Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

But it did change everything I thought I knew. Everything I'd been damned sure of, for twenty years, one of the few constants in my life, that kernel of rage blaming Aldrich for killing my cousin. And maybe more important that confusion and internal struggle over him being set free, not wanting to blame my family but, in a little way, doing exactly that.

Now that I saw the file, I knew Neil and Koss were both right. It was a fair trial. Even if Aldrich did do it, it was hard to convict him of murder based on this. Statutory rape? Definitely. Manslaughter? Probably. If they'd bargained down, he'd have gone to jail. But the prosecution must have thought their murder case was sound and Aldrich hadn't tried to bargain. If he didn't do it, that gave him all the more reason to be sure he'd be acquitted. So why say he'd accidentally killed her? That I didn't know.

At a noise beside me, I turned to see Jack.

"You got something?" he asked.

"We do," I said. "And you?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

CHAPTER 42

Jack had found a reference in one of the more recent entries in which Aldrich wrote that he had "shared" a fifteen-year-old conquest with another man. The details of how that came about weren't in the journal, just an allusion to the fact that alcohol and drugs had been involved. Aldrich was always careful to avoid details. I

suppose he figured if the journal was found, he could claim it was just fantasies. Without details, investigators might be unable to find his victims and prove otherwise. So there was nothing there except a description of the encounter itself. We skimmed that. Like everything else in the journal, this was where Aldrich put his detail in, and no one needed to read that.

Here, he'd written that he'd forgotten how good it could be to "share," and that he'd missed it, not just the sex but having someone to share the entire experience with, someone who can open you up to things you'd never dare try on your own. "This wasn't the same," he wrote. "There was none of that this time. It was just sex. But it made me long for the old days. I got scared off back then. We both did. I know more now, though, and sometimes I wonder if it's not too late to go back."

"Damn," Quinn said as we finished reading. "It really sounds like he's referring to Amy. Being tried for murder would definitely scare anyone off, even if he was acquitted."

"What'd you find?" Jack asked.

I told him, and when I finished, we agreed that while it still wasn't solid proof that Aldrich had a partner it was enough to proceed in that direction. But how the hell would we find his partner? There sure weren't any clues in the journal. I'd gotten all I could from Shannon Broadhurst, and there was no way of knowing this partner was even the "old friend" he'd mentioned to her. We could start interviewing his other known victims, see if he'd said more, but that was time consuming, risky, and a long shot.

Quinn was quiet for a minute. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking over at me. "We know Aldrich was being investigated under other names. Jack has all that. I'm going to suggest that I start looking into it officially. Obviously, it's not my area, so I'm not investigating officially. But I'd be looking as myself. As a marshal. That will make it a lot easier."

I straightened. "I don't want you taking any risks--"

"I'm not, and here's the part you might not like. You know I didn't keep our relationship a secret. I couldn't. Friends, family, they knew I was seeing someone. A few even got a name. You and I agreed that was okay. While I wouldn't announce that I'm looking into Aldrich or why, if it came up, I have an excuse. You had questions after his death. I agreed to dig."

"Yeah," Jack said. "Do that."

"I was asking Dee."

"Who is gonna ask me if it's safe. I say it is. You're okay with it? Go ahead."

I kept my mouth shut. Jack was answering because I could not in good conscience tell Quinn to do anything that would even slightly risk damaging his professional reputation.

"Good," Quinn said. "I'll get on that. Jack, if there's anything--anything at all--you can give me from the journal that will help me . . ."

"Few things. Other attacks. Got a list."

"Thanks." Quinn looked at me. "This is going to be the proverbial needle-in-a-haystack search, but I think it's the best we can do for now."

"I have some feelers out, too," Jack said. "Got our pro's fake ID. Got his burner phone. Seeing if that leads anywhere."

"Great," Quinn said. "Every potential lead is going to count here."

Jack nodded, but I could tell I wasn't the only one who kind of wished Quinn was being his testy, confrontational self instead.

Night comes fast when your day starts past noon, and it was almost nine when we ordered pizza and eleven by the time we finished. Jack called it a day then, though I suspect he was just hinting for Quinn to go to his room.

Except Quinn didn't have a room yet, and when he went to the desk, they were fully booked for a convention. So he had to crash on our sofa bed, which added a whole new level of awkward.

"I'll take the sofa," I said quickly. "You have one of the beds."