Page 60 of She Gives Love a Bad Name

My mission hasn’t changed. Protect her. Catch the killer. Solve the case. Simple.

But it’s been over a week, and I still have no leads. Taking her to the scene of the crime is risky, especially during the day when we could easily be spotted. The possibility of her reliving those traumatic events is a gamble. But it’s one we need to take if I want answers.

All I can do is pray it unlocks something inside her mind. Something that gives us direction. Anything is better than nothing. I’m grasping at straws here, and I’ll be damned if this murder gets lumped in with the rest of the cold cases sitting on my desk. If there’s anything here, we’ll unravel it. I’m certain.

By the time we reach Riverside Drive, my body is humming with anticipation. At least the place will be empty. The Madison family has gone to their home in the Hamptons while the police sort through the details of the case. Our department did a full investigation of the property and found no leads.

When we reach the back door, I unlock it with the key Mickey gave me. Quinn stares at it, her eyes glassy, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You okay?” I ask, noting the pale flush on her cheeks.

“Yeah. I’m good.”

“Sure you want to do this?” I stand between her and the door, offering a chance to back out. She doesn’t need to do this if she isn’t ready.

Those bewitching green eyes meet mine. “I’m positive. Let’s do this.”

I push open the door and lift the police tape for her to pass underneath.

Quinn runs her hand over the doorframe and pauses in the entryway. She presses her hand to her stomach and takes a deep, shuddering breath.

“Tell me if you need a break.” I rest my hand on her arm.

“Got it.” Her hand clenches into a fist, then releases.

“Walk me through what happened.”

Step by step, she leads me through the events of that night. From where it began all the way to where he chased her out the front door and into the street.

Seeing her walk through the process leaves me shaken. Fury surges through me at the thought of how close she came to dying that night.

Then she leads me to the master suite.

“I stood here, like this.” She assumes a position plastered against the wall outside the bedroom. “I could hear them...the old man shouting. Then I heard him fall to the ground. The scrape of his feet on the hardwood floor. His gasping breaths as he struggled to breathe.” Quinn pinches her eyes closed and takes a few measured moments to compose herself.

“You looked into the room?”

“Yes. I saw him standing over the old man, wiping the blood off the knife.” She gulps. “So much blood.”

“How big was the blade?”

She holds her hands about a foot apart.

I write it down in my notebook and step inside the room. The blood has been cleaned off the floor, but there’s still spatter on the baseboards and wallpaper. My gaze skims the room. Nothing out of place or disturbed. The family confirmed nothing was taken from the home.

There must be something I’m missing, a piece I haven’t factored into the puzzle, but what is it? How does it fit?

“What are you doing here?” A young man appears in the doorway, his hand resting on the pistol on his hip.

“Whoa there, son. I’m Detective Richards, the lead investigator on the case. I just came back to double-check some things.” I open my wallet to reveal my badge.

The man visibly relaxes. “I understand, sir. Would you mind coming with me for a moment? I have something for you downstairs.”

“Sure.” I turn to Quinn. “You gonna be all right by yourself for a moment?”

Quinn spins away from the window and nods. “I’ll be fine.”

I follow the young guard down the stairs and into the kitchen. It seems the family retreated to the country quickly and kept the security firm on duty to watch over the estate while the police finished their investigation. Not that I blame them—leaving the house empty could prove disastrous with so many expensive items.

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