Sloe Ride (32 page)

Kane’d pulled Rafe into a conversation that’d obviously been started way before the doctor descended from the mount to tell them Brigid was going to be okay. An alcove served as a de facto war room, a cluster of folding chairs appropriated from the waiting area giving them a place to sit as they plotted. Riley sat in one, his long feet tapping out a rhythm so off beat Rafe was a second away from bashing his head in when a look from his partner stopped him. Kel Sanchez joined them a second later, handing out cups of bad coffee turned milky by watered-down creamer, much like the cups Rafe’d tossed before he’d been dragged over.

“Con and Sionn going to keep the Sinners boys busy?” Browne grunted at Kane’s nod. “Nosy pieces of shit. Don’t want them in this.”

“Hey, I’m one of those boys now,” Rafe protested, sniffing at the coffee. It smelled as bad the second time as it had the first. “’Course I just stuck my nose in this shit.”

“
You
don’t count. You’re scared of me. Those other two—the Addams Family twins—those two would be in our shit just because they think they should be.” Browne pointed at one of the chairs. “Sit. All of you. Riley, you take notes.”

“Quit your bitching,” Kane cut Riley off before he uttered a word from his opened mouth. “You’re the junior here.”

“And apparently I don’t count.” Rafe shrugged off Riley’s middle finger when it pointed his way. “Shit, they let just anyone into the SFPD now.”

“Settle down. Rafe, you’re here because I need to have you keep an eye on some things, and sadly, you’re my best bet in this mess.” Browne took one of the coffees, slurping at its rim like it didn’t taste like cat piss colored with a handful of powdered shit. “As of right now, the two of you—Morgans—are answering to me. Captain Book’s just agreed to let you ride shotgun on this. Kane, Sanchez is going to take lead on anything you’re assigned. As far as any of your reports go, he’s primary. If there’s any reason you feel the need to do something, you’re to run it by Sanchez first. He’s to make the call.”

“At least on paper,” Sanchez interjected. “Brownie and Lieutenant Casey don’t think you two are going to go all Wallace on someone, but let’s face it, some asshole just shot your mother. Department’s probably a hair away from asking you guys to step back and take a breather.”

“Not something I want to do,” Kane growled at his partner. Riley nodded, his face stern and set in a frown.

It was interesting seeing Kane pull on his full cop face. It was all business with the second Morgan son, and the fourth as well. Riley’s build ran more to Quinn’s, slightly leaner than his beefy oldest brothers, but Donal’d left his stamp. Both men sat forward on their seats, focused intently on the other men sitting at the table, and it was clear to all, they had one thing on their minds—taking out whomever put their mother under a knife.

And who probably wasn’t done fucking with Quinn’s life.

“One question, why am I here? Yeah, keeping my eye on things… what things?” Rafe raised his hand, pulling the older inspector’s attention away from the case files he’d begin laying out on a triangular table someone’d pulled over for them to use. “Not a cop. And I don’t know enough about who Quinn’s got in his life now to say shit about who to trust.”

“That’s
why
I want you here. Kane said you don’t know anyone in Quinn’s circle but Quinn, and apparently….” Rafe couldn’t read the look Browne exchanged with Kane, but they’d definitely come to some sort of agreement between them. “Well, since Quinn’s… with you, I want you to watch out for anyone who approaches him.”

“And don’t let him outside.” Riley tapped Rafe’s knee with his pen. “Ever.”

“I’ll try.” Rafe held up his hands at the cops’ rumbling threats. “What do you expect me to do? Tie him to the bed? I can talk ’til I’m blue in the face, but once he gets something in his head, not a lot can be done to get him to change his mind.”

“That’s the fucking Morgan family motto. Never listen to reason.” The older inspector nodded at the two brothers sitting across of him. “Just do your best. And if you have to, call in reinforcements. I think we need to keep Quinn in lockdown until we can flush this asshole out.”

“’Cause you think someone’s after him?” Rafe processed what Kane’d told him before. “And that puts a target on me?”

