Proof of Life Page 2

  Sweet little Anna didn’t seem to be the type to bash Brady in the head, but her on-again, off-again relationship with his little brother was enough to keep her on the suspect list.

  They didn’t have the official report confirming the time of death, but the coroner at the scene had estimated it to be somewhere between five and seven in the morning.

  His phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. He frowned. The number wasn’t one he recognized, but he answered it anyway. “Murphy.”

  “Officer Murphy, this is Shanna Dawson. I’m sorry to call you so late, but the crime scene took much longer than normal to process.”

  “I’m not surprised.” He could easily believe that going through the party mess had taken several long hours. He glanced at his watch and realized it wasn’t as late as it felt—just eight-thirty.

  “If you’re still available, I’d love to talk to you. But if you’d rather wait until tomorrow, I’d certainly understand.”

  He pursed his lips, thinking fast. The polite thing to do would be to wait until morning. Shanna had to be as exhausted as he was. But he also knew he wouldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest until he’d done everything possible to find Brady’s killer.

  “Tonight is fine.” He didn’t want to let her off the hook, and there was always the chance she’d give him some details on what they’d found. “Where would you like to meet?”

  There was a slight pause before she responded, “I’ll meet you at Karly’s Kitchen on Dublin Street.”

  “Sounds good. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  He actually made it in fifteen, but Shanna must live even closer because he found her already seated at a booth, nursing a cup of coffee. He slid in across from her, glancing up as the waitress approached. “I’ll have some coffee, too, thanks.”

  Shanna’s face was pale and drawn, as if she’d taken Brady’s death as personally as he had. With her wavy dark hair, alabaster skin and wide blue eyes, she reminded him more of a kindergarten teacher than a CSI. Maybe it was the air of innocence clinging to her. He’d thought most law-enforcement types became hardened by the brutal evidence of violence, but Shanna’s personality didn’t seem to have that distinctive hard edge.

  She summoned a smile. “How are you?” she surprised him by asking. “Is your family doing all right?”

  Amazed that she cared enough to ask, he sat back in his seat. She couldn’t know he wasn’t really a part of the family, not in the way she’d meant. His mother had pretty much abandoned him when she’d divorced his father, but over the years he’d made an effort to mend the rift between them, especially once his father died. No matter what, though, he was still an outsider. His mother had found a new life with her second husband, James Wallace, and his half-siblings, Brady and Ivy, were the joys of her life.

  And now Brady was dead.

  He’d given his mother the news, taking the brunt of her anger and frustration as she railed at him. Knowing that she would have preferred if he was the one who’d died instead of Brady was difficult to ignore.

  “I—my mother is taking Brady’s death pretty hard, as you can imagine.” He tried to soften his gruff tone. He didn’t hold a grudge against Brady, even though the kid had been offered every opportunity possible to succeed in life. More than Quinn had been given, that’s for sure. But Brady was basically a good kid.

  As Quinn had gotten older, he’d understood how his very presence reminded his mother of her dismal marriage to his father. A fact that was indirectly his fault, since she’d only married his father because she’d gotten pregnant with him.

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Shanna surprised him again by reaching across the table to touch the back of his hand in a simple gesture meant to offer comfort. “I’ll do everything possible to find Brady’s murderer.”

  “I know.” He was impressed by her staunch dedication. And her empathy. Shanna looked young, barely twenty, although he figured with her training and experience she must be at least in her mid-to-late twenties. She was beautiful, her long wavy hair framing a heart-shaped face. The flicker of awareness annoyed him; he was here to help solve Brady’s murder, nothing more. “Thanks.”

  She began the drill, asking about his half brother’s life, going over all of Brady’s friends and roommates. He gave her everything he knew, which wasn’t all that much, since Brady had resented having his older half brother as a campus cop. Brady had kept his distance from Quinn as much as possible. Especially after Quinn had been the one to bust one of Brady’s parties a month earlier.

  If he’d known about this party last night, he would have busted it, too. And then maybe his brother would still be alive.

  Just another reason to feel guilty. Although it wasn’t like he was sitting around doing nothing. He’d been investigating a potential sexual assault on a young female student instead.

  He pulled his mind to the matter at hand. He told Shanna everything he knew, although it wasn’t anything different from what he’d told the detective. Still, working with Shanna as they reviewed the list of kids who’d attended the party made him feel as if he were part of the investigation instead of an innocent bystander.

  At ten o’clock, she yawned so wide her jaw popped, and he realized he’d selfishly kept her up long enough. “It’s late—we’d better go.”

  She nodded, signaling the waitress to bring their bill. He knew she intended to pay, but he took the bill from the waitress anyway. “My treat.”

  Shanna frowned. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Please, I want to.” She couldn’t know how much he’d needed to talk to her tonight, to be involved at least this much in the investigation. Besides, he couldn’t get into the idea of allowing a woman to pay. Call it old-fashioned, but he didn’t care. He stood, waiting for her to precede him out of the diner.

