Free No Safe Place (Joe Hunter Thrillers Book 11) by Matt Hilton Page B

and he looked down at his feet, started toeing the tiles underfoot.
    ‘I guess Ella’s murder hurt more people than her immediate family,’ I said.
    He placed a shaking hand over his eyes and I expected tears to follow, but then his shoulders straightened and he looked directly at me and his eyes, though still bloodshot, were dry. Anger sparked in them. ‘It’s the real reason I’m here. I do want to speak with Andrew, but it’s to ask why the hell I’ve spent all afternoon at the goddamn police station answering hurtful accusations.’
    I experienced a twinge of guilt, because Clayton had nothing to do with Quinn being dragged in for questioning. I wondered if, after we’d spoken about Quinn as a suspect behind the hate campaign, Bryony or Holker made the executive decision to bring him in, put some pressure on him and hope he’d fold - before they had any tangible evidence on him.
    ‘What have you got to complain about?’ I said. ‘Evidently you answered to their satisfaction or you wouldn’t be at your liberty now.’
    Quinn went for his pocket again, but jerked to a halt, anticipating another throttling and painful wristlock.
    ‘Go ahead.’ I said, confident he wasn’t carrying a weapon having discretely checked while propping him up minutes ago. All that was in his inside pocket was the folded paper he’d originally gone for, dropped from his spasming fingers as I’d wrenched everything out of place.
    ‘I had to stand my own bail, goddamnit!’ He rattled the paperwork under my nose, before throwing it on the counter. ‘I’ve to report to Franklin Street to answer more of those goddamn questions in two days time. Those goddamn jackbooted Nazis are currently at my house executing a search warrant. God knows what I’m going to find when I get back home.’
    I thought that at the very least he’d find his computer missing. I assumed his cell phone had already been seized when he was at the police station.
    ‘It was a stupid move coming here, Quinn,’ I told him. ‘What if there’s a tail on you? Fronting Clayton in his own home won’t help your case if the cops think you’re the one harassing him.’
    ‘I’m the one harassing him ?’
    ‘You tell me,’ I said.
    ‘I just got my ass hauled to jail, had my hair yanked out and got grilled by some prissy A-hole in stacked heels, and now my house is being ransacked, and Andrew’s the one being harassed?’ Quinn rubbed his mouth with both hands. Then used his saliva-damp fingers to push back his hair. When he realised what he’d done, he looked in disgust at his palms, and then scrubbed them down the thighs of his jeans.
    ‘You saw the front door, right?’ I said.
    ‘I had nothing to do with that!’ Quinn’s sclera began turning red again.
    ‘I believe you,’ I said, and wasn’t lying. I really didn’t think he was involved in Ella’s death, in the vandalism of Clayton’s home, or in sending the emails. But he could have a stake in the outcome if Clayton was charged. He stood to inherit control of their boating and supplies business, and that could be seen as a motive to want Clayton out of the way. Also, there was something else that might fall in his favour if my suspicions were correct. What that inkling was, I chose to keep it to myself for now. ‘Look, Quinn. It’s like I said, you’re doing yourself no favour coming here like this. Maybe you should leave, and wait until you’ve thought things through before you see Andrew. How is throwing any of this at him going to help? Trust me, it isn’t.’
    He threw up his palms. ‘You might be right. I was just so mad…’
    ‘And getting into an argument with Andrew was your first idea?’
    ‘I didn’t come here to argue, only to speak. He’s my friend, my business partner, who else would I go to?’
    ‘You don’t have a wife or girlfriend whose ear you could bend?’ I asked.
    Quinn’s face almost folded in on itself.
    ‘It’s only me, man,’ he said, ‘only