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“I’m not happy, let’s put it that way. But the case is entirely circumstantial. There’s zero evidence beyond circumstantial, and even that’s weak.”

“I can’t agree. I think they’re the kind of circumstances that convince juries.”

Per Marcus, as much as juries loved forensic evidence like DNA, circumstantial evidence that resonated emotionally, that jurors could recognize and relate to, often trumped science. And if there was one dynamic a lot of people recognized, it was a romantic triangle.

“You could be right, but there’s literally nothing, beyond the thinnest of motives, to link either of us to Marcus’s murder.”

Andy was thinking that over when, to his surprise, Quinn reached across the table and traced a finger across his knuckles.It was such a delicate touch, but Andy seemed to feel it all the way to his heart.

“Correction. It’s not the thinnest of motives. But I give you my word, I had nothing to do with taking out Marcus.”

“I know that.”

Quinn’s smile was crooked. “Do you? Because your instinct is correct. If there’d been no other way to keep Marcus from coming after you, I’d have dealt with him. But there’s almost always another way. We still had a couple of options for handling Marcus.”

Andy gazed into Quinn’s green eyes and believed him. A weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying seemed to drop from his shoulders.

Quinn said seriously, “You made your feelings clear the first time we talked about Marcus. It’d be pretty shitty to pretend I was doing something for you that completely ignored what you wanted, what mattered to you.”

“Thanks,” Andy said huskily, because that kind of reasoning, the reasoning Quinn rejected, was how Marcus used to think.

“Besides, if Ihaddecided to eliminate that particular threat in that particular way, I wouldn’t be such a jackass as to do it in a manner sure to throw suspicion on you and me both.”

Andy laughed shakily. “Exactly! That’s what I kept trying to tell Millard and Ruthanne.”

Quinn looked sardonic but refrained from comment.

“WhydoesMillard have it in for you?” Andy asked. “Yes, he was great friends with your grandfather, but there has to be more.”

“Didn’t I tell you all this years ago?”

“No. You didn’t like to talk about what happened at home.”

Quinn’s smile was odd. “That’s funny. Whenever I think back, my memory is of me blabbing everything to you. I feel like I told you everything there was to tell.”

“You were pretty closemouthed. Maybe you’re thinking of Jim.”

“Jim?” Quinn shook his head. “No. I spilled my guts that first night, but after that… Jim was always in the moment. He didn’t care about the past, and he didn’t give much thought to the future.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” Quinn was brisk. “Jim wouldn’t want anyone being sorry about anything. You were asking about Millard. Well, he was in love with my mother.”

“He was— Did he tell you that?”

“Not in so many words. Not intentionally. Gran told me. She said Millard was always crazy about my mother, but she wasn’t interested. Mom wanted out of Safehaven. She turned him down, repeatedly, and went away to college in Augusta. She was going to be an architect. But then she met my father, and he talked her into leaving college and moving to Oregon.”

“What was in Oregon?”

“Portland? I have no idea. They didn’t stay together. It was just her and me until I was about six, and then she got sick. After she was gone, I got shipped back to Safehaven.” Quinn’s lip curled. “Full circle.”

So much heartbreak was left unspoken in that terse retelling.

“And Millard resented you for choices your mother made?”

Quinn shrugged. “You’d have to ask a psychologist. I don’t care what his problem was or is. Not then. Not now.” He grinned. “Maybe I’ll run against him for police chief.”

“Uh, you do know that police chiefs are appointed, not elected, right?”