“Who else could it possibly be?” Moet cries out in frustration. “We have no suspects, no leads, nothing! What do we do, Quinn? What do we do?” It’s been two whole weeks since her reunification with Leighton and now she just felt lost.
Quinn sits stony-faced across the table from their usual spot at the diner. He just shakes his head and takes another gulp of his coffee. “It really seems like there’s no one left, doesn’t it?” He pauses for a while. “You don’t think it’s me, do you?”
Moet’s eyes widen in surprise. Quinn? The killer? Impossible. “What? No. Never. Why would you even think that?”
Quinn shrugs and murmurs as he traces the circle of his coffee cup’s rim, “If Dylan could talk himself out of numerous attempted arrests, he easily could’ve molded anyone’s mind to take his side. Against me.” His dark eyes flicker up to mine. “Not so far-fetched, is it?”
She sighs. “You loved Dakota more than anyone. Maybe even more than me. You would’ve cut off your own arm before hurting her and I know that.” Hesitantly, she places her hand over his in comfort and looks him in the eye. “I know that,” she repeats. Quinn gives a stiff nod and turns back to looking down at the table. It’s another long while before one of them starts the conversation back up again.
“I have an idea.” Quinn says.
“What?” She asks. “Idea about what?”
“An idea on who… the killer is.” He sighs. “But you won’t like it.”
“Quinn, at this point, I’m taking anything I can get.” Moet says.
“Have you ever considered… Leighton?” Quinn suggests with an uncomfortable squirm.
Moet doesn’t like where this is going. “What?”
“Well, it’s just. In those crime shows, it’s always the person you least expect, you know? And who’d expect Leighton?” Or me, the silence said.
“I hate to shoot you down, but Leighton didn’t even know she existed until I told him about her.” Moet is starting to get a bit angry now. The nerve Quinn had to accuse her boyfriend of murder!
“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry. It was just a blind guess.” Quinn quickly backtracked.
“Quinn, who was the girl you cheated on Dakota with?” Moet asks.
Stunned, Quinn shakes his head and says in a low voice, “I don’t remember her name. But she had dark hair. Petite build. I left before I could find anything else out.” He buries his face in his hands. “God damn it, why did she have to go and get herself killed? I loved her.” He takes his hands away from his face. “You have to believe me, I loved her, Moet. I still do.”
Moet nods sadly and says, “I know. I know you do.”
Quinn nods as if to reassure himself and they both finish their lunches then head back out to Quinn’s car.
Moet was no detective, she knew that. The search was practically at a dead-end, she and Quinn were tossing out random guesses at this point, and there didn’t seem to be much hope left at ever solving this mess.
But she had to try.
She had to try.
YOU ARE READING
Strawberries & Cigarettes
Teen FictionShe has obsessive-compulsive disorder. He finished all the required classes for graduating by his freshman year. She trains in ballet four hours a day, five days a week. He doesn’t understand people. She’s scared of waking up. He’s scared of not kn...
