Deadly Lies
Page 32
“He shouldn’t have said anything.”
“He thought you were a damn hero.” Max glanced over and caught the narrowing of Quinlan’s eyes. “You killed a man, and he thought you were a hero. Wonder what he’d think of me?”
Max just stared at him.
“No hero.” Quinlan’s hand bunched into a fist. “So what the hell kind of man am I?”
Max tried to figure out what to say.
“Max!” He turned at Samantha’s voice. She ran toward him, her face pale. She dodged a few cops. Slipped past the line of cars.
He left Quinlan and hurried to her. Max caught Samantha’s hands and held on tight. “What is it? What happened?”
Her gaze darted behind him. He glanced back. Quinlan was there and moving slowly toward them. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the words were directed at Quinlan. “But Beth Dunlap is dead.”
Quinlan froze. “What?”
Dead? “What happened?” Max asked. He hadn’t heard any gunshots after the agents went inside.
“It appears that Beth went to your father’s room and killed herself.” Samantha paused. Her gaze was still on Quinlan. “She slit her wrists and died at the foot of his bed.”
CHAPTER Fifteen
When the knock came at his apartment door, Max hurried forward, rubbing grainy eyes. He pulled open the door and found Nathan Donnelley waiting for him.
The doctor had a small black bag in his right hand. So damn typical. “I called you an hour ago,” Max said.
Donnelley grunted as he came inside. “Do I need to remind you that I don’t work for you or your family any longer?”
“Since when? Dammit, Donnelley, you were Frank’s private doctor for years. And you just what—walked away?”
“Frank was dead.” Donnelley shrugged. “Therefore I wasn’t needed any longer.”
Max grabbed the man’s arm and dragged him over the threshold. “You’re needed now.” Max slammed the door shut behind him. “Beth’s dead.”
“I know.” Flat. “I heard the report on the news.”
Right. Hell, everyone knew. “I need you to check on Quinlan, okay? He’s too quiet. Shit, I’m worried about him.”
Donnelley’s green eyes raked him. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Check him. I don’t know; go do whatever it is that doctors do when patients are about to break down.” Helpless, yeah, that’s what Max was, and he hated it. “Just make him better.”
That cold, clinical stare pinned him. “You know as well as I do that sometimes, you can’t make people better.”
Because Donnelley had been there when Max’s mother died.
“But I’ll talk to him and see what I can do.” Donnelley brushed by him. “Which room is he in?”
“Down the hall. Second door.” Max exhaled. “Just so damn much,” he muttered. “Every day, something new. I thought this mess was over.”
“I’m sure it will be over,” Donnelly said, not glancing back. “Soon.”
A soft knock rapped on her office door. Sam glanced up, her mind still on the data that she’d retrieved, and mumbled, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Kim Daniels stood there with her eyes glinting. “I need you to come with me, Sam.”
Sam shut off the screen in front of her, automatically hiding the text. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the clock: 8:12 p.m. “Okay, just let me finish up…” She’d hacked her way into Nathan Donnelley’s personal bank account and found out that the man had barely a thousand dollars in his savings. Since the doc drove a top-of-the-line Benz and flashed a Rolex—yeah, she’d caught sight of that watch—the lack of money set off red flags in her mind.
“Hyde needs us all in his office. The ME finished working on Dunlap, and Hyde wants to go over the report.”
Sam jumped up, and the knot of tension at the top of her spine tightened. She followed Kim down the hallway, turned a fast right, and then they were at Hyde’s office.
Luke closed the door behind her. “Thanks,” she whispered, pushing up the glasses that she’d put on earlier. She’d thought the glasses might help to ease the headache she had. No such luck.
Hyde sat on the edge of his desk. His fingers gripped a manila file. Monica Davenport was to his right. Figured. Ramirez wasn’t there. He was still out shadowing Weatherly.
“We’ve got a problem,” Hyde said, and his gaze zeroed in on her.
