“He’s got a coffee shop he likes. Whyborne’s. It’s about a block down from my place,” Rafe suggested. “They know him there. Like, making his drink as soon as he comes in the door kind of know.”
“Something to look at. You go there with him?” Sanchez agreed, and Riley jotted it down. Rafe nodded, and Kel cocked his head. “Anyone stand out?”
“Not really. Kind of flourish, not pretentious, more like… elegant grunge. Didn’t look like the kind of crowd who’d shoot a woman across the street from them.” He shuffled through the impressions he’d gotten from the coffee shop’s staff. “More like they’d slip you ground-up flour in your chai latte if you pissed them off and were gluten free.”
“No one’s off the list until we’ve got alibis.” Browne did more page flipping, frowning as he skimmed his notes. “Kane, you and Sanchez start on this list of knowns. Riley and I’ll take the outer circles, hit up the college staff to see if anyone’s got something going for your brother. One thing Kane’s right about. Whoever this asshole is, he’s going to get pissed off that Quinn’s not noticing him. His next hit might be Quinn.”
“If we call the shot today for Rafe, that kind of confirms our suspect’s targeting people Quinn’s been involved with or has some sexual history with,” Sanchez echoed what Kane’d said in the hall. “We don’t have the luxury of hoping the shooter won’t try again.”
“Wait, back that up,” Riley grumbled. “Simon… yeah. But Walker? LeAnne? That doesn’t make sense.”
“The Walker girl was known for being friendly,” Sanchez supplied. “Problem was for her, Q doesn’t swing that way. Hell, he didn’t even notice. She made a play for him, and it bounced… bounced hard.”
“Who told you that? Who noticed Walker being friendly?” the older inspector asked, shuffling through his papers.
“Graham.” Kane scratched at his chin. “Graham Merris. He’s a teacher at the college. Don’t think he’s in Quinn’s department, but they share similar interests. Da said he saw Quinn and Graham at some thing. Shit, there was a flat tire. Da found Quinn changing it one night—the same night he and Merris were out.”
“Merris have any record handling guns?” Browne pinned Kane down with a look hard enough it made Rafe shiver.
“Don’t know. Wasn’t looking at him.” The older Morgan made a disgusted sound in his throat. “Fucking should have looked at him. He just didn’t seem… hefty enough to do the damage.”
“Never underestimate crazy. I have a couple of ex-girlfriends that looked all petite and delicate, then hulked out when you didn’t compliment their shoes,” Sanchez reminded them. “Okay. Kane, how about you and I go pay Professor Merris a visit. Rafe, if you know what’s good for you… keep Quinn off the streets. We’ve already had one Morgan too many taking a bullet this week.”
Chapter 18
Garage Studio, Miki’s warehouse
Damie: You ever think about what it would have been like if we’d started Sinners with Forest and Rafe?
Miki: Nope.
D: Not even a little bit?
M, shaking his head: The world happens because it happens. I miss Johnny and Dave, but after them came Kane… and then you again. Just like if something happens to me, I’d expect you to keep going… keep playing music.
D: Without you, Sinjun… there is no music.
RAFE WOKE to the sounds of splashing. He blinked, trying to adjust to the dark, but the blackout curtains across his bedroom’s windowed walls were too good at their job, and he couldn’t see a damned thing. The length of a warm body next to him was familiar, intimately familiar and welcome.
The splashing sounds grew furious, and Rafe was about to slide out of the bed when he remembered Quinn’d come with a dash of demonic fur.
Harley.
Rafe hit the ground running. He didn’t know what he’d imagined the cat’d gotten into, but whatever his stress-frazzled brain sparked off against his skull, Rafe wasn’t quite prepared to find Quinn’s fuzz-assed cat sitting tail down in the bidet, playing with the spritz of water coming up from the bottom of the bowl.
Shit, he wasn’t even too sure how to work the damned thing, but there was Quinn’s cat, a smile on her triangular gargoyle face and playing patty-cake with a tiny geyser.
There wasn’t enough of a stream to get the floor wet, and when Rafe stuck his fingers into the water, it ran cold against his skin. Harley eyed him suspiciously, her paws paddling furiously. Shrugging, Rafe headed back to bed, leaving the light on so the cat could see what she was doing.
“What’s the matter?” Quinn mumbled when Rafe snuggled up against his back.
“Your cat’s in there playing with the bidet.” Quinn smelled good, vanilla soap and male skin, and Rafe nuzzled his face into Quinn’s hair, breathing him in. “Took me like five days to figure out how it worked, and the cat seems to have aced it on her first try. Gotta admit, the two of you really make me look stupid.”