“Or just trying to get his attention. Shitty way to ask for a date but classic stalker slash controlling partner. Eliminate everyone close to the victim so they turn towards the abuser.” Kane’s chair ground on the hospital floor as he inched it closer to the table. “Problem is, how long before this guy turns on Quinn? Hell, today might have been that day, and it was just bad fucking luck Mum got hit instead.”

“Bad luck for him,” Browne commented. “No one wearing a badge is going to let this die. You don’t shoot a cop’s wife and get away with it. Might as well have shot your dad through the heart when that asshole pulled the trigger. Hell’s going to look like a vacation spot when he gets taken down. Right now let’s take a look at what we’ve got so we can plug any holes.”

“So far we’ve got two murders and a shooting. Simon K, killed off-site and dumped. We haven’t found the kill site yet. LeAnne W, killed on-site and displayed, arranged, even.” Sanchez ticked a count off his fingers.

“Two different MOs.” The younger Morgan stopped his scribbling. “Or are we counting it as escalation?”

“I’m going with escalation because the dump site got too busy for him. Uniforms canvassed the area, but no one saw anything. I want to go back there and see if any of the early-morning kitchen workers will respond to a memory jog,” Kane suggested. “Long way from Chinatown to the college. Alleyway suggests the dump site was convenient. I’m not convinced he’s local to that area.”

“Yeah, anyone who lives in Chinatown knows that place is hopping at three or so in the morning.” Sanchez found an overhead map of the area and circled the spot again for reference. “Not really accessible on both ends. One badly timed garbage truck, and he’d have been stuck.”

“Could be he’s just gotten a taste of killing with Simon. Then when he got to LeAnne, it became fun,” Browne added. “There’s the truck incident, which might or might not be connected—”

“I’m going to say yes.” Kane shrugged off the skeptical looks he got from his partner and Brownie. “Look, I think it was the first big hey-look-at-me this guy did.”

“Then he followed up with the house. Big display there. So yeah, he wants performance but didn’t get it with Simon,” Riley added. “Question I’ve got there is, why didn’t he move in on Quinn then? After the house? Q said no one approached him.”

“What do you mean?” Rafe frowned, watching the circle of cops nod in agreement to Riley’s speculation.

“Because that’s when someone’d move in close and offer Quinn protection. A place to stay.” Kane grinned at Rafe, his eyes merry with mischief. “Kind of like you did at the house that Sunday.”

“So I’m not a suspect?” He matched Kane’s smirk with one of his own. “Fuck you, Morgan.”

“You’re not smart enough to be a suspect, Andrade,” Kane replied. “’Sides, you’re as Catholic as I am. You’d slit your wrists from guilt if you’d shot Mum. And well, you
did
go hide behind Da when Quinn was on the warpath.”

“Dude, he was going to pop your heads off of your necks and suck out the marrow from your bones,” Rafe protested. “I’m kind of fond of you and Con. I mean, yeah, Donal lets you guys battle it all out until you get your shit together, but right then and there, you were marked for fucking death, and Quinn was going to be the one swinging the axe.”

“Should have let him kill them. I’d move up in rank quicker.” Riley popped his head up. “At home too.”

“Like Kiki couldn’t take you down,” Kane shot back. “But yeah, the truck and the house—so a part of this.”

“Let’s take apart Quinn’s life. You guys have talked to him, what… twice about who’s around him?” Browne scanned a list, and from what Rafe could see, the paper didn’t have many names on it. “Kid’s got students… associates. We’re going to have to expand the circle to include people he sees on a day-to-day basis. Start poking around into backgrounds. Find out where he goes often, that kind of thing.”

“He’s got a coffee shop he likes. Whyborne’s. It’s about a block down from my place,” Rafe suggested. “They know him there. Like, making his drink as soon as he comes in the door kind of know.”

“Something to look at. You go there with him?” Sanchez agreed, and Riley jotted it down. Rafe nodded, and Kel cocked his head. “Anyone stand out?”

“Not really. Kind of flourish, not pretentious, more like… elegant grunge. Didn’t look like the kind of crowd who’d shoot a woman across the street from them.” He shuffled through the impressions he’d gotten from the coffee shop’s staff. “More like they’d slip you ground-up flour in your chai latte if you pissed them off and were gluten free.”

