“That’s not a good sign.” “You know the thing about secrets?” I proposed, examining the floor to make sure I had gotten all the pieces. I didn’t fancy stepping on a sliver. He leaned on the doorjamb watching me, an amused expression on his face. “They always come out.” I sighed in answer. “She knocked the pictures off the counter.” “She think you’re a serial killer?” “Not sure. She was definitely freaked out, especially about the picture of her.” I stood up, dusting off my hands, and dumped the shards in the garbage. “She asked me if I was human.” Quinn laughed. “What did you tell her?” “Mostly,” I answered. “Sounds like you need a scotch. I know I do.” I handed him the garbage can and followed him out, swiping a pair of glasses and a bottle from the bar on the way to the porch.
