Page 5 of Shattered Reflections

Quinn shook his head, his rough, sleepy tone sounding more tired than he looked. His fancy shirt was untucked, and his suspenders were slightly skewed, which was saying something.

“Nope. The victim let them in willingly.”

I nodded, knowing what was going to be said next.

“The victim was an alleged druggie. He’d been reported selling his drugs to some high school kids at Briar. He got away before Bleu could nab him. His stacks snuffed out a bunch of the homeless people. It’s not right. Bleu was beating himself up because one of them was a kid at Briar’s High.”

Micah Quinn was a good man. He always took it hard when kids were caught in the trap of bad people. Their false promises blinded the victims to the reality of what it meant to be in that world, and their poison slowly rotted their marks from the inside out. This unsub always targeted drug dealers, left a bloody kiss on the victims’ bodies and killed them with an overdose of their own drugs. That must be why this serial killer was called Snow White.

“Guess it didn’t do him any good running from Bleu and the boys did it?” His baritone rumble sounded around me as his baby blue eyes lit up with amusement.

It was rare for anyone to see Quinn’s mask of ‘Good Boy Detective’ falter, his true self shining through, so his smile at the universal justice served had me hiding a grin in return. He was a beautiful man. I had to admit that. His tailored, dirty blond hair faded on the sides, and surfer boy curls fell in front of his eyes. I knew he worked out a ton. Whenever I entered the training center at the compound, he always had gym equipment clanking together.

“What do you make of this, Ella?” I blinked lightly, shaking my head, blushing.

Ogling my partner… I was so lame sometimes.

“U—Uhh…” I stuttered. “I think the perp is our Snow White.” I looked over at the dead body. “His name was Desmond Franklin. He was a thirty-two-year-old janitor at Briar High. He was fired last month for suspicious activity regarding his communication with the students.”

Quinn was nodding, inquisitiveness covering his face. And dare I say, he was impressed, too? His eyes twinkled with mirth.

“You’ve done your homework,” he said.

“I try to make myself aware of the new peddlers in the area, so that I have a step up when they end up dead.”

“When?” He quirked an eyebrow.

Shit.

“Sorry.” I bit my lip at my fuck up. “It’s just that for the past few years, Snow White hasn’t let a drug dealer walk on the street for very long. This one had only been dealing for a few months, and my guess is he got cocky or careless.”

He smiled.

It was not funny that these people were dying. Death wasn’t funny. It was just that, for once, the ones slipping through the cracks of the system were still finding their prisons or hell.

“Good work, Crime Scene Analyst, Fox,” Quinn said, sliding that mask of order and authority back into place.

“Thank you, Detective Quinn.” I sighed and smiled weakly.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Walking away to the small kitchenette area that was being vacated by the crew, I answered.

“This is Ella.”

A shrill squeak came from the other side of the line, and I cringed, pulling it back from my ear. A few crime scene team members looked my way, including Quinn. I sheepishly smiled and turned my face into the corner.

“Ella-Ella Bo-Bella….”

“Cassie? Is that you?”

“Banana-Fanna Foe-Fella….”

“Cassie, please, I’m at work,” I hissed, covering the earpiece with my palm.

“Me. Mi. Mo-Mella…,” she continued to slur loudly.

I rubbed my temple, a migraine forming at the corners and my nausea beginning.

“Damnit, Cassie,” I cursed, trying hard to keep a steady professional tone.