Page 50 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
Marriage made in hell.
You’ll never commit.
Was Tia marrying someone, and that’s why she’d been killed?
“I don’tknow.” The earlier frustration had returned, leaving her wanting to bang her head against the counter. Maybe that would make everything better.
She wanted to be alone. “Valeria, I’m quite tired and this is my first day home.”
Her cousin gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “All right. But only if you promise to come to our family barbecue this Sunday.”
Family gathering? With all thosepeople staring at her, wondering about her? What if the person who did this hid among them?
Wiping her hands on a dish towel, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. I’m still recovering.”
“It’s six days away. You’ll feel better by then!”
“Doubt it. I’m not ready.”
“Please come,” Valeria begged. “It’s not going to be a huge party. Just family, and your cousins will be there. Andme. Please, Quinn. I’d love to see you there.”
How could she resist such youthful enthusiasm? A small family gathering didn’t sound intimidating. How many Coltons could there be in this town, anyway?
“What can I bring?”
Valeria hooked her arm through Quinn’s. “You and a date. Or...whoever you wish to bring.”
With a wink, she bounded off.
After setting the cake pans into theoven, she returned upstairs, unlocking the door.
In the bathroom, the mirror showed bruises and cuts. She did look like a wreck. Quinn found her makeup. She smeared it on until everything, including her freckles, vanished.
A shiver raced through her. She hardly recognized herself.
Who am I?
* * *
Hard work never intimidated West. Neither did cases, because he could turn offhis emotions like a water spigot.
Today it had taken all his control to resort to that tactic. Thoughts of Quinn kept pushing through his mind as he analyzed evidence, went over interview notes with interviewees from the most recent bombing, as well as the first one.
Returning to the crime scene to scrutinize it for additional evidence had been pure hell. He could barely get the thoughtof Quinn, her face bloodied, her body lying so still, out of his mind so he could sift through the rubble once more.
He’d spent an hour interviewing possible witnesses. Broad daylight and no one saw anything. Nothing but Quinn walking down the street, marching toward Tia’s office with the casserole.
Marching toward her possible death.
As he filed his report, his cell rang. West checkedthe number. Cal Flinders from the ATF.
“What do you have for me?” West asked. “We got the lab results from the powder residue. TATP. What do you know about the bomb itself?”
“Matched the one found at the abandoned hardware store. No signature. Ran the pattern through the database. Nothing came up. Whoever did this wasn’t making a statement that he disliked Realtors. Or was protesting development.”Cal’s voice droned over the phone.
West frowned. Most bombers had signatures, putting certain elements into their work. The typical bomber was male, a loner and involved in criminal activity. They fell into specific categories, such as the terrorist, whose aim was to invoke fear into the general populace. Or a protestor, blowing up a building that opposed his beliefs, such as a real estateoffice.
“Unless this unsub is new at the game.” West leaned back.
