subtle, alight, Brand. Subtle as a locomotive.
Quinn picked up the brush he’d set down and began to toy with it. “Funny you should mention it. A few years ago, when I met her for lunch, I brought her a gift like that. I saw them in a store in Sioux Falls and bought two.”
West’s heart skipped a beat. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his Dockers.
“Does she still have it?”
She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at him in the mirror. “Why are you asking about the compact? And Demi? Does this have to do with her disappearance?”
West knew he had to tread lightly. Offer information, but no details. “Maybe. It could be a clue to where she went.”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t in the habit of checking her purse.” Quinn’s voice was sharp.
He pressed on, because he suspected the gold compact now was definitely a sign that Demi had been in the abandoned building. Maybe she’d dropped it while mixing the chemicals to blow up the place, cover her tracks before she went to her next destination.
“What does your compact look like? Was it like hers?”
Her full mouth flattened. “West, why all these questions?”
He squatted down by the table and took her hand into his, brushing a kiss against her knuckles. “We need to find her, Quinn. But I promise you this, when we find her, I will let you know.”
She blinked rapidly, moisture filling her lovely brown eyes. “I wish we had been closer. I really do. I’m so worried about her.”
He held her tight, stroking her back in circles. West hated seeing her this upset. Hated that he was the one making her cry, because he had to ask all these questions. It was his job, and he had no choice.
Not that he could tell her that.
“What does your compact look like? If it’s like hers, I might be able to track her down.” He wiped away a stray tear. “Don’t tell your brothers. This is something I’m working on my own.”
“To find Demi?”
At his nod, she swiped a hand over her eyes. He didn’t like the frown denting her brows, and the suspicious look she gave him. “Not because she’s my sister and you know how worried I am about her. Because she’s a suspect.”
He blew out a breath. “She is a suspect, Quinn. The sooner we can find, and question her...”
“The sooner you can arrest her.”
West clenched his hands. “The sooner she’ll be safe. Now, will you help me?”
Quinn bit her lower lip. “All right. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, as long as it will help Demi.”
“Is your gold compact like hers?”
“Not exactly.” She frowned, and toyed with the brush again. “Actually, now I remember. Hers wasn’t gold. It was silver, with her initials on it. And round. I got a round one for her to engrave her initials on it.”
Damn.
“Mine was heart shaped.”
West went still. A chill raced down his spine. “What exactly does it look like?”
His heart dropped to his already-churning stomach at her next words.
“It’s gold. With a butterfly emblem on the front.”
How the hell had his fiancée’s compact ended up in a blown-up building? Quinn acted as surprised as everyone else to learn about the explosion. And worried, too. Could she possibly have been in the building—helping her sister set up explosives? Come on.
He couldn’t risk sharing details with the RRPD just yet. The following morning, he drove east to meet with his supervisor. Special Agent in Charge Mikayla “Mike” Ryan ran the satellite office near Sioux Falls. She had worked with him in the field for the three years since West had moved to South Dakota.
Before meeting Quinn, he’d had the itch to move again.
The diner where he’d chosen to meet Mike was off the main grid, a small, but clean greasy spoon between Sioux Falls and Red Ridge. With her mousy brown hair, glasses, petite and trim figure clad in a blue pantsuit, Mike looked more like an accountant than a woman who knew how to take down bad guys. She was already there in a quiet back booth by the large picture window, sipping coffee and digging into a big plate of fried eggs and crispy bacon. His nostrils twitched with appreciation. Since dating Quinn, he hadn’t eaten anything “unhealthy,” but his taste buds sure did remember those days.
West slid into the booth across from her.
Mike glanced up from her forkful of eggs. “You look like hell, West.”
“Nice to see you, too.”
Beneath the table, he handed off the brown paper bag containing the bagged evidence of the gold compact, along with a plastic bag with a few strands of Quinn’s hair taken from her brush last night. Mike tucked it into the tote bag sitting on the seat beside her.
He signaled for the waitress and ordered black coffee. Stomach too tense to even try food, he watched his boss eat as if it were her last meal. Mike amused the hell out of him. How she stayed so thin while eating artery-hardening grease was a mystery. She was sometimes too sarcastic and loud, but a hell of a good field agent and manager.
West sipped his coffee and waited. Mike wasn’t the type to rush headfirst into conversation. She liked to give the agents a chance to collect their thoughts, assess the situation.
And then hammer them. He’d already filled her in on the explosion and the investigation.
“Anything on the RRPD?” she asked, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.
Same question she asked yesterday. Mike was like a dog, worrying the same topic to death.
“Nothing so far.” West stared out the window of the diner. “I can’t get a bead on the Coltons. They’re good at their jobs, and keep to themselves.”
“Like you.” Mike stirred more cream into her coffee. “Anything else I should know?”
Guilt flickered through him. Yeah, I’m engaged and in love with the sister of the suspect. But you don’t need to nose around my personal life.
He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I need you to run the evidence for DNA and match against the hair sample I’ve provided.”
Mike didn’t even blink. “Victim of the blast?” She leaned forward, her green eyes sharp behind the glasses. “Or personal acquaintance, of the female variety?”
West cringed inside. “What makes you say that?”
“You
