. I should have told him the truth from day one, when we first met.”
Baldwin spoke softly. “Tell the truth about what, Mrs. Buckley?”
She glanced at him for a moment, cool, appraising, then turned away. “The truth about what happened to Whitney and me when we were children. About what a farce our lives were. You remember,” she accused Taylor. “You probably know the whole story already, being a cop.”
All three of them jumped when Taylor’s phone rang. She was tempted to let it ring but knew she had to answer. “I’m so sorry. Please, let me just take this call. I don’t know the whole story, Quinn. Police reports and court transcripts only tell half of it. I’d like to hear your side. Excuse me for a moment.”
She glanced at the caller ID. It was Fitz. She picked up the phone and stepped out of the room. “Jackson here.” As he spoke, she couldn’t believe what she heard.
Hanging up, she went back into the library. Baldwin and Quinn were quiet, subdued. Taylor took a deep breath before she spoke. This news was going to tear a rift through Quinn’s life so large that it would most likely be irreparable.
“Quinn, please. I have some news about Jake.”
Quinn didn’t look at her, just sank gracefully into a chair, hands clasped in her lap. She was holding on so tight her knuckles were white. “Go ahead. This day can’t get any worse.”
“Quinn, Jake’s been arrested. His car was pulled over on I-65, heading south to Nashville from Kentucky. He had…” Her voice wavered for an instant, then gained strength. “He had a body in the trunk of his car. We believe that it’s Ivy Tanner Clark, the girl who went missing from Louisville yesterday.”
Baldwin stood, ready to pepper her with questions, but she held up a hand. “Jake’s being transported to the Criminal Justice Center downtown. Special Agent Baldwin and I are needed down there right away. We have to interrogate him after he’s booked. Do you understand what I’m saying, Quinn?”
Quinn’s lips were stretched taut, a bloodless line across her crestfallen face. She shook her head once. “Do I need to get him a lawyer?”
“That’s his right. Or he can waive that right and talk to us. Why don’t we go on downtown, you can sort it out there.”
“No.” Quinn’s voice was the strongest they’d heard all afternoon. “No, Goddammit. Let him rot. If he did this, I’m not helping him.” She fled the room and Taylor could hear her footsteps thudding up the stairs. She shrugged and turned to Baldwin.
“We should go. I want to have a few moments alone with Mr. Buckley.”
Forty-Five
Taylor and Baldwin rolled into the CJC in high spirits. After a hellacious few days, the Strangler seemed to have fallen into their laps, a product of solid police work and a little bit of luck. Not to mention the possible resolution of the Rainman case. Taylor was giddy with achievement; her name was going to be linked with the capture of two nationally known criminals. Not that she needed a career boost, but her level of satisfaction with her job rose appreciably when things were going her way.
They made their way down the hall to the Homicide office, chatting. Turning the corner, they found Fitz, Lincoln, Marcus and Captain Price waiting. They didn’t look happy.
“What’s wrong with you guys? You look like the party’s over before it’s even begun. Where’s Buckley?” Taylor peered out of the office toward the interrogation rooms. The lights were on in one. Jake Buckley, the Southern Strangler, would be behind that door. A wave of excitement rolled through her.
Price answered Taylor, looking glum. “He lawyered up. Won’t say a thing, just keeps repeating the word. Lawyer, lawyer, lawyer. He, uh, needs a phone to make the call, but we haven’t found a phone that works yet.”
“Smart move, Cap. Why don’t you let Baldwin and I give it a go, see if he decides to play with us. We have some background on him from his wife. Let’s see if his guilt about her will let him open up.”
“That’s what we were waiting on. Go for it. But if he asks again, we’ll have to let him call his lawyer. Actually, I wouldn’t be surprised to see one wander through the door any second. You were with the wife, right? Wouldn’t she be calling one for him right about now?”
Baldwin shook his head. “I don’t think Quinn Buckley’s going to be doing much of anything in the way of helping her husband right now. She’s one very upset lady.”
“Okay then, give it a whirl. The body was taken to the M.E.’s office. ‘Torn to shreds’ was the phrase the arresting officer used.”
“Torn to shreds?” Taylor turned to look at Price.
“Apparently she’d been stabbed, her throat cut, couple of visible broken bones. Torn up.”
