a murder inquiry. Or was that manslaughter?
Quinn chose a demure silk blouse in a floral pattern of pale pink and gray and a pair of charcoal-gray trousers. She looked stylish and professional, but inside, she felt like a little girl who’d been called before the headmaster. She didn’t want to do this. She had to do this. She was the only one who could do this. And she was the one who’d be making herself a target, her inner voice reminded her.
Damn you, Brett, Quinn thought vehemently as she returned downstairs. Damn you, you evil little bastard!
**
The police station was modern and bright, the décor practical and minimalist. Several people nodded to Drew as they passed by, a few stopping to say hello and ask after his leg and his life as a civilian. Drew was friendly and easygoing, no hint of unease in his manner. Quinn, on the other hand, felt sick. She should have told Gabe she was doing this. He would have insisted on accompanying her, and although she’d wanted to spare him this, she now wished he were here.
I can do this, Quinn chided herself. This is nothing but a preliminary interview. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m not the one on trial here. But I might be asked some difficult questions. If DI Marshall was as thorough as Drew had intimated, he’d want to know the source of her information.
“Drew, good to see you. And this must be Mrs. Russell. I’m Detective Inspector Dan Marshall,” the man said, holding his hand out to Quinn. “Please come this way.” He made a sweeping gesture toward the beige-painted corridor that led to several closed doors. “I’ve reserved us an interview room.”
DI Marshall was tall and lean, his physique reminiscent of a professional cyclist. His salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, the haircut stylish and expensive looking, as were his gray suit and slate-blue silk tie. Next to him, Drew Camden looked like a bear who’d just awoken from a prolonged hibernation. He lumbered down the corridor, nearly filling the narrow space.
“Please have a seat,” DI Marshall invited. “Tea?”
“Yes, please,” Quinn said. Her mouth was so dry she could barely get the words out.
“Any chance of a decent cup of coffee?” Drew asked.
“A very good chance. We have a new machine,” DI Marshall replied. He made a call and asked for two coffees and a tea. A young constable arrived a few minutes later and set the cups on the table, leaving without a word.
“Right,” DI Marshall said once everyone had their cup before them. “So, what’s this about? You were awfully tightlipped on the phone, Drew,” he said, watching Drew as if he were the suspect.
“This is regarding the hit-and-run accident that killed Jo Turing, who was Mrs. Russell’s sister.”
“Yes?”
“Dan, Mrs. Russell hired me to gather evidence to support her belief that her sister was murdered.”
DI Marshall’s brows rose in surprise, but he said nothing.
“I have been able to recreate the timeline of events and gather enough evidence to support the allegation.”
“Go on,” DI Marshall said. He was leaning forward now, clearly intrigued.
Drew opened the manila folder he’d brought along and consulted the contents. “Let me begin by saying that Brett Besson, the brother of Quinn Russell and Jo Turing, had served a year at a Louisiana penitentiary for attempted murder. The conviction was overturned during an appeal trial because the confession had been illegally obtained. Brett Besson arrived in London two days after his release.”
“Whom did he try to kill?”
“Me,” Quinn croaked. “He tried to kill me.”
“Why?”
“Because I had unwittingly threatened to expose something he didn’t wish to be known.”
“I see,” DI Marshall said. “And you think he meant to kill Ms. Turing for the same reason?”
“No. His reasons for wanting Ms. Turing dead are unclear, although we believe he thought he was making amends to Quinn by ridding her of a sister who’d threatened her marriage,” Drew interjected.
“This gets better and better,” DI Marshall muttered. “All right. Proceed.”
“Brett Besson arrived in the UK on June twenty-sixth, 2015, and made contact with Quinn Russell shortly thereafter,” Drew began. “He’d expressed a desire to apologize for what he’d done and make amends. Quinn was not receptive to meeting with him, so he ambushed her. During his time in London, he also connected with his other sister, Jo Turing, whom he was meeting for the first time.” Drew pushed a sheet of paper toward Marshall. “I highlighted the calls and texts between them.”
DI Marshall lifted the paper and looked