Becoming Quinn

He leaned forward until his shirt brushed the tips of her fingers. She jerked her hand away.

“Look, I’m a police officer. So back off right now.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I know. I’ve always respected cops. That is, as long as they don’t poke into things they shouldn’t.”

He leaned to the side, placing a hand on the trunk of the BMW.

“Don’t do that,” she said.

“Why? Is this yours?” he asked.

“It’s part of an investigation. You could be damaging evidence.”

He snickered, then lifted his hand. “Sorry.”

“What do you want? Do you work here or something?”

“Me?” he asked as he reached up and ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Nah.”

That’s when it clicked. The dark-haired man from the RPL footage. Mr. Walters.

She took a step back, suddenly wishing she was armed with more than just her badge.

“Put your hands on the car, and spread your legs!” she shouted.

For a second, he froze, then he smiled and said, “I thought you told me you didn’t want me touching it.”

“Put your hands on the car. Now!”

“No problem, Officer Davies,” he said, placing his palms on the top of the trunk.

He knows my name! How does he know my name?

“Spread your legs,” she ordered.

“I could say the same to you, but I don’t want you thinking I’m coming on to you.”

“Shut up,” she said, keeping her voice as calm as possible.

“Because I’m not. You’re not my type.”

“I said, shut up.”

“I prefer my women less…curious.”

She grabbed her phone out of her pocket.

“That’s not a good idea,” the man said.

“Don’t move!”

Without taking her eyes off him, she started to dial 911.

“I did warn you,” the man said.

Before the last word was completely out of his mouth, his leg flew up, his shoe smacking into her hand, knocking the phone to the car. She heard it hit then skitter across the ground, but she didn’t take the time to look where it ended up.

Instead, she ran.

* * *

Spread out on the meeting room table were the items Jake had shown the two detectives.

“I understand you undertook a little investigation on your own,” Commander Ashworth said.

“I…uh…was just playing a hunch. That’s all,” Jake said.

The commander’s face remained impassive. “You removed evidence from the crime scene.”

This, Jake knew, was his biggest mistake. He should have turned over the matchbook right away. He could have still looked into things without it. “I didn’t mean to, sir. I just didn’t think that it was—”

“Let me stop you right there,” the commander said. “You are aware that unauthorized removal of evidence from a crime scene is illegal?”

“Uh…well, yes, sir. But I was under the impression that the area had already been—”

“Did you remove the matchbook from the crime scene?”

Jake took a breath. “Yes, sir.”

“So now I’m sitting here with one of my officers who’s broken the law,” Commander Ashworth said.

“A rookie officer,” Young said.

Ashworth said nothing to correct the detective. His eyes were locked on Jake. “Well?”

“Sir?” Jake said, not sure what Ashworth was asking.

The first sign of displeasure crossed Ashworth’s face. “What made you think that you were even qualified to investigate anything?”

“I, um…it’s just…uh…”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry, sir. Nothing made me think that.”

“I don’t think it was nothing, Oliver,” the commander said. “I think it was arrogance and stupidity, wouldn’t you agree?”

No, he wouldn’t agree. It hadn’t been an ego trip that had driven him. It had been curiosity. Besides, the point everyone seemed to be missing was that he’d actually found something.

“Sir, did they tell you what I learned?”

The commander picked up the photo of the two men. “You mean this? Detective Hubbard and Detective Young couldn’t explain for me how you were able to link these two men to a book of matches.”

“Well, sir…” What was he going to say? That he’d seen one of them pick up a book as they left the hotel? They could probably look at the footage and find a dozen other guests who had done the same thing. Tell them it was just a feeling? Jake was screwed. “Sir, we placed them at a coffee shop near Goodman Ranch Road the night of the murder.”

“We?” the commander asked.

It took every ounce of Jake’s will not to show that he’d made a mistake. “The force, sir. I was talking about us as a whole.”

“There was no we, Oliver. There was only you.”

“I’m sorry, sir. You’re right. I placed them at the coffee shop near Goodman Ranch Road.”

The commander leaned back, his lips pressed tightly together. After a moment, he started picking up each piece of the evidence Jake had given the detectives. “You know what I see here? Crap. It’s all crap.”

He turned to the side and dumped everything into a trashcan next to the wall.

“Officer Oliver, you are suspended for the remainder of the month. If this ever happens again, you’ll be lucky if I even let you work parking enforcement. Now get out.”

* * *

It was fun to toy with her. In most of his assignments, Larson didn’t have that option. His employers liked to play things by the book. Clean, quick and quiet — that’s what they wanted. He could do that, of course. It wasn’t as enjoyable, but he did get a certain sense of satisfaction out of it. Every once in a while, though, he needed a little more. So he was delighted by the unexpected opportunity that had just presented itself.

Calling Durrie had never even crossed his mind. For one thing, the situation had changed too rapidly for Larson to waste time on the phone, but most importantly, it would have denied him this gift.

She hadn’t heard him until the last moment, then he’d heightened her obvious unease from finding him there by crowding her space. That was energizing.

But then the bitch had nearly derailed his agenda.

She knew who he was. He saw it in her eyes a second before she ordered him to put his hands on the car. She knew who he was!

Durrie had been wrong. The two cops had somehow fingered him on the security footage. That just solidified the fact that the cleaner was an idiot, and that Larson was doing the right thing.

He’d been able to get the phone out of her hand, but she was on the run now. That was fine as long as she didn’t reach anyone.

In fact, it was more than fine. It was fantastic.

* * *

Berit’s choices had been to either run toward the main building or away from it. Part of her had screamed the latter wasn’t a choice at all. She should run toward the building. Help was there. Witnesses. Escape. But the other part knew she’d left the passenger door to the BMW open, and it would have taken seconds she didn’t have to move it out of her way. So she had gone the other way, toward the back of the lot,