Page 92 of Playing with Fire

I stifled a yawn and leaned against Quinn. “You know, we’re really bad at this taking everything from the top thing. We’re all over the place. I’m starting to lose track of what happened, and I lived it. Hey, Quinn? Can we use one of those fancy murder boards they have on television? I think we should. It’ll be fun. I’ve never gotten to use a murder board before.”

“How about a white board and some markers?” Chief Hollands suggested.

“That doesn’t seem as fun as those digital things they have on television, Chief Hollands.”

“Reality is often disappointing.”

“Bummer.”

“Still, it’s a good idea we pool our information, lay it out, and take it from the top. Let’s break for an hour and come back to it. I’m sure you’ll enjoy a chance to stretch your legs, get changed, and get some fresh air, Mrs. Quinn.”

Clothes would be useful, although I didn’t mind cuddling up to Quinn at all. “Sounds good.”

If it meant having a real chance to get rid of Quinn’s ex-wife so she never bothered us again, I’d talk my throat bloody to see it happen. Quinn was mine, and I wasn’t going to let a psycho gorgon ex-wife separate us.

Chapter Twenty-One

>Are you sure you’re not an angel in disguise?

An hour gave me enough time to take a quick shower at the station. I dressed in a pair of brand new yoga pants and a black t-shirt too big for me. It smelled like Quinn’s cologne, and I decided possession was nine tenths of the law, so if he wanted it back, he’d have to strip me out of it.

I really hoped he wanted it back soon.

When one of the Vermont State Police offered to pick up a late dinner for us, I got the feeling Quinn didn’t approve of my choice of the greasiest fast food money could buy. The cop found my request amusing, and when Quinn ordered rabbit food, the man laughed.

I ended up with a huge burger, fries that had taken a bath in a grease vat and were salted into oblivion, and a milkshake. “Are you sure you’re not an angel in disguise? Because this looks like heaven.” The cop chuckled and dipped into a bow. “Thank you so much.”

Quinn claimed his salad, set it on the table, and pulled out his wallet, but the cop waved him off. “I mugged the actual angel downstairs for cash already. Chief’s orders.”

“I like these cops, Quinn. They mug angels to pay for my dinner. Can we kidnap a few of them? I’m sure we could fit a few extra desks on the eighth floor somewhere.”

“Run while you can,” Quinn suggested.

Still laughing, the cop obeyed, leaving Quinn and I alone in the break room. The late hour gave the place an empty vibe, although there were a few cops out in the main area hard at work. I sat, unwrapped Quinn’s blanket, and draped it over the back of my chair so I wouldn’t ruin it with grease, ketchup, and mustard.

“That isn’t healthy.”

Yep, he didn’t approve of my glorious burger one bit. I stared into Quinn’s eyes and took a big bite, making a point of exaggerating my sounds of enjoyment while I chewed and swallowed. Then to drive the point home, I licked my fingers and smacked my lips. “You’re just jealous because you can’t have any, especially my fries. Those are mine.”

“If I wanted fries, I would have gotten fries.”

I gave his salad a dubious look. “I’m not sure that’s healthy, either. How can such delicate fare sustain a big manly man like you?”

Chuckling, Quinn pointed at his dressing. “I’m using dressing. It lost its right to call itself healthy the instant I decided to slather it in liquid calories. Anyway, I had a big breakfast.”

“Was it a healthy breakfast?”

“It involved bacon.”

“Bacon’s healthy. I approve.” I set my burger aside and popped a few fries in my mouth, keeping one for when Quinn tried to claim bacon wasn’t actually healthy. The instant he opened his mouth, I shoved the fry inside, cupped his chin with my hand, and helped him chew. “It’s delicious, isn’t it? Yummy, yummy, delicious grease.”

He swallowed, opened his mouth, and I crammed several more fries in. “Chew or choke, Quinn.”

After three more fry assaults, he covered his mouth with his hand. “You’re being ridiculous again. They didn’t feed you napalm, did they?”

I sulked over my thwarted attempt to feed him fries and popped the ammunition into my mouth. Once I swallowed so I wouldn’t choke, I giggled. “I got them to give me some C4.”

“Are you drunk?”