Her shoulders straightened. “Sir?”
“With the first slash of that glass, the veins and tendons in Beth Dunlap’s wrist were cut, and they were cut too damn deep.”
Sam could still see the blood soaking the wooden floor.
“Because Dunlap was right-handed, we must assume the initial cut was made to her left wrist,” Hyde continued, “and according to the ME, her left hand would have been all but useless within seconds.”
Sam’s breath rushed out. “But her right was cut—”
Hyde shook his head. “The ME says there’s no way Beth Dunlap could have done that on her own. And a tendon was severed there too.”
Oh, hell. Sam rocked back, and her elbow slammed into the closed door.
“Sam?” Luke’s murmur.
She shook her head. “We didn’t see anyone else in the house.”
“Because Beth Dunlap told the doctor—what was his name?” Hyde riffled through his papers. “Donnelley? According to him, she said that his services weren’t needed any longer.”
“And Quinlan told the maids not to come in,” Luke said. “He told them he wanted some space to grieve.” His lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “But during his grieving time, he was f**king Beth Dunlap. It seems Kerri Grace, one of the day maids, heard them upstairs before she was told to hit the road.”
“Upstairs?” Sam asked.
“Kerri said they were in Frank’s room this morning.” His brows rose. “She told me the, ah, noise was louder than her vacuum.”
Fucking and dying in the same place.
“Something else.” Hyde’s deep voice filled the entire room. “Crime scene techs found two drops of Beth Dunlap’s blood in the hallway, right outside of Frank Malone’s bedroom.”
Sam swallowed. “Quinlan was there when we pulled up. He wasn’t in his car, he was standing right beside it. He said—he said he’d just arrived.” She should have touched the hood. Should have seen if he was telling the truth.
But she’d wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that he was a man who’d survived a nightmare. She still wanted to believe that. “We need to question the first responders from the bomb squad,” she said quietly. “They would have touched Quinlan’s car.” They’d gone over every vehicle there. “They can tell us if his story is true.”
“Where is Quinlan now?” Monica asked.
“I put a detail on him,” Hyde said. “No way was I letting him just walk away.” He inclined his head toward Sam. “He’s at his brother’s place, and that’s where you’re heading, Kennedy.”
Like he could have kept her away right then.
“I want you to talk to Quinlan. I want you to get him to tell you every move he made this morning. Get him to talk about Beth. See if you can find something for me to use here.”
When Hyde gave an order, you didn’t refuse. But… “Did you find any evidence to tie Quinlan directly to Beth’s death?” Circumstantial. He’d been outside, and Sam had seen his clothes—there’d been no visible blood.
And that crime scene had been full of blood.
So either Quinlan had managed to hide his clothes and get clean, real fast, or the guy was innocent.
When Hyde’s lips compressed, she had her answer. But then he said, “You’re getting the evidence. You’ll wear a wire when you go in.”
A wire?
“You have an in with Quinlan. His brother’s not going to turn you away.”
But what would Max do if he found out that she was wearing a wire in order to trap his brother? The brother who looked dead guilty. “I’m telling Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll wear the wire, but Max has to know.” She wouldn’t budge on this point.
“You trust him?” Hyde stalked toward her. “People are dying, left and right on a case that should have been over. Are you really sure you trust Ridgeway enough to risk this case?”
She stared into his dark, glittering eyes. Hold your ground. “I do.”
He nodded. “All right. Then you tell him. But if this comes back on us…”
He didn’t need to say the rest. She knew that it wouldn’t look good on her already shaky performance record.
“Prove his innocence or prove his guilt,” Hyde said. “Get him to talk.”
“I will.” She hesitated. “But Quinlan Malone isn’t our only suspect here. I got access to Nathan Donnelley’s bank records. His savings are nearly empty.”
Luke whistled. “Money’s always a motivator.”
Even for murder.
“Where is Donnelley now?” Hyde wanted to know. “Find him and get the good doctor in here for another interview.” He clapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s get moving, people. And be ready for any damn thing.”