“No one’s off the list until we’ve got alibis.” Browne did more page flipping, frowning as he skimmed his notes. “Kane, you and Sanchez start on this list of knowns. Riley and I’ll take the outer circles, hit up the college staff to see if anyone’s got something going for your brother. One thing Kane’s right about. Whoever this asshole is, he’s going to get pissed off that Quinn’s not noticing him. His next hit
might
be Quinn.”

“If we call the shot today for Rafe, that kind of confirms our suspect’s targeting people Quinn’s been involved with or has some sexual history with,” Sanchez echoed what Kane’d said in the hall. “We don’t have the luxury of hoping the shooter won’t try again.”

“Wait, back that up,” Riley grumbled. “Simon… yeah. But Walker? LeAnne? That doesn’t make sense.”

“The Walker girl was known for being friendly,” Sanchez supplied. “Problem was for her, Q doesn’t swing that way. Hell, he didn’t even notice. She made a play for him, and it bounced… bounced hard.”

“Who told you that? Who noticed Walker being friendly?” the older inspector asked, shuffling through his papers.

“Graham.” Kane scratched at his chin. “Graham Merris. He’s a teacher at the college. Don’t think he’s in Quinn’s department, but they share similar interests. Da said he saw Quinn and Graham at some thing. Shit, there was a flat tire. Da found Quinn changing it one night—the same night he and Merris were out.”

“Merris have any record handling guns?” Browne pinned Kane down with a look hard enough it made Rafe shiver.

“Don’t know. Wasn’t looking at him.” The older Morgan made a disgusted sound in his throat. “Fucking should have looked at him. He just didn’t seem… hefty enough to do the damage.”

“Never underestimate crazy. I have a couple of ex-girlfriends that looked all petite and delicate, then hulked out when you didn’t compliment their shoes,” Sanchez reminded them. “Okay. Kane, how about you and I go pay Professor Merris a visit. Rafe, if you know what’s good for you… keep Quinn off the streets. We’ve already had one Morgan too many taking a bullet this week.”

Garage Studio, Miki’s warehouse

Damie: You ever think about what it would have been like if we’d started Sinners with Forest and Rafe?

Miki: Nope.

D: Not even a little bit?

M, shaking his head: The world happens because it happens. I miss Johnny and Dave, but after them came Kane… and then you again. Just like if something happens to me, I’d expect you to keep going… keep playing music.

D: Without you, Sinjun… there
is
no music.

R
AFE
WOKE
to the sounds of splashing. He blinked, trying to adjust to the dark, but the blackout curtains across his bedroom’s windowed walls were too good at their job, and he couldn’t see a damned thing. The length of a warm body next to him was familiar, intimately familiar and welcome.

The splashing sounds grew furious, and Rafe was about to slide out of the bed when he remembered Quinn’d come with a dash of demonic fur.

Harley.

Rafe hit the ground running. He didn’t know what he’d imagined the cat’d gotten into, but whatever his stress-frazzled brain sparked off against his skull, Rafe wasn’t quite prepared to find Quinn’s fuzz-assed cat sitting tail down in the bidet, playing with the spritz of water coming up from the bottom of the bowl.

Shit,
he
wasn’t even too sure how to work the damned thing, but there was Quinn’s cat, a smile on her triangular gargoyle face and playing patty-cake with a tiny geyser.

There wasn’t enough of a stream to get the floor wet, and when Rafe stuck his fingers into the water, it ran cold against his skin. Harley eyed him suspiciously, her paws paddling furiously. Shrugging, Rafe headed back to bed, leaving the light on so the cat could see what she was doing.

“What’s the matter?” Quinn mumbled when Rafe snuggled up against his back.

“Your cat’s in there playing with the bidet.” Quinn smelled good, vanilla soap and male skin, and Rafe nuzzled his face into Quinn’s hair, breathing him in. “Took me like five days to figure out how it worked, and the cat seems to have aced it on her first try. Gotta admit, the two of you really make me look stupid.”