“What’s Lillie say?” she asked. “About everything you found out?”

“Lillie has a personal history with the Byrd girl,” Quinn said. “And her mother. I don’t think she’s gonna believe anything until I get something solid.”

“Like what?” Maggie said. “A full confession?”

“Maybe,” Quinn said. “Chester’s digging himself in deep. Lying about threats from TJ and about taking money from Gina. The problem is that he was up in Oxford around the time we believe Gina was killed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Reggie drove up and checked out his story,” Quinn said. “He was there, drinking at the Library bar with a crew of old frat boys.”

“Damn.”

“Yep.”

“So he hired someone?”

“Or two,” Quinn said. “If you can believe TJ, two men attacked her momma. I’ve subpoenaed his bank records, phone records, and security footage from the Bluebird.”

“And?”

“That’s gonna take a while,” Quinn said. “I just wish TJ had trusted me before she ran. I think she knows plenty about Chester and her momma and could’ve helped us out. I should’ve tried harder.”

“Sounds like she had her mind already made up about you.”

Quinn stood up and stretched before flipping over the album. He walked over to the old rolltop desk that had been his grandfather’s and reached for the bottle of bourbon. He watched for Maggie’s reaction, as Quinn had hit the bottle a little hard after his shooting, but Maggie didn’t say a word. She just stretched out on the sofa, hands under her head, enjoying a little rest before Halley’s midnight feeding. She knew Quinn was done with the booze and the pills, a momentary lapse in judgment caused by pain.

“If Gina Byrd cut a man so bad she thought he was dead, he would’ve gone to a doctor.”

“Checked the hospital,” Quinn said. “Checked the clinics. First thing I did.”

“Nothing?”

“Nope,” Quinn said, taking a slow sip, sitting back down, Maggie’s head falling back into his lap. She had her reddish hair in a bun, freckled face scrubbed of makeup, little mouth pursed while deep in thought. She wore one of his old U.S. Army sweatshirts, loose and well-worn over a pair of faded jeans.

“Think me and you might make some good use of our alone time?” Quinn asked.

“Hold that thought, Ranger,” she said. “Did you check the hospital later on?”

“It can account for two, three days after Gina was killed.”

“Sometimes folks don’t come in until it gets real bad,” she said. “Infection setting in. They might put it off because they don’t want to call attention to themselves or don’t have insurance. I can check with the desk in the morning.”

“You also know some folks at the clinics, too,” Quinn said. “They may share something with you they wouldn’t share with my deputies.”

“Roger that,” Maggie said.

“You making fun of me?” Quinn asked.