Donnelley knocked lightly on the bedroom door, and after a moment he heard the gruff, “Come in.”
He turned the knob and stepped inside, making sure that he had a big smile on his face. “Well, now, Quinlan…” His gaze swept the room, and he saw no one else. He shut the door behind him, and let the smile fade away. “What the hell have you done?” Because the kid was screwing with his plan.
“The bitch tried to kill Max. She did kill Jacobson.” Quinlan swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What did you think I was going to do? Let her walk away? She screwed with my plan.”
“Our plan.” Nathan Donnelley snapped, pacing quickly across the room. “Our damn plan. And she’s not the one who f**ked it up; you are.”
Quinlan’s eyes narrowed.
“Why did you kill them?” Nathan’s hands fisted. “That wasn’t the agreement. You said you were just going to hold the men, just going to make some money off them—”
Quinlan rose. “I would have, if their fathers hadn’t been dicks.” A little shrug lifted his shoulders. “I had to change my plan.”
“I gave you the drugs because you promised you wouldn’t kill those men!” It had all seemed so simple at first. Take the men. Don’t ask for too much money. Get the cash that the rich bastards would have sitting in their banks. Then get out of town.
Quinlan laughed. The boy actually laughed in his face. “You gave me the drugs,” Quinlan stalked closer and jabbed a finger into Donnelley’s chest, “because you wanted your cut of the money. And you were a hard negotiator, Don. Forty percent.” Quinlan smiled, and the sight chilled him. “Of course, I had to get rid of everybody else with you taking that much money.”
Asshole. He’ll get rid of me, too. Only a matter of time. He had to be careful with Quinlan.
But then, he’d been careful with Quinlan Malone for years, since the boy was fifteen. Donnelley hadn’t been Frank Malone’s doctor, not at first. He’d been there for Quinlan.
Because the boy had liked to hurt himself. Too much.
“Don’t worry.” Quinlan’s jabbing finger finally left his chest. “The Feds think the bitch killed herself.” His mouth hitched into a half-smile. “Another suicide.”
“How did you kill her?” That part hadn’t been on the news.
“I slit the whore’s wrists.” Quinlan turned toward the window and gazed below. “She killed for me.” His head shook a bit. “Had to admire that. If she hadn’t messed up my plans, I might’ve even let her live. Beth was always ready to do anything for me.” He tossed a glance back at Donnelley. “You know what I mean. She f**ked you quick enough when I told her to.”
Donnelley swallowed. “When do I get my money?” This whole thing was about to blow up in their faces. He wanted to be long gone before the shit hit the fan. Far away from Quinlan and the bastard’s blood-stained hands.
“I already transferred it to your account.” Quinlan stared out the window. “It’s in the Caymans, just like we agreed. You can get it anytime you want.”
Donnelley’s hands were sweating. “And what are you going to do?” Killing Frank hadn’t been part of the plan. Never the plan. Not for me.
But he wondered now… had Quinlan been planning that all along? Was the bastard that smart? Maybe. Quinlan had hated Frank, and shit, now Frank was dead, and Quinlan only had one person standing between him and the Malone fortune.
Maybe the little prick had planned it all from the beginning… or maybe Quinlan had just started to enjoy the blood too much.
“I’ve got to take care of some final business.”
“What you need to do is get out of town.” Donnelley realized his voice was threatening to rise and sucked in a deep breath. “Those Feds are going to piece this shit together. Get out while you can.” If that money really was waiting on him, he’d be running soon, too. As fast as he could go.
“Maybe they will.” A shrug. Quinlan finally turned to face him. A shark’s smile curved his lips. “Or maybe when you disappear, they’ll think you’re guilty. After all, they are going to find your se**n on those sheets. Frank’s sheets. And your fingerprints were all over his room.”
