Page 68 of Dirty Daria
“No.”
“You don’t wonder if there’s something more you could have done?”
“No.”
“You aren’t thinking that if only we hadn’t brought him in for questioning, he’d still be alive.”
“Nope.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “I stand corrected.”
He brushes past me to get in the truck, shoulder checking me as he goes.
Not feeling responsible, my ass.
31
Quinn
I’m always wired after leaving the bar. Even though we closed at eleven tonight, which is early since weekends we close at two a.m., I still feel awake and exhausted at the same time. I think it has something to do with all the walking around. The activity, which probably leaves most people tired, amps me up. So, it takes me a couple of hours to wind down once I’m home.
My favorite way being ice cream andProject Runway. I snuggle into my couch and press play on the remote, quickly absorbed by thepreviously onclips. I ignore it the first time I think I hear someone on my front steps. The trees blowing in the wind play tricks on me all the time as the branches move against my apartment and the garage below me.
But the second time I think it’s happened I also hear knocking. Like, someone-is-at-the-door kind of knocking. Since very few people know where I live, I’m guessing it’s one of the owners that I rent from. They live in the main house on the property, this is their garage apartment, and sometimes they pop in to tell me something they think I need to know. Though usually never this late at night.
I set the ice cream on the coffee table and hit pause on the remote. Heidi Klum’s face freezes with her mouth open and eyes closed confirming that even the most breathtaking super model in the world can be caught off guard.
“Ha! Take that, Heidi Klum,” I say to the television. “I can see now that youarea mere mortal, and not a queen of goddesses as you’d have us believe.”
I swing open my front door, not looking to see who it is first. Which, as I’m pulling the door open, I realize is a really stupid thing to do.
A broad chest meets my gaze. As I look up, Reed’s face smirks down at me, his forearms balanced against the top of my door frame, making his chest pop as he leans inward, in what can only be described as a beautiful sight.
“Hi,” I say, surprised to see him.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I step back and motion for him to enter, shutting the door after him.
“Did you hear what happened?”
“What happened? No, what?”
“They killed David.” His voice hitches slightly as he tells me.
“Oh god. Oh no. Oh, Reed, I’m sorry.” I pull him toward me and into a hug. “What happened? Who’s they?” I ask into his chest. He smells like a blend of deodorant, sweat, and alcohol. Whiskey, maybe?
“It’s got to be the guys he’s working with. They shot him in the head and then cut his tongue out.”
My thoughts go to Daria at once, but then I remember she was at the bar all night with me. And given everything I now know, I can’t imagine she would have let any of the other girls handle it without her. I’ll have to ask her if they ever cut anyone’s tongue out though, that seems like a new thing.
“I don’t know what to do,” Reed mumbles to the top of my head.
“What do you mean?” I take a step back so I can look at him when we’re talking. “Like with the investigation? Or because he’s your friend—”
“Was my friend,” he interrupts. “The minute he admitted all this, he stopped being my friend.”
I nod and lead him over to my couch, pushing him down to the cushions and then taking a seat beside him. I take his hand in mine and angle my body toward him in hopes he’ll keep talking.
