Quinn came to life, fire spilling from her eyes. “Are 348

J.T. Ellison

you out of your mind? Do you actually think I’m going to march upstairs and give you anything that might implicate my husband in a crime? You get a warrant, Mr. Baldwin. I won’t help you frame my husband for something he didn’t do.”

Taylor stepped in. “Quinn, you and I both know that the best thing you could do would be to let us take some things to the lab, to rule Jake out as a suspect. It would make everyone’s life easier if you’d just cooperate with us now. Think about it, Quinn. There have been seven girls murdered. An eighth is missing. Your husband has dropped off the grid. Your sister died trying to warn you that you were in danger. It all fits. Help us now. Help us help him.”

Quinn shook her head, a sob escaping from her throat. “Absolutely not. No. Now, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.” She stood, arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes were strangely bright, tears of frustration trying to break free glistening in the corners. Baldwin and Taylor stood, as well. As they walked into the hallway, they heard soft mewing sounds coming from behind the door. Quinn noticed the noise, too, and stalked into the marble-floored hallway. Gabrielle, her Italian student-cum-nanny, head in her hands, was weeping softly. Quinn softened for a moment.

“Gabrielle, it’s all right. Everything will be okay. Sarà tutto il di destra, cara. Non si preoccupi. ”

Gabrielle raised her head and glared at Quinn.

“Non, it ees not going to be all right. You have no idea. None. There ees no way Signor Buckley has done these things. I know.” She began crying harder and a torrent of Italian flowed from her mouth. “Sto facendo All the Pretty Girls

349

l’amore con il Signor Buckley per parecchi mesi. Siamo nell’amore. Non significo danno a voi. È il mio amante. È il vostro difetto, Signora Buckley. Non è di destra voi non lo ama come.”

Gabrielle stood straighter, and Taylor recognized immediately the stance. A woman in love. Not like Quinn Buckley, resigned but proud. This young girl was madly in love with her employer, and had seen fit to let her employer’s wife know it.

Taylor looked at Quinn. She seemed to have shrunk three inches, her arms wrapped even tighter around her slim frame.

“Quinn, what did she just say?” Taylor asked, a note of concern in her voice. Woman to woman. That might be the trick.

Quinn was still in a visual standoff with her young nanny. She finally took a breath and began to speak, her eyes never leaving Gabrielle.

“She says that she and Jake are having an affair. That they are in love. That it’s my fault, that I don’t love him enough. Is that about right, Gabrielle? I don’t love my husband enough, so you felt the need to step in and love him for me? Get out of my house, voi poco squaldrina. VOI SORCA! ”

Gabrielle’s eyes widened, and Taylor realized Quinn must have called her some sort of terrible name in Italian. The girl cried out, whipped her long hair about her body and ran from the room.

Quinn collapsed in a heap on an antique chair that didn’t look like it could hold her weight. She looked so small, so fragile, that Taylor couldn’t resist reaching out, giving Quinn what she hoped was a comforting 350

J.T. Ellison

touch on the shoulder. Quinn stiffened. Taylor removed her hand.

“I’m sorry, Quinn. Sorry that things have to be like this for you. Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?” Taylor’s voice was low, coaxing, as if Quinn were a startled cat she was trying to get out from under a couch. Quinn didn’t move for a moment, then sighed heavily. All the fight went out of her.

“Let’s go back in the library. I’ll help you any way that I can.”

The three filed back into the library. Taylor and Baldwin resumed their positions on the couch, watching Quinn wander around the room. They didn’t interrupt when she finally started to speak.

“Jake and I have been having problems for some time now. It’s been a couple of years, actually. We had a fight, a horrible, terrible fight on a Sunday evening two months ago. Jake was getting ready for another business trip—you know he travels constantly for his job. I wanted him to stay home, to pick me over Health Partners just once. That’s when he admitted he’d been cheating on me. He’d taken up with some intern that he’d met, a marketing company he works with. The affair was brief, only a couple of days, but it was like he’d decided then and there that he didn’t want to be with me anymore. I didn’t know what to do. What woman is ever prepared to go through the realization that her husband doesn’t love her anymore? I did the only thing I knew to do. I had separation papers drawn up. I showed them to him last Monday night. That’s why I wasn’t answering the phone when Whitney called. I was telling my husband that he can kiss me, his kids, All the Pretty Girls

351

his house and my money goodbye. He stormed out of here, and I haven’t seen him since.”

Baldwin tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch.

“He was having an affair with an intern? Do you know if this was here in town or out on the road?”

“I’d like to think Jake had the common sense to keep his philandering at a distance.” She stopped for a moment, thinking. “Of course, I was wrong about that. Gabrielle and Whitney, right under my nose. My God, I am such a bloody idiot!”

“Of course you aren’t. These things happen,” he comforted. “I’m sorry to have to put you through this, Mrs. Buckley. But the affair, the intern. Do you know…?”

“I believe it was New Orleans, during Mardi Gras, something like that.”

“Did he mention a name?”

“Oh, it was something French. Started with a J.”

“Jeanette Lernier?” Baldwin asked.

Quinn waved a hand. “It could have been. I didn’t stick around to hear all the gory details.” She paused, processing. “Wait a minute. You knew her name off the top of your head. You already knew he’d been with her. How did you—I don’t want to know.” She stopped talking, defeated, a hand over her eyes. Baldwin’s and Taylor’s eyes met. Quinn needed to know. Baldwin took a deep breath. “Jeanette Lernier was the second victim of the Southern Strangler.”

Quinn’s hand dropped and her eyes flew open. Comprehension dawned at last.

“Jesus,” she muttered.

They were running out of time. Taylor cleared her 352

J.T. Ellison

throat. “Jake hasn’t called home this week? No word from him at all?”

“No, Lieutenant, not a peep.” She laughed shrilly.

“Maybe I didn’t handle things well. I should have told him the truth from day one, when we first met.”

Baldwin spoke softly. “Tell the truth about what, Mrs. Buckley?”

She glanced at him for a moment, cool, appraising, then turned away. “The truth about what happened to Whitney and me when we were children. About what a farce our lives were. You remember,” she accused Taylor. “You probably know the whole story already, being a cop.”

All three of them jumped when Taylor’s phone rang. She was tempted to let it ring but knew she had to answer. “I’m so sorry. Please, let me just take this call. I don’t know the whole story, Quinn. Police reports and court transcripts only tell half of it. I’d like to hear your side. Excuse me for a moment.”

She glanced at the caller ID. It was Fitz. She picked up the phone and stepped out of the room. “Jackson here.” As he spoke, she couldn’t believe what she heard. Hanging up, she went back into the library. Baldwin and Quinn were quiet, subdued. Taylor took a deep breath before she spoke. This news was going to tear a rift through Quinn’s life so large that it would most likely be irreparable.

“Quinn, please. I have some news about Jake.”