“It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data.”
—Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
Aiden was waiting for them at the lobby of the police station.
“Thanks for coming right away.” He didn’t seem surprised that Daria was with her. He gave her a chin lift as a greeting. “How are you holding up?”
Daria shrugged. “I’m all good. What about you?”
He stopped cold. “Really? You’re good? Even after being held against your will with a gun to your head?”
Daria sucked in air.
His reaction knocked the sass right out of her.
He went on. “You find you’re not ‘all good,’” he said, using his fingers as air quotes, “you let me know, right away. I’ll connect you to Victim’s Services, make sure you see a counselor who knows what they’re doing. In fact, consider it done. I’ll call the Reverend Mother and let her know.”
Quinn noticed the veins in Daria’s neck thrumming hard. Aiden was right to call her out on her frivolous attitude. That’s something she should have done. Had Daria been covering this whole time, acting as if she were right as rain while personally struggling with what had happened to her at Guinefort House?
“Thanks, Aiden, but I swear I’m okay.”
“Then seeing a trauma-informed social worker will be a quick visit for you.”
Quinn watched them both, wondering what would happen next.
Daria’s face muscles tightened, and her cousin couldn’t tell if her reaction was due to being annoyed or actually afraid. “Fine,” she said. “I’ll go. Satisfied?”
Those gray cop eyes of his assessed her cousin. Quinn guessed he was mollified with what he saw because the hardness melted away as he nodded. “All right, follow me. You can come in together.”
They walked through the station, just like she had weeks before. Quinn was glad to see Officers Carter and Johnson laughing over something. They stopped when they saw her walk by, and each gave her a nod.
Aiden led them to a part of the building she’d never been in. Judging from the slew of computers and tech equipment, she assumed they were in Vienna PD’s IT division. He opened a door at the end of the hall. There was already someone sitting inside, facing a huge screen, his fingers moving at lightning speed across the keyboard.
“Quinn, Daria, this is Gavin. He’s going to run through the footage we found. Have a seat.”
There were two chairs, one on either side of Gavin, who offered a perfunctory head nod while his eyes remained glued to the screen.
Positioning himself by the large screen, Aiden got started. “As you may or may not be aware, we have police cameras positioned on Maple Avenue and Lawyer’s Road, since those are the main arteries running through town. We have only one on Church Street, and that’s on the Glyndon cross street, which, as you know, is too far down to have captured anything. But we still caught a break. Okay, go ahead and roll the footage, Gav.”
He hit “Play.” Aiden turned off the lights in the room before returning to the screen. “This camera belongs to that new restaurant across the street from Prose & Scones. It took us longer than we’d like to get hold of the footage, and unfortunately it’s not great quality, but something is better than nothing.
“Their camera doesn’t run twenty-four hours, but they do have it recording from dusk until dawn, give or take an hour or so on either end. The time stamp here”—he pointed to the screen—“indicates it was 5:38 AM. The suspect must have parked out of frame from this camera, but, okay, here you see them walking toward the store.”
Quinn watched the assailant move at a fast clip, but then the feed popped and zapped, distorting the image. The picture zapped back, and the suspect entered the patio. The person’s back was to the camera, wearing a hoodie about three sizes too big. Just as the person took something out of his or her pocket, the feed cut out again for several seconds.
Aiden let out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, as you can see, the quality stinks, but based on what we have ascertained, the suspect is about five eight, with a slender build in spite of the baggy clothes.”
Daria leaned back in her chair. “No offense, Aiden, but that describes most of Vienna already.”
“No offense taken. You’re right. But keep watching. See if there’s anything about them you recognize.”
They kept watching the video feed as it cut back in. Quinn’s heart was beating fast. Just watching someone planning to hurt her dog made her want to jump out of her skin. If there was a way to run away and clobber someone at the same time, she would have done it.
“Unfortunately, once they enter the courtyard, it’s too dark for us to see them laying down the tainted biscuits. Whoever it was, they were in there for no more than ten seconds.”
Quinn watched the jerk face walking away from the patio. Aiden asked Gavin to zoom in some. “Of course, we can’t be a hundred percent sure, but from their gait, we’re thinking the suspect’s male. Quinn, I want you to watch him move. Is this person familiar in any way?”
Quinn watched. “Can you replay that part again?”
Gavin nodded. “Sure thing.”
She wanted to be sure. The tape played, and Quinn studied it as if everything depended on it. Because it did.
Quinn peered at the screen. “I just wish I could see his face.”
Aiden glanced over at her, wearing a pained expression. “Yeah, whoever this is, he wasn’t taking any chances.” He motioned to his colleague. “Gavin, pause the video for a sec. Thanks. As you can see, he pulled the strings of the hood tight. I don’t even know how he was able to see where he was going.”
