Page 11 of Cohesion

Quinn couldn’t fight that, or argue against it. “Don’t keep things from me.”

Riley nodded. “Don’t compromise this case.”

Quinn didn’t have to dignify that with a response as the interrogation room door opened, shifting their focus.

Jack Sweeney moved through first, then Greer. A third man in a sleek black suit followed them in, closing the door behind himself. Had to be Sweeney’s lawyer.

Greer waited for Sweeney to get comfortable before he dropped his manilla folder on the table and then kicked out his own chair, sinking surprisingly gracefully into it. His pose was relaxed, back slouched and legs spread wide, slacks tight against his thighs. His tie was crooked, a corner of his shirt untucked, with the bottom two buttons undone. The watch on his right wrist looked twenty years old, with a crack on the glass. To anyone who didn’t know him, the look was casual and completely non-threatening. A sloppy cop.

Greer didn’tdorelaxed, and he was always impeccably put together. He was an asshole, used his position of power to getaway with too much, and the little time he spent in the precinct was used to piss as many of them off as humanly possible. If they were suddenly in apurgeexperiment, Grady would go for him first, even before he went for Sebastian.

“You know, if we wanted to sabotage our case, we could have done it ourselves,” Grady muttered.

Quinn smiled into his coffee.

“I don’t keep anyone on my team who can’t do their job,” Riley said. “I don’t expect them to have sparkling personalities, oryouwouldn’t be here, Grady.”

Quinn snickered, and Grady elbowed him. He rubbed the spot absently as Greer spoke for the first time.

“You’re a long way from home, Jack—can I call you Jack?” Greer didn’t wait for Sweeney to respond before continuing. “You’ve been a busy guy, Jack. You drove here to avoid airport security and only made three stops between here and Melbourne, paying in cash because you thought we wouldn’t find out. Checked into a hotel under an assumed name. And then on your third night here, you killed George Brice before setting fire to a building with a police suspect inside, among other people.” Something very much like real, raw anger flashed in Greer’s eyes before it was gone.

“Where the hell is he getting this information?” Grady asked. “Half of that isn’t in the case files.”

Quinn had no idea. He had every intention of looking over the entire thing when he got out of there. He wanted to know everything that Greer had been doing, what he’d found out. Andhow. Then he would visit Jericho and connect any dots he had that didn’t yet line up.

Sweeney stayed quiet. They’d held him for longer than twenty-four hours, so he’d been formally charged. They had to have spoken to him already.

“Why is he being questioned again?” Quinn asked curiously.

“We have some follow-up questions,” Riley replied.

“We?”

“Are you just going to question me the entire time, or do you plan on watching? You know where the door is.”

“I’m going,” Grady said. “I have a phone call to make. Keep me posted?”

Quinn nodded, not looking away from the interrogation taking place.

“The only thing I love about this is that Greer is gonna have to deal with the smarmy lawyer that kept dodging us,” Grady said, snickering. “Let’s see how he goes whenhisappointment keeps getting changed.”

“Maybe the next case you get given will be his when he gets locked up for murder,” Quinn suggested.

Grady snorted, and then he was gone.

“I know so much about you now, Jack, that I’d almost call us friends,” Greer said. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re a murderer and, y’know, human scum.”

“Insults, detective?” the lawyer asked mildly.

Even after the insulting words, Greer was still all smiles. Quinn had never seen a man smile so convincingly in his life. If he didn’t know Greer, know that his temperament was constantly switched to bear with a thorn in his paw, he would have believed that Greer was friendly. He’d picked the wrong career, clearly. It should have been acting.

Greer flipped open his folder. “Your dad left you when you were five, and your mum is… let’s call her a woman of the night.” Greer glanced up. “No need to be crude, is there?” He turned the loose page over. “Have you heard the saying, ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree’?” No answer. “No? Allow me to explain. It’s when a child inheri—”

“I know what it means,” Sweeney bit out.

“Do you? A shame. I like explaining.” Greer picked up a photo and turned it around. “This photo doesn’t look old. If I had to guess, you and your mother… four years ago? Give or take a year or two. Are you a religious man, Jack?”

Sweeney twitched but didn’t respond.

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