Page 52 of Little Shattered Dreams

Kelly’s sister, Rebecca, wagged a finger at me, adding, “Yourfamily and friends and Quinn’s own daughter aren’t here. Explain why it’s okay for them to leave, but we should stay.”

“Good question,” I said. “Everyone who left did so with permission from Chief Foley. He’s been keeping in touch with all of them and is following up with Quinn’s daughter as we speak.”

I scanned the crowd, sensing the ever-escalating tension in the room. It wouldn’t be long before others joined in.

I wanted to tell them about the note that had been left on my door, about the assault on my mother, about the killer who was still out there—not just lurking but sitting here atthismoment, inthisroom. But sharing those details would send them running.

Maybe they should flee.

Maybe I was wrong for wanting to keep them here.

Maybe by keeping them here, I was putting them all in danger.

But didn’t believe that.

I believed Quinn’s death was personal and premeditated.

And I believed she was the sole target.

I also believed I’d been receiving threats because I was still here, looking around in places the killer didn’t want me to be. By now, he or she knew my intentions. And if there was one thing I was sure of, it was this: the killer was within reach, and I needed to bring him, or her, to justice.

CHAPTER27

The meeting ended with Grace taking Kelly into the next room where they could speak in private. A few minutes later, they returned, and Kelly didn’t utter another word.

Prior to the meeting, I’d spoken to Karl. We’d decided as soon as I finished talking to everyone, he’d lead them in a group session—employees and guests alike. If there was one thing I needed more than anything right now, it was to keep people close, where I could see them, observe them, eliminating them one by one until I had my killer.

Foley hadn’t arrived yet, so I decided I’d get going on my own questioning. Hunter had suggested I start with Margie, but the person foremost on my mind was Clara. I’d start with her. Ever since she’d found me in Quinn’s room the night of the murder, she’d been avoiding me.

According to Grace, Clara often took a thirty-minute break at this hour. I was told most days she spent her break taking walks along the path where my mother had been attacked the night before.

Sure enough, Clara was right where Grace told me she’d be.

She heard me coming and turned toward me, huffing an irritated, “What do you want?”

“You ditched out on Karl’s group session.”

“So.”

“Why did you leave?”

“I don’t like doing group stuff. You going to tell me what you want, or what?”

“I want to talk to you,” I said.

“You know what seems funny to me? The one person who was in the room after Quinn died wasyou, and yet here you are, questioning us. Who’s questioning you?”

If it was blunt, honest conversation she was looking for, I was ready to play ball. “Go ahead, question me. Do you think I had something to do with Quinn’s death?”

“I did. I don’t now. Maybe I’m wrong. Who knows?”

“What changed your mind?”

She took a seat on one of several benches dotting the tree-lined path.

I joined her.

“I overheard your mother talking about you yesterday morning, about your detective business and all the murderers you’ve caught over the years. She also said something about your dad and about how he was a detective too before he died. I mean, just because you have a detective agency doesn’t mean you’re not capable of killing someone, but I’m guessing you haven’t.”

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