  Outside, there were only a few other cars in the postage stamp-size parking lot. His SUV was on the far left end, but she turned toward the right, where a red Toyota Camry was parked next to a row of bushes.

  “Thanks, Quinn,” she said, formally shaking his hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Sure.” Her hand felt small and fragile in his and he released it reluctantly. He followed, intent on making sure she got safely into her car. She only took a few steps though, before suddenly stopping.

  She whirled around, coming back toward him. She grabbed his arm in a tight grip. “Do you see him?” she asked in a low, urgent tone. “Do you see the man standing next to my car?”

  “Man?” He peered over her shoulder, not seeing any sign of a person, male or otherwise. Had her exhausted mind played tricks on her? “Relax, it’s okay. I don’t see anyone.”

  “Are you saying I imagined him?” The sharp edge to her tone made him lift a curious brow.

  “No, I believe you. But I don’t see him now. Maybe he disappeared behind those bushes.”

  Abruptly, she let go of his arm, swinging back to stare at her car. “He’s gone. I can’t believe I didn’t get a better look at him.”

  Her tone was fierce and brave, but he noticed the slight trembling of her hands. He didn’t blame her for being scared; there was no acceptable reason for a man to loiter around a woman’s car at ten o’clock at night. Even if she had imagined the guy, he figured she was entitled after such a long day. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “I’m fine.” She started toward her car with a firm stride, but didn’t protest when he caught up to her.

  A small white card with her name printed on the outside was stuck beneath the wiper blade on the driver’s side. Obviously, her mystery man wasn’t her imagination after all.

  She gasped in shock and stopped short, staring at the evidence.

  “Don’t touch anything,” he ordered. “We need to call the police, see if we can get some fingerprints off this.”

  “Don’t bother.” Her tone was matter of fact.

  “What do you mean, don’t bother?” What sort of CSI expert w
as she? “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve gotten several others just like it, and he hasn’t left any prints yet.”

  TWO

  Quinn wasn’t happy when Shanna insisted on driving home, but he followed right behind her as they went the couple of blocks to her house. She lived in a nice, if older, suburb of Chicago, where the houses were small and the lots even smaller, yet well-groomed. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, anxious to get to the bottom of this.

  The brief glimpse of fear in Shanna’s eyes tugged at him. He’d seen the same haunted expression in the young freshman’s eyes last night, after the attack. His stomach squeezed. He didn’t like the possibility of Shanna suffering a similar experience. Thankfully, the mystery man had only left a note and hadn’t touched her.

  Some people felt that campus police officers weren’t the real deal, hiding from the true crime that stalked the city streets. He’d done his stint as a city cop for over six years. Now he preferred to proactively protect the younger, innocent college kids rather than taking criminals off the street, knowing there was always another cop eager to take his place.

  He pulled into Shanna’s driveway right behind her, and hurried out of his car to stop her from going inside. “Stay back. I want to check things out first.”

  She pushed his hand away. “I’m a trained law-enforcement officer,” she protested.

  “Yeah, but I’m armed.” And he’d noticed she wasn’t, at least not at the restaurant. She had carried a gun while she was investigating the crime scene as all CSIs were required to do. But knowing she was a trained officer didn’t matter. For some reason, this woman raised his protective instincts to full alert.

  She stared at him for a long minute and then took a step back, allowing him to take the lead. While she hovered behind him, he took the key from her fingers and ventured inside. The layout was a simple ranch design; the side door entered into the kitchen. The front door opened into the living room, and then there was a short hallway leading to the bedrooms.

  The light over the kitchen sink was burning bright so he swept his gaze over the room, listening intently. His gut told him the place was empty, but he went through each room anyway, just to make sure.

  When he finished, he headed back to the kitchen. Three notes were sitting in the center of the table. He leaned over, read them and then looked up at her askance. “Have you called the police about these threats?”

  She winced and shook her head, her arms wrapped around her torso as if she were cold. “Not yet. I was going to, though. That last one came today. I mean, yesterday.” She frowned. “Actually, I don’t exactly know what day it came, because I sometimes forget to pick up the mail.”

  “So you received a note and still drove out to meet me tonight?” His fingers curled into helpless fists at her foolishness. “Are you crazy?”

  Her shrug was nonchalant. “Working on Brady’s case helped keep my mind off my problems.”

  A stalker wasn’t just any old problem. He was tempted to snap at her, but realized Shanna was a trained law-enforcement agent, just like he was. She could take care of herself.

  So why did he want to do that for her?

  Because he was tempted to pull her into the shelter of his arms in a gesture of comfort, he forced himself to stay where he was, keeping a safe distance between them.

  “Do you have any idea who’s sending these?” he asked in a low tone. “A jilted boyfriend? Someone at work that you refused to go out with?”

  She made a strangled sound. “No. I haven’t been seeing anyone, no ex-boyfriends. No one’s been bothering me. My personal life is dull and uneventful. To be honest, I’ve already concluded the notes have to be related to one of my cases.”

