Chill Factor Page 0,96

Factor"

Lazlo shut his eyes wearily.

"You killed Siobhan!" Kevin yelled, and tried to get out of the chair to lunge at Lazlo, or anyone else in reach. I wasn't sure whom he was directing the accusation toward, but I figured it was probably all of us.

"I'm afraid we did, but not deliberately." Lazlo rubbed his forehead and forced himself back to dignified attention. "And I'm afraid we put you in danger as well, Miss Baldwin. It was not our intention."

"It's been Quinn all along," I said. "Right? Quinn wanted Jonathan. I'll bet it was his idea to 'rescue' me, too, when I first arrived."

Nobody made a sound. I turned toward Kevin. "Quinn put Siobhan in there to try to steal the bottle. Kevin, I think she did like you, but I'm pretty sure Quinn had some kind of hold over her. He was a cop, after all." Siobhan had picked up Jonathan's bottle when I'd dropped it. She'd put it in her pocket. She'd given me back the decoy.

Like I'd noticed from the start. She was a professional.

"He's the one who shot Siobhan?" Kevin asked. His hands were still shaking, but he looked feral now, especially spattered with her blood. Ready to gnaw his own arm off if it would get him a step closer to Quinn. "Why? Why would he do that?"

"Because I ducked," I said flatly. I turned toward Lewis, knelt down next to his chair with my arms braced on his knees. "He was shooting at me, and it wasn't about Jonathan. Not that time."

He looked at me through bleary eyes. "Then what?"

"Question for a question. What's his first name?"

Someone made a sound halfway between a huh? and an uh-oh, she's lost her mind; I didn't bother to check who. Lewis looked at me with feverish, red-rimmed eyes and said, "His name is Detective Thomas Quinn."

Which wasn't what I'd expected. It threw me for a second, but then Lazlo cleared his throat. His lips twisted like a man having surgery done with a sharp spoon and no anesthetic, and he said sourly, "Thomas Orenthal Quinn." Laz was already ahead of the curve. He'd heard my story. He knew.

"Orry," I said. "No wonder he wanted me dead. He couldn't know how much I remembered. He didn't know whether or not I'd recognize him-I didn't; it was too long ago, I never really saw his face, but he couldn't take the chance that I was running some big-time double-crossing game. I think he would have killed me earlier, but he was afraid to do it in the Luxor. Afraid you'd know. He felt better after he heard me tell the story to Ashworth, but he still didn't trust me. When I ended up over there again, he figured I might have figured it out. Couldn't have that."

Jonathan had said it: The lines connected through me. I was the nexus of so many things here, including-especially-this.

Thomas Orenthal Quinn: Orry. Chaz Ashworth III had died taking me to his boss, Orry... and at the time, I'd assumed that Orry's business had been all about drugs. It probably was, in the beginning. Easy money for both of them.

I'd been right in the same room with the man who'd inhabited my nightmares for years, and I never even knew it. Hell, I'd even liked him.

Suddenly the enormity of it crashed down on me... David, turning to ash and shadows; Siobhan, dying in my place; Lewis, dying right now, dying as I watched. I could see it happening. I'd let Jonathan be taken away when I'd had the answer in my hands, because I hadn't been fast enough or good enough or smart enough to see.

"Joanne?" Marion's voice, Marion's warm hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her and realized how tired she was. Her Djinn had been taken from her, held ransom for her good behavior. Quinn had been working the angles for a long, long time.

A cold shiver went down my spine. "When did your Djinn disappear?"

"Five years ago." From her expression, I'd bet that Marion could have told me down to the day, hour, minute, and second.

I felt my hands curl into fists. Five years ago. "How long have the Djinn been disappearing?"

"In numbers?" Lewis asked. "About six years. Maybe less."

Since Chaz. Since Orry in the desert.

Since I'd gone into that dark, dark cave and he'd asked me questions.

I felt Lewis take my hand, and despite the weakness I knew was ravaging his body, he managed to squeeze it tight enough