Quinlan watched out the driver’s-side window. Having parked only two houses away from Ken’s small brick home, there would be no missing him when he arrived. Slipping under the garage door before Ken lowered it would ensure easy access to him.
The clock on Quinlan’s dash showed eleven fifteen. Ken was due home any second. Quinlan stared in the direction Ken would be coming from. Minutes passed, then a car turned down the street, and a set of headlights shined through Quinlan’s windshield.
That has to be him.
The gun was ready to go, but it would be some time before Quinlan would use it. First, the course of events needed to align perfectly.
Quinlan glanced through the side mirror and saw the car’s right-hand blinker flash as it passed by.
Any second now.
The car turned in to the driveway and idled as the overhead door lifted. As the car continued up the driveway, it was time to go. After bolting out of the car, Quinlan dipped under the overhead and was inside the garage before Ken pressed the button on the remote to lower the door.
Waiting at the back bumper, Quinlan watched as Ken exited the car and headed to the entry door that led into the house.
“Hold it right there.”
Ken spun. His mouth gaped open, and his eyes bulged. “What on earth?”
“Shh…. I don’t want to hear you speak. You’ve said and done more than you should have already.” Quinlan waved the gun in Ken’s face to show it wasn’t a joke. “Open the house door.”
Ken did as told, and with fear and confusion written across his face, he waited for further instructions.
“Now, have a seat on the couch and keep quiet.” Quinlan handed Ken a slip of paper. “I want you to call that number and set up an appointment with this woman named Fay. Give her your address and tell her she needs to come to your house as soon as she can.”
Ken protested but was quickly silenced. A smack to the head with the butt of the gun ensured that.
Quinlan leaned in and spewed the instructions again, that time only inches from Ken’s face. “Did I not explain myself clearly? I said I didn’t want to hear a word from you. Nod if you understand me since there won’t be another warning.”
Ken rubbed his head as he nodded.
“Good. Make the call, talk to Fay, and set up the appointment for her to come here. It isn’t rocket science, Ken. Now do it.” Quinlan took a seat at Ken’s side and watched as he keyed in the phone number. “Put it on Speakerphone. One wrong word or move and I’ll blow your head clean off.”
The phone rang three times before a sultry-voiced woman answered. “This is Fay. How can I improve your night, sugar?”
“Um, hello. My name is Ken, and I’d like to set up an appointment for tonight. Can you come to my home?”
“Of course, honey. All I need is your address and a credit card number. I don’t play that cash game. Too many men try to get their money back, and I end up on the wrong side of their fist.”
“Oh, I would never—”
Fay cut him off. “You don’t have a choice, sweet cheeks. Credit card or the call ends.”
“Of course, of course. I have my card right here.” Ken fumbled with his wallet.
“Good. Go ahead and read the number slowly and clearly.”
He gave Fay all the information she needed, told her his address, and set the time. She would arrive at twelve thirty. Ken ended the call and sat quietly.
“Now, we have forty-two minutes of alone time before the fun begins. Turns out that talking was your downfall, Ken. Don’t you know that cops aren’t your friends? They acted nice to you for one reason and one reason only—to get information, which you gladly gave them. As a matter of fact, not only were you stupid for doing that, but you were even more stupid for telling me about it.” Quinlan knuckled Ken’s forehead. “What’s in there, mothballs? Do you want to plead your case?”
He nodded.
“All right, you get three minutes to talk.”
Ken began. “They wanted me to email them Tammy’s guest and phone logs since the day she moved into the shelter.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, I swear. They’ve interviewed me before, and I told them that she’s never left the shelter during my shift, yet I still doctored the guest log and phone calls so they wouldn’t look suspicious.”
“But then your conscience got the better of you, didn’t it?”
He nodded again.
“And you confessed to me what you’d done.”
“Uh-huh.”
“What exactly did you change before you sent the information to the detective?”
“I removed every phone call and visitor except the ones from Tammy’s neighbor, Nancy Bingham. I assumed that would be acceptable.”
“And then you sent the scrubbed email to which detective?”
“McCord.”
“I see. You get a few points for being honest with me, but you aren’t entirely out of the woods. Now, close your mouth and don’t speak again.” Quinlan rose from the couch, walked to the window, and separated the slats on the blinds. A car had just parked at the curb, and a woman stepped out. “Looks like the party is about to begin. Fay is coming up the sidewalk. Get over here and answer the door.”
Quinlan stood out of sight against the coat closet as Ken reached for the doorknob. The nine-millimeter pistol was pointed directly at his head.
“Remember, one stupid move and you’re as good as dead.”
After opening the door, Ken invited Fay inside. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable.”
“Don’t mind if I do, honey. What did you say your name was, Keith?”
“No, Ken.”
“Oh, yeah, Kenny. That’s cute.”
“I prefer being called Ken.”
Fay spun at the sound of the door being slammed behind her. She was met with a gun aimed directly at her face. “What the hell is this? You can’t hold me up. I don’t carry any cash with me.”
“Shut up, bitch, and have a seat on the couch.” Quinlan waved the gun in front of them. “That goes for both of you.”
A look of panic spread across Fay’s face. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Ken shook his head as if to warn Fay to be quiet.
“You must be an independent,” Quinlan said. “So there’s no driver waiting outside who’ll storm this place if you aren’t out in an hour’s time?” Quinlan waited then slapped Fay’s cheek, leaving a red handprint behind. “That was a question, although rhetorical, but I still expect an answer.”
“No, no driver. I came here alone.”
“Perfect. I like clean executions—no mess, no fuss.”
“Executions? Meaning what?”
“Death, stupid. What do you think an execution means?”
“Whose?”
“Yours, of course.”
“I don’t know you. I’ve never seen you in my life. What do you have against me?” Fay was loud and hysterical.
Quinlan told her to shut up. “I’ll do the talking, and you sit there and listen. You’re a whore, the worst kind of woman. You’re why marriages go to shit and why divorces are at an all-time high. People like you seduce married men and cause them to cheat on their wives. That breaks up families, and children end up being raised by one parent who has to work their ass off to put food on the table. Or even worse, the parent relinquishes the children to the system and loses track of them. You’re despicable, and that’s why you need to be put down like a rabid animal.”
“I’ve done nothing to you! You can’t do this!”
Quinlan screwed the silencer onto the end of the pistol. “That’s where you’re wrong, Fay. I’m in charge, and I can do anything I want.”
In a split second, it was over. Too busy defending herself, Fay apparently didn’t see it coming. Smoke swirled above the end of the silencer, and Fay was dead, her chin against her chest. Blood spray covered Ken’s right shoulder, neck, and the side of his face. He screamed as if in disbelief.
“Why did you kill her? What has gotten into you?”
“Long overdue justice, that’s what. You weren’t on my kill list, Ken, but now, I have to add betrayal to the mix.”
“But I didn’t betray—”
Quinlan pulled the trigger again, and Ken’s head snapped back. He toppled over sideways against Fay. Behind the couch, blood coated what had been an ivory-colored wall. Quinlan picked up both shell casings, turned off the lights, and slipped out the side door.