“He thought you were a damn hero.” Max glanced over and caught the narrowing of Quinlan’s eyes. “You killed a man, and he thought you were a hero. Wonder what he’d think of me?”
Max just stared at him.
“No hero.” Quinlan’s hand bunched into a fist. “So what the hell kind of man am I?”
Max tried to figure out what to say.
“Max!” He turned at Samantha’s voice. She ran toward him, her face pale. She dodged a few cops. Slipped past the line of cars.
He left Quinlan and hurried to her. Max caught Samantha’s hands and held on tight. “What is it? What happened?”
Her gaze darted behind him. He glanced back. Quinlan was there and moving slowly toward them. “I’m sorry,” she said, and the words were directed at Quinlan. “But Beth Dunlap is dead.”
Quinlan froze. “What?”
Dead? “What happened?” Max asked. He hadn’t heard any gunshots after the agents went inside.
“It appears that Beth went to your father’s room and killed herself.” Samantha paused. Her gaze was still on Quinlan. “She slit her wrists and died at the foot of his bed.”
CHAPTER Fifteen
When the knock came at his apartment door, Max hurried forward, rubbing grainy eyes. He pulled open the door and found Nathan Donnelley waiting for him.
The doctor had a small black bag in his right hand. So damn typical. “I called you an hour ago,” Max said.
Donnelley grunted as he came inside. “Do I need to remind you that I don’t work for you or your family any longer?”
“Since when? Dammit, Donnelley, you were Frank’s private doctor for years. And you just what—walked away?”
“Frank was dead.” Donnelley shrugged. “Therefore I wasn’t needed any longer.”
Max grabbed the man’s arm and dragged him over the threshold. “You’re needed now.” Max slammed the door shut behind him. “Beth’s dead.”
“I know.” Flat. “I heard the report on the news.”
Right. Hell, everyone knew. “I need you to check on Quinlan, okay? He’s too quiet. Shit, I’m worried about him.”
Donnelley’s green eyes raked him. “What is it you want me to do?”
“Check him. I don’t know; go do whatever it is that doctors do when patients are about to break down.” Helpless, yeah, that’s what Max was, and he hated it. “Just make him better.”
That cold, clinical stare pinned him. “You know as well as I do that sometimes, you can’t make people better.”
Because Donnelley had been there when Max’s mother died.
“But I’ll talk to him and see what I can do.” Donnelley brushed by him. “Which room is he in?”
“Down the hall. Second door.” Max exhaled. “Just so damn much,” he muttered. “Every day, something new. I thought this mess was over.”
“I’m sure it will be over,” Donnelly said, not glancing back. “Soon.”
A soft knock rapped on her office door. Sam glanced up, her mind still on the data that she’d retrieved, and mumbled, “Come in.”
The door opened, and Kim Daniels stood there with her eyes glinting. “I need you to come with me, Sam.”
Sam shut off the screen in front of her, automatically hiding the text. Her brow furrowed as she glanced at the clock: 8:12 p.m. “Okay, just let me finish up…” She’d hacked her way into Nathan Donnelley’s personal bank account and found out that the man had barely a thousand dollars in his savings. Since the doc drove a top-of-the-line Benz and flashed a Rolex—yeah, she’d caught sight of that watch—the lack of money set off red flags in her mind.
“Hyde needs us all in his office. The ME finished working on Dunlap, and Hyde wants to go over the report.”
Sam jumped up, and the knot of tension at the top of her spine tightened. She followed Kim down the hallway, turned a fast right, and then they were at Hyde’s office.
Luke closed the door behind her. “Thanks,” she whispered, pushing up the glasses that she’d put on earlier. She’d thought the glasses might help to ease the headache she had. No such luck.
Hyde sat on the edge of his desk. His fingers gripped a manila file. Monica Davenport was to his right. Figured. Ramirez wasn’t there. He was still out shadowing Weatherly.
“We’ve got a problem,” Hyde said, and his gaze zeroed in on her.
Her shoulders straightened. “Sir?”
