Page 9 of His Forgotten Colton Fiancee
Finn didn’t even blink. “Oh?”
“She must be found and brought in for questioning. If she’s innocent, she’s innocent. But if she’s guilty...” Again with the hand gesture. “Then the killings,and this kind of violence will end.”
Was the guy running for office? West snorted as a newspaper photographer snapped Harrington’s photo. He could envision the headline now: Billionaire Lawyer Offers Six Figures of Own Money for Capture of Suspect Demi Colton.
He hated it when civilians messed with an official investigation. Offering that much money for Demi’s capture would send everyoneeager for the reward out searching, giving the department more headaches and more false leads to chase.
And make a desperate Demi harder to catch. Hell, half the town would be searching for her now, eager to claim even a share of the reward.
West knew he had to question Quinn further on her sister. If Quinn even had a remote inkling of where Demi was, he had to know immediately.
“I’dlike to see the official ad you’re running in the newspaper,” Finn told him, giving him a level look. “For the record.”
“I’m very busy this afternoon.” Harrington took out his cell phone, texted something. “But I’ll send an Uber to drop off the notice at the station.”
Sending an Uber to deliver a damn paper? Typical Harrington. You can’t take five minutes to stop by on your way? No, that’stoo much trouble.
West knew some attorneys back East, hardworking, congenial men and women who dedicated themselves to the law and society. Harrington was not one. He did it for the money.
Harrington flashed those pearly whites at everyone and glad-handed the officers sitting at the table.
“Thank you for all you are doing to catch the Groom Killer. If you need anything, anything atall, my office is at your disposal. We all want Demi Colton caught so life can return to normal. My father will be most grateful when Demi is found and arrested and weddings can resume in Red Ridge. He’s most eager to marry Layla.”
He spotted West sitting by his lonesome, walked over and stuck out a palm. “Agent Brand, so glad to see the FBI is working with our fine force. We certainly canuse your services.”
Giving him a cool glance, West nodded and ignored the hand. He picked up his fork and continued eating. Harrington’s smile only got wider.
“Have a good day,” the lawyer told him.
He strode off toward his car. West caught Quinn’s worried gaze. If she was concerned about her sister before, she must be worried sick now. West made a small gesture at Harrington’s carspeeding off, then did an eye roll. She flashed a brief smile.
West ate quickly, tossed away the plate and plastic silverware, and then returned to the crime scene. The sooner he finished, the faster they could find who did this, and clues to where the bomber would strike next.
Whether or not it was Demi Colton.
* * *
Two hours later, Quinn unloaded all the catering dishes andbrought them inside to her store, placing them on the counter near the sink. With a rueful smile, she noticed her hands were trembling.
West did that to her. Even being within one hundred feet of him set off her female parts. They tingled with anticipation, and her nerves jumped as if the annual Fourth of July fireworks exploded inside her.
Her smile fled as she recalled the extensivedamage to the building, and the sneers of her father as he swigged back a bottle of beer and watched the cops work the scene.
Rusty had a habit of making the worst things worse. He liked his beer and criticizing other people and bragged about both.
Like her brothers and Demi, Quinn worked hard to overcome the reputation of being offspring of the town’s notorious bar owner and womanizer.It was why she elected to serve wholesome food at Good Eats, to differentiate from the greasy bar food her father dished out.
She picked up the mail the carrier had dropped through the slot in her front door. As she walked to the counter, Quinn sorted through the stack. Bills. More bills. And a white card-size envelope that resembled an invitation. The envelope had a cute red heart stampedon it.
A wedding invitation?
Maybe an engagement announcement? Who would be crazy enough for that?
Taking the mail into the kitchen, she found a knife and went to open it. Hesitated. It looked innocent. Pretty stationery. What if it wasn’t?
There was no return address. Quinn felt the envelope. She had never been the suspicious type, but dating West turned on all her precautionsensors. No return address could mean something dangerous inside, intended to harm.
Quinn studied the postmark. Red Ridge. From here in town. What if the Groom Killer had decided to reach out to new targets?
