Five members of a dog-fighting ring in Aberdeenshire sentenced to twenty months in prison each.
Good riddance.
Toxicology tests on the body of a teenage girl found in a ditch three days ago show that the cause of death was a drug overdose.
Poor thing. Awful.
Elizabeth waited to see whether they’d give an update on Jack’s murder, but they moved to sports, which held no interest for her at all. She turned her mind to the whiteboard, let random thoughts trickle through her head.
The phone had been a dead end, but why would someone steal a phone and then destroy it? Most people who stole cell phones tried to sell them.
Ava had mentioned two men. There was the man who had tried to attack MSP Whitehall, threatening to kill him and Jack and shouting incoherently about abortion. What had happened with him? Then there was Leo Grant, Jack’s former gang buddy, who had gotten angry when Jack had refused to work for him. Ava said Jack had had doubts about Leo’s business dealings. The man must make good money to be able to afford private security and double Jack’s pay.
There was also Jack’s past involvement with gangs.
The toxicology results from Jack’s post-mortem weren’t back yet, so she…
Elizabeth’s gaze snapped back to the television, and she tried to remember the report about the teenage overdose victim verbatim.
Katie Cameron, the fourteen-year-old teenager whose body was found three days ago in a ditch outside Edinburgh, died of a drug overdose it has been revealed. Tests showed alcohol, cocaine, and heroin in her body at the time of her death.
They’d found the girl three days ago and already had her results. They’d had Jack’s body for twice that long and had told Ava the results weren’t back yet.
They found something.
That’s why they were focused on drugs.
Elizabeth’s heart sank. If she was right, both Quinn and Ava would take the news hard. Maybe she could make it easier for Quinn at least if she shared her suspicions. Then again, maybe she was wrong. Maybe Scotland placed a priority on toxicology results for murdered minors. In most places in the US, murders and rapes had higher priority when it came to toxicology and DNA testing.
Quinn walked in wearing a T-shirt and gym pants that rode low on his hips. He flashed her a smile and walked over to the free weights, setting up the chest press.
Damn.
Elizabeth had seen him work out before—all that muscle in action. Cobra had a gym in the basement that most of the employees used to stay fit. The difference between Cobra’s gym and this place was that they were on vacation now—and they were alone.
It would besoeasy to give in and let her hormones win. She’d danced with Quinn and knew he was good with his body. He’d probably be as lethal in bed as he was out of it. But she’d hooked up with a coworker once before and had paid a terrible price for it. She’d sworn to herself never to make that mistake again.
Still, she was on vacation. It didn’t hurt to ogle him—just a little.
Bench press. Bicep curls. Triceps. Incline press.
He got to his feet, raised the hem of his T-shirt to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing that delicious six-pack.
Elizabeth didn’t realize she’d stopped running until the machine tossed her onto the floor. She toppled with a shriek, landing flat on her butt.
“Are you hurt?” Quinn jogged over, held out a big hand to help her up.
Heat rushed into her cheeks. “I’m fine.”
She took his hand, stood, coming face to face with him—or face to sternum. He smelled like salt and sweat and soap, the warm scents filling her head, leaving her intoxicated.
Pheromone alert.
“Did you forget you were runnin’?” The gleam in his blue eyes told her he found all of this funny.
She couldn’t tell him the truth, so she lied. “I’m not sure what I did.”
She wassuchan idiot.