Ruby phoned the police. This caught Quinn off guard, assuming Ruby wouldn’t want to spoil the moment, the opportunity to keep Jacob talking. But it was too late—he’d already clammed back up and returned to drawing. His new bear friend rested on his lap, looking on.
Ruby hung her head. She looked relieved. Jacob had spoken, finally admitting what happened the night Evie died, from his point of view. Maybe she thought the revelation would lead police in a new direction, offer additional clues, help solve the murder. Quinn didn’t see how. He hadn’t said anything alarming. Nothing new. Nothing earth shattering.
“You need to understand,” Ruby started. “I was only trying to—”
“Stop, Ruby,” Quinn said. “There’s a time and a place for this conversation, and it isn’t now, or here, or in front of your grandson. If that’s too hard, I’ll leave, and I’ll take Jacob. And you can deal with the police on your own.”
“You couldn’t take Jacob from me even if you wanted to. For now, I’m his temporary guardian.”
“Emphasis on the word temporary.”
Ruby took Quinn by the wrist, led her into the kitchen, whispered, “You really don’t get it, do you? Don’t you know what this means? I was right. Jacob saw who did it. He can ID the bastard!”
“I don’t care. You won’t keep pressing him, Ruby. I won’t allow it.”
“I like you, Quinn, but don’t push me. I’m his blood. His family.”
“I know you are, and I’m trying to give you the respect you deserve. And right now, you need to respect what’s best for him.”
“You’re chastising me like you think I’m intentionally trying to hurt him.”
“Neither of us knows the impact Evie’s death has had on him,” Quinn said. “He used to talk nonstop. Now he’s shutting down, bottling it all up inside. It isn’t like him, Ruby.”
Hand on hip, Ruby said, “What do you propose?”
“Once I’m granted guardianship, I’m taking him to see a therapist.”
“Your solution is to send him to some quack?”
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to help him through this, and so should you.”
The phone rang. Ruby answered it. One of her neighbors asked if Jacob would like to join their four-year-old daughter on a trip to the ice cream parlor. A few minutes later, he was picked up.
“He’ll be fine, Quinn,” Ruby said. “Stop worrying.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
Ruby put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “You didn’t have to, dear.” She pointed at a car across the street. It pulled out, followed the neighbors van. “See those men in that car? They’re cops. They’ll make sure Jacob’s safe.”
A few minutes later a heavy rapping sound came from the other side of the front door. Ruby opened the door and two men entered. Bo and Kyle Grady, another one of Quinn’s former classmates.
Kyle bobbed his head around the corner, his eyes widening when he saw Quinn. “Quinn Montgomery? Is that you? I heard you were back in town.”
“Good to see you, Kyle.”
She meant it too. Kyle had always had a way with women, a gift for reeling the girls in, which, in high school meant he had a plethora of ladies swarming around him at any given time. Voted “biggest flirt,” he knew how to say the right thing in almost any situation. And with his messy, jet-black hair and square, symmetrical face, he was easy to gawk at, too. And gawk Quinn did. Eye level, and parked right in front of her, she had no other option.
Kyle scooped Quinn into his muscular arms, twirled her around. “Man, seems like forever since I saw you last. We’ve missed you around here. How long you stayin’?”
“Permanently, I hope.”
Bo tapped him on the shoulder. “You might want to ease up before you squeeze the life out of her.”
Kyle released Quinn, laughed. “Why do you care how tight I hold this fine woman, Bo? You’re with Simone now, aren’t ya?”
Simone?
Earlier, Harvey made it clear Bo wasn’t in a relationship. Was he in the dark as much as she was, or had Harvey kept it from her?
Hearing Bo was exclusive with another woman wasn’t something Quinn expected. Then again, Bo had never admitted to being single—she’d just assumed it. And why wouldn’t she? He’d gone through a lot of effort to talk to her. Not to mention the fact his place was prime bachelor-pad material. It didn’t contain one shred of evidence he was in a relationship. No girlfriend photos, no pink overnight toothbrush in the bathroom. Nothing.
She had no right to ask, to meddle in his personal affairs. She did anyway. “Who’s Simone?”
Bo looked at Kyle like a bull sizing up a matador. Kyle continued his overzealous babbling, saying, “Oh hey, man. I didn’t know she didn’t know. I swear. Figured you told her. My bad.”
Quinn didn’t buy Kyle’s innocent act, and judging from the look on Bo’s face, neither did he. Bo deflected the conversation by switching gears, asking Ruby to recall what Jacob had said before they arrived. She told him. He considered the information, then said, “Look, I’m not trying to be rude here, but you can’t call us every time Jacob says something. I know you’re anxious for us to find the person who killed Evie. We are too. Believe me. But unless it’s something significant, there’s not a lot I can do.”
“I disagree,” Ruby said. “You can try talking to him again.”
“We’ve tried. Multiple times. I’m not going to push him again until he’s ready. Until then, we’re working some other leads.”
“What leads?” Ruby asked.
“I can’t talk about it right now.”
“Of course not,” Quinn added. “You can’t talk about anything.”
“Quinn, don’t,” Bo said.
“Don’t what—state the obvious?” she said. “Excuse us for trying to find out what happened to Evie.”
Bo exhaled a long, frustrated breath. He walked over to the table, lifted a piece of paper off of it. “Did Jacob draw this?”
Ruby nodded.
“Looks like a cat or a lion or something. A lot of detail for a four-year-old kid.”
Bo removed a phone from his pocket, snapped a picture. Quinn followed suit.
“What are you doing?” Bo asked.
“Same thing you’re doing.”
Bo was right. The drawing was elaborate for such a young age. A cat inside a circle, paws up, crown on his head. Either Jacob had a gifted imagination, or he’d copied the image from somewhere.
Bo folded the drawing, shoved it inside his pocket.
Kyle walked over, rested his hands on Quinn’s shoulders. “You have any dinner plans tonight?”
“What did you have in mind?” Quinn asked.
“I’ll be off in an hour. You wanna grab dinner later?”
“Her friend just died,” Bo said, “and you’re asking her out on a date?”
“It’s not a date, Bo,” Kyle replied. “It’s dinner. It’s a shame, what happened to Evie. You still gotta eat though, right?”
“Don’t you think you’re putting her on the spot?” Bo asked.
Kyle’s eyes rolled back. “Come out with me tonight, Quinn. I promise to keep you smilin’.”
Bo fidgeted, his finger almost tapping a hole into the side of the wall, the sound growing louder the more Kyle engaged Quinn in conversation. It was his tell, something he’d always done whenever he was nervous. He had a girlfriend. Why did he care what she did and who she did it with?
Quinn wanted nothing more than to slip into a pair of flannel pajamas, crawl into bed, and read the contents of the letter Evie left her. But Kyle was fun, and even the smallest adjustment in mood sounded inviting.
“You remember where my parents live don’t you?” she asked.
Kyle nodded. “I do.”
“Great. See you in an hour.”