Goddamn it, wake up!” Quinn opened his bleary eyes. His head hurt like hell and he felt really groggy. “Huh? What?” “Wake up and get your act together,” Jace Morgan told him. “The police are on their way here. You’ve got to be alert when they get here because they’re going to ask you a lot of questions.” Quinn sat up in bed, scooted himself around and eased his legs off the side. The last thing he remembered was talking to Annabelle, then finishing off a glass of iced tea. He glanced at the nightstand. The glass wasn’t there. Where was it? Had he taken it back down to the kitchen? Shit! Did I have another blackout spell? “Look, I know you didn’t do it, okay,” Jace said. “But the police are going to want to know how it happened. Did you hear anything? See anything?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Quinn rubbed his aching head. “You mean you don’t know or do you just not remember?” “Know what? Remember what?” “Marcy’s dead.” Jace’s voice trembled.