Daria peered closer. “All I can see is a nose sticking out.”
Gavin tsked. “Due to the low resolution of the footage, we can’t get a real description. We can’t even be sure if it’s a male or female.”
Daria piped in. “Could be someone non-binary, you know.”
“True,” Aiden said. “We have just enough here to make assumptions, which is a dangerous thing.”
Quinn let out a sardonic laugh, which was something, considering none of this was funny.
Gavin went on. “We were able to determine one small identifying marker—the crisscrossed fish logo from the hoodie brand he was wearing. It’s one I’ve never heard of, but maybe you two have. It’s called Hering.”
Quinn drew a blank. Daria seemed just as clueless.
Aiden leaned against Gavin’s desk. “I did a little research. They’re a huge Latin American textile and retail company, with clothing stores in Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, Uruguay, Bolivia, and Venezuela. It’s an unusual brand for someone to wear in the States. Maybe this guy does business down there. We’re checking it out. You can stop the feed. Thanks, Gav.”
“No problem, boss.”
Aiden kept his eye on the screen. “Do you know someone who wears that clothing line?”
She hunched her shoulders up. “A Latin American brand? I don’t think so.”
“So, when you and Scott were, um … dating, he didn’t wear anything like that?”
“No, he only wears either Vineyard Vines or Ralph Lauren. It’s his thing—something about him wanting to buy American or something like that.”
Aiden pushed himself off the desk and turned on the lights. “I figured as much, but we had to try.” He gestured out of the room. “C’mon—I’ll walk you two out.”
They followed, neither cousin feeling much like chitchatting. Once they returned to the lobby, Aiden placed a gentle hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He glanced over at Daria. “She won’t be long.”
Awareness colored her gaze. “Take all the time you want. I’ll wait outside.”
He must have given some sort of unspoken signal to the other staff working the front desk, because they took off too. Once they were alone, he dropped his hand.
“We’re going to catch the guy, Quinn. I won’t rest until I do.”
She realized he thought she was disappointed in him. “Aiden, I have faith in you. That’s not why I’m feeling … actually I can’t quite put into words what I’m feeling. I’m all over the place.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“I just don’t get it. Why would someone want to hurt my dog?”
Those cop eyes steeled. “It was a message to stop doing your own investigation. You must have someone tweaked.”
She stared off, remembering the other day. “Did Bash tell you how we bumped into Mrs. Hauser at Lucas’s place? She overheard a bit of what we were talking about, about the tire treads left at the scene. Then Lucas pulled a bunch of pine tree twigs out of her wheel well, ones that looked identical to the stuff stuck in the treads of the getaway car. Obviously, her car wasn’t the getaway car, but it was the lead that got me thinking—”
“And onto someone’s radar,” he interrupted. “Yeah, Quinn, I know all about it.”
She could tell he was annoyed. “Aiden, that wasn’t Mrs. Hauser in that video footage. It wasn’t any Hauser, including Scott.”
“No, but it could’ve been someone she hired. It could be someone else not even on our radar yet. Everything is still speculative, but we will figure it out. And the next time, you could be the target—or someone else you love.”
She hadn’t thought of that. The idea of someone in her family being hurt. Poisoned. Run over by a car. Strangled. The rabbit hole, endless. She shuddered.
“Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened.”
He let out an audible sigh. “Good.”
“You know, I have to admit … after living just a brief time in your shoes, I don’t know how you do it.”
He scratched the side of his face. “You’ve got to follow the evidence where it leads. It’s okay to have a working theory as long as you don’t try to shape the facts to fit whatever theory you have. It’s not easy, but it can be done. In time, and with practice, which you’ll no longer be trying for, right?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Is there something you want to say?”
“I don’t know, Quinn. Are you a woman who keeps her promises?”
Ouch, that stung. But he was right. She had broken her word, and they both knew she was taught better than that.
“I will keep my promises to you, Aiden.”
He grunted in response. She guessed that was a “yes” or an “all is forgiven” in hot-guy detective code.
There was still a problem: it had become too dangerous to go in search of answers. But there were too many questions left dangling, and it was going to drive her crazy.
“Do you think the person who poisoned RBG is the same one who killed Tricia?”
“I think someone wanted to send you one hell of a message, and they wouldn’t do that unless they’re either the culprit or trying to protect someone else who is.” He took a step closer, taking a deep breath. “In the meantime, I hope you know I’ve got your back. Can you let that be enough for a while?”
She thought she’d never deny Aiden Harrington anything. She sure didn’t want anyone she loved getting hurt, especially because of her actions. But there was a killer still out there. How could she sleep at night, knowing she or he was free to hurt more people?
By the time she rejoined Daria outside, Quinn didn’t know what she was going to do or where she was headed. She was lost, right in the heart of her hometown.