  He shouldn’t have been relieved to know there wasn’t a man in her life, just as he shouldn’t have noticed how vulnerable she’d looked when she’d admitted the boring details of her past. Why was such a pretty woman leading a dull and uneventful life? Her personal life was none of his business, but he wanted to know just the same. He kept his voice firm. “You need to call the police.”

  “You’re the police,” she joked weakly.

  “Shanna.” He moved closer, lifting his hand to brush her hair away from her cheek. “You know I don’t have jurisdiction here. You need to call this in, before this guy gets too close.”

  For a moment she simply stared at him with something forlorn in her gaze, but then she pulled back and straightened her shoulders. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him get to me.”

  He wanted to believe her. But that hint of vulnerability made him hesitate. Maybe because he was a pushover for a woman in distress. Yet she seemed just as determined to stand alone. A part of him admired her independence while another part of him was annoyed at her stubborn foolishness.

  “Are you going to call the police?” he asked for the third time.

  “Not right now. It’s late. I’ll wait until the morning. This isn’t an emergency and there isn’t anything they’re going to be able to do about the notes tonight. Especially since I can’t even give them a reasonable description of the suspect.”

  He knew she was right, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to leave. He glanced around her small living room. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

  “I’ll be fine.” The underlying steel in her tone finally convinced him.

  “Okay, but do me a favor.” He held her gaze, imploring her to listen to reason. “Close and lock every window.”

  She grimaced and nodded. “I like having the cool fresh air from outside coming through the windows, but I’ll manage without for tonight,” she reluctantly agreed.

  He waited until she’d gone through every room, closing and locking the windows. Standing in the kitchen, his gaze continued to linger on the notes.

  Who could have sent them? And why? Someone who liked to play games, obviously. Mind games. The thought caused a sick feeling to settle in his gut.

  “All set?” he asked when she came back toward him.

  “Yes. Thanks for following me home.”

  “You’re welcome.” He forced himself to walk toward the side door. “You have my cell-phone number. Promise you’ll call if you need anything.”

  She smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

  He told himself she was right. She would be fine. Outside he paused and listened, satisfied to hear the dead bolt click into place. He headed toward his car, glancing back to look at her house. She’d shut off most of the lights, except maybe the one in her bedroom, which he couldn’t see from the street.

  He slid behind the wheel and backed out of her driveway, intent on going home when he saw a car moving slowly down the street. Too slowly. Heart thudding in his chest, he pulled over to the side of the road, holding his breath as he waited. The car passed him by, turning into a driveway several houses down. The garage door opened, and the car disappeared inside.

  “Idiot,” he muttered to himself. He was exhausted, had been up for over forty hours straight, but he couldn’t just go home.

  Shutting off the car, he pulled the key out of the ignition and leaned his seat as far back as it could go. He cracked the windows so he could hear better, knowing he was going to spend the night here, watching over Shanna, despite her refusal to accept his help.

  He was too tired to drive anyway.

  Slouched in his car, he stared at Shanna’s dark house, wondering about her. Why was she so alone when she lived in a nice neighborhood that seemed like the perfect place to raise a family? The pain shadowing her eyes hadn’t all been from the notes, he was certain. Yet as much as he wanted to protect her, she seemed just as determined to brush off his help.

  Rubbing his eyes, he briefly wished for peace rather than being haunted by the demons in his past. His dad had been a city cop for years. Hunting drug runners, witnessing armed robberies and murders, had taken its toll. His dad had turned to booze, ignoring the abuse he’d inflicted on his body until one day Quinn had come home t
o find his dad crumpled on the bathroom floor, lying in a pool of blood.

  He’d called 911 but had already known it was too late. According to the coroner, his dad had been throwing up blood from some burst blood vessel in his esophagus, and had literally choked on it before he’d died.

  The memory haunted him ever since.

  Quinn had always avoided alcohol, but then he went a step further, giving up the stress of being a city cop to join the university campus police force. His mother had wanted him to get out of law enforcement altogether, claiming his dad’s job had ruined their marriage, but he couldn’t do it.

  There was a part of him that needed to know he made a difference in the world, no matter how small and insignificant it may be.

  His attraction to Shanna, though, forced him to remember all the reasons he veered away from relationships. He wasn’t a safe bet, and not just because of his family history of alcoholism. He knew from firsthand experience that women wanted a man who came home every night. Men who weren’t in danger. Men who didn’t obsess over their work. Even as a campus cop, he’d been drawn on by gang members with guns more times than he could count. Most recently by two idiots who decided to rob the corner coffee shop.

  Leslie had left him, just like his mother had left his father. Proving he was better off alone.

  With a sigh, he let his head fall back against the seat rest, unable to prevent himself from closing his eyes. He’d stay here outside Shanna’s place, making sure she called the police to report her stalker first thing in the morning. Once he was satisfied she’d taken steps to assure her safety, he’d go back to working Brady’s murder investigation where he’d left off.