doing?”
“He was.”
“So, he thought he was doing you a favor?” he asked, sounding as if he were asking Quinn if she really believed there was intelligent life on Mars.
“He never actually said so,” Quinn replied.
“Mrs. Russell, what was it you were going to reveal that had led to an attempt on your life?” DI Marshall pinned her with his steely gaze, and Quinn met it head on, annoyed by the man’s insolent tone. She might not be on trial, but she felt as if she were.
“While investigating our family history, I had learned that Brett, Jo, and I are descended from a slave woman who’d been brought to America from Trinidad on a slave ship. Brett was raised in New Orleans, Louisiana,” Quinn said. “Deep American South. He didn’t want it to come to light that one of our ancestors had been a slave. He couldn’t accept that he had Negro blood.”
“Is he that much of a racist?” DI Marshall asked.
“Brett has white supremacist leanings,” Quinn replied. “He expressed his views to me just before he locked me in a tomb in a deserted part of a cemetery and left me to die. I was pregnant at the time,” she added.
“I see. And how did you come by the registration number for the vehicle that killed Jo Turing?” DI Marshall asked, turning to Drew.
Quinn sucked in her breath. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t bring Daisy into this, and given DI Marshall’s sardonic glare, she couldn’t begin to imagine what his reaction would be if she admitted that the registration number had been seen in a psychic vision.
Drew collected his papers and stuffed them back in the folder. He appeared to be buying time to come up with a reasonable explanation. He then looked up at Dan Marshall and smiled slyly. “I worked backwards, Dan. It had been mentioned in the press at the time of Jo Turing’s death that she had been struck by a silver Nissan. That much was clear on the CCTV footage, but the registration number was impossible to make out. The image was too dark. I mapped out every possible route back to the hostel and hit every carwash along the way. There are thirty-seven,” he added conversationally. “At carwash twenty-six, I found what I was looking for. A silver Nissan had been brought in right around the time of the accident. I then scoured CCTV footage from the two nearest cameras and was able to find the car and obtain a photo of the driver. The rest you can figure out for yourself.”
“That was quite a long shot,” DI Marshall observed.
“Perhaps, but since I knew I was looking to implicate Brett Besson, I was able to narrow down the area and also confirm that the Sentra had been rented by Swen Persson for the duration of his stay.”
DI Marshall grinned broadly, the smile lighting up his serious face. “I’m impressed, Drew. That’s solid detective work.”
“Thanks, Dan. That’s what I’m paid for,” Drew replied acerbically. It was obvious the two men hadn’t quite buried the hatchet, but they had a grudging respect for one another.
“Leave this with me,” DI Marshall said as he held out his hand for the folder.
“You have enough here to reopen the case, Dan,” Drew said as he handed over the folder.
“You know I can’t make that decision, Drew. I will present your findings to the powers-that-be and recommend that they reopen the investigation.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said, grateful beyond words that Daisy’s name hadn’t come into the conversation.
“Mrs. Russell, I’m sorry for what happened to you,” DI Marshall said, surprising her with a look of sympathy. “I meet many dysfunctional families in my line of work, but this…” He made a gesture that indicated utter disbelief. “I will be in touch.”
“With Drew?” Quinn asked.
“No, with you. Drew’s involvement in this is over. If we hope to get a conviction, our investigation must adhere to the letter of the law, and Drew’s less-than-legitimate ways of obtaining evidence may come into question.”
Drew nodded but didn’t argue.
“I have one more question, Mrs. Russell,” DI Marshall said as he stood to leave. “Why have you waited so long to bring this to our attention?”
“I tried to tell myself that Brett had turned over a new leaf and couldn’t possibly have done such a horrible thing, but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. I think I’ve always known deep down that Brett’s attempt on my life wasn’t a one-off.”
“But this time his MO was vastly different,”