Page 49 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

“How could you have known?”

“With more than twenty years in the department, you’d think I’d know better than to let some punk blindside me.” I run my hand over my jaw, ignoring how the oversight physically pains me. “Did you recognize him?”

“Never seen him before today. Just figured he was with one of the groups of uptown punks who keep coming in recently.” Worry creases Claude’s brow. “What do we do now?”

“I can put out a missing person’s report, but she’s only been gone a few minutes.”

“Then put it out she’s wanted in connection to a murder investigation.”

“And run the risk of the murderer catching wind of it? Hell no.” I run the options through my head, but none of them are remotely realistic. “I’ll have to go after her.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“Start with the obvious and then go down the list.”

“I’ll come with you.”

I shake my head. “You wait here for her...if she comes back.”

“Don’t sound so fucking optimistic.” Claude skulks toward the door. “She’ll be back.”

Before I can round on my brother, he’s gone. I grab my suit jacket and take one last look around the apartment. There’s nothing in this room to tell me where she is. I need to look for her. Time’s ticking, and I’m not about to waste it on an optimistic hunch she might come back on her own.

I put a call into the department to issue an APB for the fucker who locked me in the office. That will at least give me a direction. If she’s alive, she’s with him. And if she’s not with him, he’ll know exactly where to find her.

Once that’s done, I’m out the door. The minute my feet hit the pavement, I pull the notepad out of my jacket pocket. Inside is the address to the apartment Quinn shared with two roommates. It’s not a great lead, but it’s all I have to work with.

It’s fully dark by the time I reach the small apartment building in East Harlem. A lovely old woman on the front step confirms the two roommates are home. I slip in the door behind her and make my way up the dark staircase.

I reach up to straighten my tie, but my hands meet nothing. I must have forgotten to put it back on after Quinn removed it. Shaking the steamy reminder from my brain, I knock on the door.

My body tenses at the sound of footsteps, a muttered curse, and the satisfying click of the deadbolt and tinkle of the chain sliding across the latch.

A pretty blonde answers the door. “Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m Detective Richards. I’m looking for Quinn Murphy. Does she live here?”

“Did he say he’s looking for Quinn?” a voice echoes behind her.

The blonde pushes open the door, and another young woman approaches. Her black hair and complementary eye shadow give her a sullen look that appears out of place with her bright orange top and denim skirt.

“I am. Have you heard from her?”

“I’m Beth,” she says with a smirk and gestures to the blonde. “This is Nancy. We haven’t heard from Quinn since last week. She left for work but never came home.”

“Is she in trouble?” Nancy’s gaze drops to the floor before her soft blue eyes meet mine. “She was working at the mansion where that banker got murdered, but she never came home. I’m worried something happened to her.”

“No, she’s not in trouble.” I bite down the frustration rising at the need to keep her two friends in the dark, but I don’t want to overplay the importance of Quinn’s role in the events of that night. “But I do need to speak with her.”

“A detective came asking questions, and we told him the same thing we’re telling you.” Beth folds her arms across her chest. “The cops haven’t found her yet?”

“Not yet, but we’re following some leads.” My teeth ache from forcing a polite smile. I pull a card from my pocket and hand it to them. “If you hear from Quinn, or know where she might be, please give me a call.”

“We will.” Nancy takes the card, but Beth snatches it from her hand.

“Her stepbrother’s friends have been snooping around. Asking all kinds of questions.” She tucks the card into her back pocket. “Been creepy as hell, them hanging out on the front stoop, waiting for her to come home. It’s freaking out Mrs. Martinez, but the cops won’t do anything.”

Her stepbrother. She hadn’t mentioned much about her family, except the stepbrother who got her into trouble as a teen.

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