Page 103 of Paternal Instincts
“Do you have the iPad with you?” A pause.
I deduced he was speaking to Jordyn.
“Can you check something for me? Where did Flynn say his buddy lived? The one he was staying with.”
Alert to Quaid’s conversation, Benedict slid to the edge of the couch, not hiding the fact he was eavesdropping.
The confirmation when it came made Quaid curse. Our gazes clashed.
To Jordyn, he said, “Our culprit is Flynn, not Jude. He slipped out from under Costa’s nose when he claimed he was waiting for food. He’s not here. I don’t know why or how, but he must have heard about Clementine. She’s got to be involved somehow. Send officers to his friend’s place in Flemingdon, but you and Costa drive to his house in Pickering. I have a feeling that’s where Crowley is and where Nixon is headed. If Imogen told her husband she had an affair with his brother, Nixon could be a loose cannon.”
Quaid disconnected the call, but instead of confronting me or explaining anything, he pointed his finger at Benedict and used a tone I only ever heard in interview rooms when Quaid was well and truly pissed off with a suspect. “Sit the fuck down and talk.”
Benedict’s ass—that had been halfway off the couch—hit the cushion. His aged eyes widened at the snapped order, but he didn’t argue.
No longer engaged in whatever she’d been doing on her phone, Odelia watched the interaction with what seemed eager curiosity.
“Get Diane in here.” Not realizing my husband was talking to me, too caught up in the information dump and unexpected waves of pleasure rippling through me—he was hot when he was mad—I didn’t move until he whipped his head around. “Az, Diane. Please.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Who else?”
“Oh.” I licked my lips and cleared my throat along with every inappropriate thought from my mind, but goddamn. Quaid in bad cop mode was my undoing, and he knew it. “On it.”
In the hallway, I was again greeted by Ronald and Bess, who seemed to be hovering outside Imogen’s room, waiting for word. As far as I understood, Diane had taken her place at her daughter’s side when Nixon took off.
To Ronald, I said, “Give your wife a break. We need to talk to her. Your grandson’s life depends on it.” I had no clue if that was true since Quaid wasn’t forthcoming with his theory, but it sounded like a decent enough threat and worked like a charm.
A few minutes later, Diane emerged from Imogen’s room, her expression a blend of weary and pissed off. “My daughter needs me.”
“Then perhaps you’ll decide to cooperate so you can get back to her as quickly as possible.”
She crossed her arms, taking a haughty stance, but I ignored the waves of ire and motioned for her to follow me into the waiting room. The tension had elevated in the short time I’d been gone. Quaid stood over Benedict, who wore a similar expression to Diane’s.
“Have a seat.” Quaid motioned to the sofa, but Diane sat on the edge of a small table instead, far from Benedict.
Quaid watched the pair, a snarl lifting the edge of his lip. The expression went beyond the parameters ofthe face. “I’m going to paint a picture, and you’re going to tell me if I’m right or wrong. If I’m wrong, you’re going to correct me and provide all the missing pieces. If you don’t, I will drag you downtown and throw you both in an interview room until you’re ready to talk, and I don’t give a fuck if your daughter or daughter-in-law is in labor. Understand?”
Diane stared at a spot on the wall, face pinched, eyes concrete slabs. Benedict glared at Quaid as though he thought himself intimidating. Quaid was not in the mood and stared at the man as he continued. “Your poor relationship with Flynn is somehow connected to an affair he’s been having with Imogen. Yes or no.”
Benedict’s lips tightened, but he didn’t respond.
“Yes or no,” Quaid repeated, tone sharper.
“What does this have to do with Crowley?” the man spat.
“Answer the question. Yes or no.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Diane said.
Quaid turned to her. “You knew about it.”
“Yes. It was a long time ago, and—”
“Stop it,” Benedict barked.
Diane shut her mouth, but Quaid didn’t. “Why are you listening to him? I asked you a question.”
