Knock Me Off My Feet (25 page)
Chapter 11
September
14
Dear Homey Helen:
I've known people who've used compulsive neatness as a
substitute
for human connection, for human feelings. My theory is these people keep the mind and hands occupied so the heart doesn't break.
I think you've seen this behavior: Clean, clean, clean. Control, control, control. Do, do, do—all to stay so busy that you don't have time to look around and realize you've wasted your entire life.
And realty,
what is the point of a spotless house or an orderly desk if your life is in shambles?
—Your most loyal fan
PS: I really enjoy the new "Pet Corner" on your Web site. It's helpful
and
entertaining!
Quinn thought it possible that he was hallucinating. After all, he'd been thinking of nothing but Audie all morning—as he raced home at seven to shower and change his clothes, then while in the shower, then on the drive into the station, and each second he'd been sitting here trying to pretend he was the same Stacey Quinn who sat at this desk on Friday.
But he wasn't. Because this morning he was Autumn Adams's lover, and the desk sergeant had just escorted her into the detectives' room, and he felt like he did every time he'd ever had the privilege to watch Frank Thomas hit one over
the
400-foot center field wall at
Stanny-O was up on his feet. "Audie!" He pulled up a chair for her. "Did you recover from yesterday?"
Her eyes flew wide and she stared desperately at Quinn.
"Good morning, Audie," he said evenly. "I think Stan was asking if you liked the party."
"Oh, crap. Hell." She collapsed in the chair and produced a weak smile for Stanny-O. "Yes. I had a great time. You?"
"Always do. Want some coffee, Audie?" Detective Oleskiewicz winked at Quinn as he started toward the coffee island. "You sure look like you could use a cup or two
…
or five."
He winked at Quinn again.
"I'd love some!" she called after him.
Quinn tried not to smile too much. He tried not to stare at the short tan linen skirt and matching blouse she was wearing.
He
tried not to reach out and touch her hair or the smooth skin of her thigh just above her kneecap. He tried not to carry her bodily to the supply closet and take her up against the wall next to the copier toner.
"Good morning, Homey," he said softly. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his fingers behind his head. "So you missed me, huh? It's been"—he quickly checked his watch—"three hours and forty-six minutes since I left your place."
It seemed Audie was trying her best not to smile at him, too, and Quinn watched her bite down on her bottom lip and slowly flutter those thick black lashes of hers. He nearly fell over backward in his chair.
Damn, she was something else. Quinn had not exactly led a monastic lifestyle, but sex with Audie had been a mind-blowing experience. And there she sat this morning, trying not to smile or look him in the eye, and his heart was so full it was sore.
What had happened between them last night—all last night—had been intense. Fun. Wild. And extremely important.
So of course he wasn't the same man who'd sat at this desk on Friday, because today he was the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet.
Unfortunately, he also was risking the wrath of his commander and needed to find a way he could stay on Audie's case and still come clean with Connelly. Exactly how he'd manage that remained to be seen. He'd worry about it later. Because just then, Audie decided she'd smile at him.
"Here you are, Audie." Stanny-O placed her coffee on the edge of Quinn's desk and reached into his top right-hand drawer. "To what do we owe this lovely visit? Care for a mint?"
"Oh. Sure. Just a sec." Audie shook her head as if she were shaking loose her thoughts and started rooting around in her shoulder bag. She took out handfuls of hair clips, receipts, trash, crumpled cigarettes, and a balled-up pair of panty hose before she found what she was looking for.
"Here it is. Another one. It was in this morning's mail."
She tossed the envelope on Quinn's desk and shoveled all the junk back in her bag. Then she reached for a Frango Mint and popped it in her mouth.
Quinn picked off a few flecks of tobacco from the letter before he unfolded it and read it without comment. Then he handed it to Stanny-O.
"Jeesh," Stanny-O said. "I've gotta tell you, these letters are really starting to piss me off. I mean, what is this?" He held up the note. "Who's he talking about?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not me," Audie said, shrugging and letting her eyes catch Quinn's. "But it might be my mother."
"Tell me why you say that," Quinn immediately asked.
"Well, because that's how my mother was. My dad used to call her a human doing, not a human being. She got very pissed off at that."
Quinn nodded and leaned toward her. "Audie. Stanny-O and I need to talk with you about your case, and I need you to keep an open mind, all right?"
She ran a nervous hand through her hair and shrugged. "Sure. What?"
Quinn watched Stanny-O place the latest letter in a manila envelope and fill out an Illinois State Police crime lab form. Then he turned back to Audie and saw her smile turn to a frown.
"We
need your help," he said softly. "We need to know what's in your gut about these letters, Audie."
She blinked at him and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.
"Whose voice is that right there?" Quinn pointed to the big envelope Stanny-O now held in his hands. "When you close your eyes and hear those words
…
who do you picture saying them? Who talks like that, Audie?"
She sat perfectly still, but her eyes were wild and going back and forth from Stanny-O to Quinn. She shook her head.
