“Already did,” Quinn said. “But why did she deny the relationship when we asked?”
“Fear,” Danni said. “She and Arnie were still working out their relationship. She was dragging her feet a lot more than he was.”
“But what were they afraid of?”
“I think Arnie was afraid of commitment while he was in the service, afraid he might not make it home,” she said. “But then their son came along, and he was out, and they were trying to figure things out when Arnie was killed. And then Jessica didn’t want to tell the truth in case that put Craig at risk.”
“Well, I’m sure the Watsons will be ecstatic,” Larue said. “Now come on. I’ll get you all home.”
*
The Watsons were already ecstatic, as they discovered as soon as they got home. According to Natasha, Amy had known the child was her grandson the minute she’d seen him. She’d cried for an hour and then started getting to know him, playing with him, singing to him then convincing him to go to sleep. The Watsons and Bo Ray were sleeping; Jez, Natasha and Father Ryan were standing sentinel in the kitchen. Jez volunteered to stay up that night while the others got some sleep.
The situation had changed tonight, Quinn thought, and he was still trying to get a handle on what that meant. It was interesting that the killer had apparently been as much in the dark about Jessica and Arnie’s son as they had been themselves. And he had been so stunned by the discovery that he had abandoned his attack.
He had changed things up, as well. He’d attacked during the early evening instead of the very early morning when his preferred targets were on their way home.
They would need to be even more vigilant in the days ahead. He’d never been a profiler, but even Quinn could see that things had changed for the killer. He would be growing more desperate.
And even more dangerous.
*
They were both exhausted; it felt as if they had been exhausted for days. So Quinn was surprised when Danni began peeling off her clothes the minute they reached her bedroom, leaving a trail on her way to the shower.
“You could wait till we wake up,” he said gently, and teased, “You don’t smell that bad.”
“Hospitals, beer, smoke, Bourbon Street? Ugh!” she called back to him. She disappeared for a moment then peeked out from around the door. “You’re welcome to join me.”
He was so tired, and the bed was so tempting.
But Danni was more so.
It was amazing, he thought a moment later, what standing beneath the hot spray did to sharpen his senses.
She looked as if she were trying to scrub away the clamp of fear that had settled over the city. But she needed to be held, as well. To touch him and be touched in turn, to curve into him and feel his arms around her.
The shower was for foreplay; his height made making love there tricky. Drying off became more foreplay, and crashing into bed, feeling the heat of her skin against his, breathing in the scent of her, clean and sensual, created the kind of desire that transcended the world around him. He’d thought they would be gentle, playful. But instead their lovemaking was heated and volatile, passionate and, finally, sating. At last, exhausted, he lay next to her. She rested her head on his chest, so he began running his fingers through her hair. He didn’t want to move, but finally he did. He got up and donned a pair of boxers. Danni was half-asleep, but he managed to get her into a long sleepshirt. There were just too many people in the house for them to sleep the way they liked, flesh touching flesh.
Four hours later, he was glad he’d urged her into the T.
He felt her move and was instantly awake. He realized that she was sleepwalking, so he let her go and followed her downstairs, where she headed toward her studio. As they passed the kitchen he saw that Amy and Woodrow were there with Craig, feeding him cereal and playing with him. Woodrow instantly looked up, ready to come to the defense of his family. Quinn smiled and motioned for him to stay then followed Danni into her studio.
She flipped a page on her drawing board, picked up a pencil and sat down on her stool then began to sketch.
It was the same scene she had sketched before—but with a crucial difference. The B-Street Bombers were all there. Tyler, seemingly unaware of anything but the music, was playing the saxophone, clearly transported by the music. Shamus was idly tapping on his drum set and looking toward the bar. Both Jessica and Sharon were at the bar, empty trays resting on their hips as they talked to the customers, smiling, relaxed and friendly.
Gus was also standing at the bar. Quinn himself was standing nearby, watching Gus. Billie was at a table with Father Ryan and Natasha. They were all there; they’d just moved around from her last drawing.
But this time there was more.
Craig was sitting on the bar, and while everyone in the room seemed to be doing something else, they were all really watching the little boy.