The Truth Seeker by Dee Henderson Page A

her teeth as she let herself dream a little.
    “You would love it and you know it.”
    “Can you see me being a stay-at-home wife?” Living miles from a decent-sized town, with only Quinn and the ranch hands for company
     
    it actually sounded wonderful. She liked the city, but she got out of it every chance she could.
    “You’d have your pilot’s license within six months,” Jen replied.
    “And it would take a couple years just to identify all the wildlife that stops by. I heard Quinn saw a cougar last winter.”
     
    “It came all the way down to the main barn.”
    “I hope he didn’t kill it.”
    “Knowing Quinn, he probably sweet-talked it into moving on.
    “It’s Amy Ireland?”
    Quinn was still trying to take in the stunning realization of what
    Lisa perked up at that news. The closest she had ever come to seeing a cougar was finding pawprints in the snow as she hiked through the mountains. “Really?”
    Besides, just think of all the land you could explore. Aren’t there caves on his property?”
    “Several back in the bluffs.”
    The movie came back from commercial. Lisa was relieved. It was only a matter of time before her sister worked the conversation around to the subject of religion. Jen was only marginally more subtle about it than Kate. Religion and Quinn had become favorite conversation topics for her sisters. Talking about a guy with any of her sisters was always done at her peril. They had long memories for what she said
    and what she didn’t say.
    “Oh, I’m going to cry. This is so sad,” Jennifer said as Tom and Meg said good-bye, possibly forever. Lisa moved aside the phone as Jen blew her nose. Personally she thought the movie was a little overblown.
    Nobody was this romantic in real life although Marcus and Shari came close. But it never hurt to dream.
    “Lincoln, what is going on?” The Italian restaurant a block east of the gallery had partially emptied, due to the late hour. Quinn ordered coffee and a sample platter of appetizers to give them an excuse to linger while they talked.
    Lincoln had found. “Yes. She attended a two-week camp sponsored by the Chicago Museum of Art when she was sixteen. She must have met Rita Beck then. And since I don’t remember seeing Rita on the camp
    roster, it explains why I missed finding the connection.”
    “I thought it was Amy, but I’m not exactly in a position to ask Mrs.
    Beck.”
    “Why not?”
    “I’m trying to prove that Grant Danford did not murder her daughter.”
    Quinn winced. “The case you’ve been working the last two months, the guy serving a life sentence.”
    “Rita was twentyfive when she disappeared. Her body turned up eight years later buried on Grant Danford’s estate. A witness placed Grant and Rita together the last day she was known to be alive, contradicting his statements to the police. The jury came back with a murder conviction.”
    “You think he’s innocent?”
    “His sister does; she hired me. After two months of looking at the case— I think there’s a whole lot more there than what came out at the trial. Not that Grant is helping me much. The man is being a royal pain to work with, asking questions in answer to my questions instead of giving me straight answers. I’ve been interviewing everyone involved in the case that I can find.”
    Quinn considered his friend, thought about it. Lincoln chose the cases he worked these days. He wouldn’t have taken this one, stayed with it this long, if he didn’t have a gut instinct there was something to find. The sister probably sincerely believed Grant was innocent—and Lincoln had never been able to turn down a plea from a lady. Quinn wished him luck. Clearing a guy already in prison was a tough challenge.
    “Why were you at the gallery tonight?”
    “Filling in background, looking for people who knew Rita.”
    “Seeing who came to see her pictures.” If Grant really was innocent —killers tended to return to their victims, even years later.
    Lincoln nodded. “Footwork. I’m doing a lot more of it now that