"You can tell me, lassie."
She slammed her eyes shut and let her shoulders sag. After last night, she would tell this man anything.
"I go back and forth with this every day and I still can't figure it out," she whispered, returning her gaze to Quinn. "Sometimes I think I hear Drew. I wish to God I didn't. But some letters—like this one—sound just like him when
he
gets started on something. But then I tell myself Tim Burke is probably doing this, not Drew, but the letters just don't sound like Tim! None of them do!"
Audie frowned and shook her head. "I honestly don't know what to tell you."
Quinn reached for both of her hands and she grabbed on. The simple touch made his pulse race. "Unfortunately, we don't always know people as well as we think we do. Stanny and I see it all the time in this job." He stroked his fingers over the smooth top of her hand.
"Fine," she said. "Then let's just say
it
is
Tim Burke, because I hate myself for even thinking it might be Drew, you know?" She shook her head, miserable. "Drew is my brother."
"And you told me yourself that you're strangers to each other," Quinn said, holding her gaze. "We're going to have to talk with him again. And I need to ask you about something else."
"OK."
"Can you think of any reason why Drew would want to hurt your mother?"
"What?!" Audie ripped her hands from Quinn's and stood up. "Are you trying to tell me—" She lowered her voice to a whisper and caught Stanny-O's
eye.
"Are you guys telling me you think Drew killed our
mother?"
"Look. Sit down a minute, all right?" Quinn pulled her chair closer to him and she sat, her bare knees touching his chinos. "There are basically two ways we can look at this, OK? One way is that these letters and your mother's death are somehow connected. Thinking of it that way, it could be either Drew or Timmy."
"But—"
"The other way is to see these incidents separately. Your mother was just a random mugging victim. Your letters are just the sick game of someone who's angry with you. In that scenario, it's more likely Timmy."
"All right."
"But either way, it seems we're right back with the same two suspects, so Stan and I were just talking about getting surveillance on both of them, just to be sure. We'll have eyeballs on them and eyeballs on you—and we'll catch 'em."
Audie looked confused and tired.
"I didn't mean to dump all this on you right now." Quinn's voice was so soft it was almost a whisper. "But what you said about this latest letter may help us. Thanks for bringing it in. Are you all right, sweet Audie?"
She nodded gently.
"Let me walk you to your car." Quinn helped her up, placed his palm flat against the small of her back, and led her out the front door as Stanny-O stared in silence, fascinated.
When they reached the Porsche, Quinn opened the door for her, but she didn't get inside. Instead, she turned toward him, so close that the tips of her breasts brushed against the front of his shirt.
"Hi, Detective." One corner of her plump mouth crooked up in a smile, causing Quinn's heart to shudder, because he now knew exactly what she felt like naked beneath him.
"Hi, Miss Adams." He took a quick look around the parking lot, then leaned into her for a kiss. With his lips against hers, he asked, "Have you recovered from yesterday?"
She chuckled and pulled back from him. "I'll never recover. Besides, some of it was today anyway. This morning, if you'll recall."
"Mmmm. I do recall." His mouth was back on hers and she felt his arms go around her waist.
"Quinn?"
"Yes?" His warm, soft lips had moved to the side of her neck, the base of her throat, and his fingers were at the top button of her blouse.
"Not here. Are you busy right now? Can you get away?"
His head jerked back and she watched him blink. "Are you asking me what I think you are?"
"Yes. I'm completely depraved."
"Jaysus, that's good to hear." Quinn shot her a crooked grin and let his eyes scan down below her face. "Look what I've done to you, Audie." He buttoned her blouse and ran his hands nervously through his hair. "Don't get me wrong—I'm glad you're depraved. But yes, I am busy right now. I'm also nearly brain-dead with lust for you, but I've got to get back to work."
She nodded.
"Wait. Where the hell is Rick Tinley and why isn't he with you?"
"He
is
here," Audie said, moving her eyes over her right shoulder. "He's in the police car right over there, waiting for me."
"Oh, great."
She watched Quinn acknowledge Tinley with a brusque wave before he sighed deeply. "Well, woman, we've just gone from rumor and innuendo right into the testimony of a credible eyewitness." He gave her a sheepish grin. "You going to be OK with people knowing you're hanging around with a South Side Irish cop?"
She fought back the urge to throw her arms around his neck and scream like a ninny. "I'll survive the shame somehow," she said with a wry smile. "But what about you? Is it all right if people know you're chasing some North Shore Protestant Cubs fan?"
He chuckled deep and low and ran his finger down the side of her face. "You're right. Let's deny everything."
Quinn's green eyes glowed in the morning light, and Audie heard herself sigh with contentment. Talk of murder, stalking, and betrayal notwithstanding, she didn't think she'd ever been as happy as she was right at that instant, with her heart in chaos and her vision filled with nothing but Stacey Quinn.
"What's your schedule today?"
Audie shrugged. "The usual. I've got a National Public Radio spot at