“With the first slash of that glass, the veins and tendons in Beth Dunlap’s wrist were cut, and they were cut too damn deep.”
Sam could still see the blood soaking the wooden floor.
“Because Dunlap was right-handed, we must assume the initial cut was made to her left wrist,” Hyde continued, “and according to the ME, her left hand would have been all but useless within seconds.”
Sam’s breath rushed out. “But her right was cut—”
Hyde shook his head. “The ME says there’s no way Beth Dunlap could have done that on her own. And a tendon was severed there too.”
Oh, hell. Sam rocked back, and her elbow slammed into the closed door.
“Sam?” Luke’s murmur.
She shook her head. “We didn’t see anyone else in the house.”
“Because Beth Dunlap told the doctor—what was his name?” Hyde riffled through his papers. “Donnelley? According to him, she said that his services weren’t needed any longer.”
“And Quinlan told the maids not to come in,” Luke said. “He told them he wanted some space to grieve.” His lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “But during his grieving time, he was f**king Beth Dunlap. It seems Kerri Grace, one of the day maids, heard them upstairs before she was told to hit the road.”
“Upstairs?” Sam asked.
“Kerri said they were in Frank’s room this morning.” His brows rose. “She told me the, ah, noise was louder than her vacuum.”
Fucking and dying in the same place.
“Something else.” Hyde’s deep voice filled the entire room. “Crime scene techs found two drops of Beth Dunlap’s blood in the hallway, right outside of Frank Malone’s bedroom.”
Sam swallowed. “Quinlan was there when we pulled up. He wasn’t in his car, he was standing right beside it. He said—he said he’d just arrived.” She should have touched the hood. Should have seen if he was telling the truth.
But she’d wanted to believe him. Wanted to think that he was a man who’d survived a nightmare. She still wanted to believe that. “We need to question the first responders from the bomb squad,” she said quietly. “They would have touched Quinlan’s car.” They’d gone over every vehicle there. “They can tell us if his story is true.”
“Where is Quinlan now?” Monica asked.
“I put a detail on him,” Hyde said. “No way was I letting him just walk away.” He inclined his head toward Sam. “He’s at his brother’s place, and that’s where you’re heading, Kennedy.”
Like he could have kept her away right then.
“I want you to talk to Quinlan. I want you to get him to tell you every move he made this morning. Get him to talk about Beth. See if you can find something for me to use here.”
When Hyde gave an order, you didn’t refuse. But… “Did you find any evidence to tie Quinlan directly to Beth’s death?” Circumstantial. He’d been outside, and Sam had seen his clothes—there’d been no visible blood.
And that crime scene had been full of blood.
So either Quinlan had managed to hide his clothes and get clean, real fast, or the guy was innocent.
When Hyde’s lips compressed, she had her answer. But then he said, “You’re getting the evidence. You’ll wear a wire when you go in.”
A wire?
“You have an in with Quinlan. His brother’s not going to turn you away.”
But what would Max do if he found out that she was wearing a wire in order to trap his brother? The brother who looked dead guilty. “I’m telling Max.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll wear the wire, but Max has to know.” She wouldn’t budge on this point.
“You trust him?” Hyde stalked toward her. “People are dying, left and right on a case that should have been over. Are you really sure you trust Ridgeway enough to risk this case?”
She stared into his dark, glittering eyes. Hold your ground. “I do.”
He nodded. “All right. Then you tell him. But if this comes back on us…”
He didn’t need to say the rest. She knew that it wouldn’t look good on her already shaky performance record.
“Prove his innocence or prove his guilt,” Hyde said. “Get him to talk.”
“I will.” She hesitated. “But Quinlan Malone isn’t our only suspect here. I got access to Nathan Donnelley’s bank records. His savings are nearly empty.”
Luke whistled. “Money’s always a motivator.”
Even for murder.
