I shook my head. “You said he was clean, and I trust you.” I glanced at him. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

A hesitation, then a soft exhale. “Yeah.”

We’d agreed to meet Felix and Quinn at a baseball diamond in Chicago. When we arrived, Quinn and Felix were right inside the gates. I saw Quinn first, a tray of hot dogs and sodas in his hands, wearing worn jeans and a T-shirt that pulled tight over his broad shoulders. His gaze lighted on me, and he grinned. My stomach did a little flip. I blamed it on the smell of the food.

“Got you a hot dog,” Quinn said, thrusting it out like a bouquet of roses.

Beside me, Jack made a noise, half grunt, half sigh.

“Don’t glower, Jack,” Quinn said. “Got you one, too.”

I took mine with thanks. Jack just looked at the tray.

Felix walked up behind Quinn and raised a half-eaten hot dog. “I can assure you, Jack, they’re quite fine. He isn’t trying to poison us…yet.”

“One could argue that all hot dogs are poisonous,” I said, as we fell into step and headed for the bleachers. “If you eat enough, they have to be at least as lethal as arsenic.”

“Shhh,” Quinn said. Then he held out the tray again. “Jack, have another.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Jack said.

“Someone’s in a fucking fantastic mood. We are finally going to nail this bastard.”

Quinn grinned at me, and I felt an answering rush of excitement. I was finally on my target’s trail, so close I could narrow my eyes and visualize him in my scope.

When I smiled back, Quinn’s grin grew and he swung out of the way to let me head into the bleacher row. He tried to follow, but Jack cut in front of him. Quinn waited for Jack to pass, then darted into the aisle below, passed us and vaulted over the bench to sit on my other side, still grinning, looking like a kid who’s outwitted the teacher. I couldn’t help laughing.

“You think he’ll show?” I said, as we settled into the bleacher seats.

“I sure hope so, because if he does, he’s toast.” His eyes gleamed. “This bastard has taken his last victim. We’re bringing him down and I cannot fucking wait to see it.”

“Got that impression,” Jack said.

Quinn only rolled his eyes, enthusiasm undimmed, so stoked he was practically bouncing in his seat. As I watched him, I felt a pang of envy. Quinn felt no need to emulate Jack and treat this with quiet professionalism. I could only sit there, basking in his fire, struggling to remember what it felt like to be that open, that unguarded.