“Where is Donnelley now?” Hyde wanted to know. “Find him and get the good doctor in here for another interview.” He clapped his hands together. “Okay, let’s get moving, people. And be ready for any damn thing.”
Donnelley knocked lightly on the bedroom door, and after a moment he heard the gruff, “Come in.”
He turned the knob and stepped inside, making sure that he had a big smile on his face. “Well, now, Quinlan…” His gaze swept the room, and he saw no one else. He shut the door behind him, and let the smile fade away. “What the hell have you done?” Because the kid was screwing with his plan.
“The bitch tried to kill Max. She did kill Jacobson.” Quinlan swung his legs over the side of the bed. “What did you think I was going to do? Let her walk away? She screwed with my plan.”
“Our plan.” Nathan Donnelley snapped, pacing quickly across the room. “Our damn plan. And she’s not the one who f**ked it up; you are.”
Quinlan’s eyes narrowed.
“Why did you kill them?” Nathan’s hands fisted. “That wasn’t the agreement. You said you were just going to hold the men, just going to make some money off them—”
Quinlan rose. “I would have, if their fathers hadn’t been dicks.” A little shrug lifted his shoulders. “I had to change my plan.”
“I gave you the drugs because you promised you wouldn’t kill those men!” It had all seemed so simple at first. Take the men. Don’t ask for too much money. Get the cash that the rich bastards would have sitting in their banks. Then get out of town.
Quinlan laughed. The boy actually laughed in his face. “You gave me the drugs,” Quinlan stalked closer and jabbed a finger into Donnelley’s chest, “because you wanted your cut of the money. And you were a hard negotiator, Don. Forty percent.” Quinlan smiled, and the sight chilled him. “Of course, I had to get rid of everybody else with you taking that much money.”
Asshole. He’ll get rid of me, too. Only a matter of time. He had to be careful with Quinlan.
But then, he’d been careful with Quinlan Malone for years, since the boy was fifteen. Donnelley hadn’t been Frank Malone’s doctor, not at first. He’d been there for Quinlan.
Because the boy had liked to hurt himself. Too much.
“Don’t worry.” Quinlan’s jabbing finger finally left his chest. “The Feds think the bitch killed herself.” His mouth hitched into a half-smile. “Another suicide.”
“How did you kill her?” That part hadn’t been on the news.
“I slit the whore’s wrists.” Quinlan turned toward the window and gazed below. “She killed for me.” His head shook a bit. “Had to admire that. If she hadn’t messed up my plans, I might’ve even let her live. Beth was always ready to do anything for me.” He tossed a glance back at Donnelley. “You know what I mean. She f**ked you quick enough when I told her to.”
Donnelley swallowed. “When do I get my money?” This whole thing was about to blow up in their faces. He wanted to be long gone before the shit hit the fan. Far away from Quinlan and the bastard’s blood-stained hands.
“I already transferred it to your account.” Quinlan stared out the window. “It’s in the Caymans, just like we agreed. You can get it anytime you want.”
Donnelley’s hands were sweating. “And what are you going to do?” Killing Frank hadn’t been part of the plan. Never the plan. Not for me.
But he wondered now… had Quinlan been planning that all along? Was the bastard that smart? Maybe. Quinlan had hated Frank, and shit, now Frank was dead, and Quinlan only had one person standing between him and the Malone fortune.
Maybe the little prick had planned it all from the beginning… or maybe Quinlan had just started to enjoy the blood too much.
“I’ve got to take care of some final business.”
“What you need to do is get out of town.” Donnelley realized his voice was threatening to rise and sucked in a deep breath. “Those Feds are going to piece this shit together. Get out while you can.” If that money really was waiting on him, he’d be running soon, too. As fast as he could go.
“Maybe they will.” A shrug. Quinlan finally turned to face him. A shark’s smile curved his lips. “Or maybe when you disappear, they’ll think you’re guilty. After all, they are going to find your se**n on those sheets. Frank’s sheets. And your fingerprints were all over his room.”
