The Forgotten Man

THE FORGOTTEN MAN A Q.C. DAVIS MYSTERY LISA M. LILLY SPINY WOMAN PRESS Copyright © 2023 by Lisa M. Lilly All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Created with Vellum CONTENTS 1. A Likely Suspect 2. The Interview 3. Parents Twice Over 4. The Chief 5. Connections 6. Relying On The Facts 7. Quille Gets Questioned 8. Revelation 9. The Unwanted Child 10. Another View 11. Sister Talk 12. Store Stalking 13. The Photographer 14. The Older Cousin 15. To Be Honest 16. Between The Lines 17. Negotiating 18. The Not So Good Son 19. Credit 20. Other Crimes 21. Guilt 22. Unhappy Truths 23. Tracking 24. Who Saw Her Last 25. The Tiara 26. After The Recital 27. The Search 28. Courting Questions 29. Not The Brightest Bulb 30. The Surprise Guest 31. Getting What You Want 32. Sympathy 33. An Ex-Wife Speaks 34. Mr. And Mrs. Smith 35. Another Ex 36. Suspicion 37. Not Who You Think 38. Unfinished Stories 39. What He Said 40. Who It Was 41. Choices 42. Whiskey Talks 43. The Old Days 44. What The Neighbor Knew 45. Angry Sister 46. Gossip 47. Favors 48. Childhood 49. Revelations 50. Running in Circles 51. Photographs And Memories 52. My Father’s Girl 53. Into The Woods 54. Playing The Odds 55. Chicago Again 56. Sweet Boy 57. Going Back 58. The Wrong Path 59. Unremarkable 60. Not Pong 61. Not Quite Leads 62. The Hunt For Colleen 63. In Transit 64. Family Matters 65. Nothing But Respect 66. Your Sister Might See You Now 67. Running Down The Man 68. The Prodigal Child 69. Motives 70. The Right Environment 71. The Bigger Fish 72. Putting The Pieces Together 73. Striking Out 74. Shelter From The Storm 75. No Escape 76. The Sheriff 77. End Of Lies 78. The Time It Takes About the Author Also by Lisa M. Lilly 1 A LIKELY SUSPECT It’s not every day you interview the man who might have murdered your sister. I leaned into the airport restroom mirror and dotted concealer over the dark circles under my eyes, then brushed lint from the jacket of my suit. It was my best suit. The one I saved for appellate arguments and pitches to gain new clients. Its warm brown color set off my olive skin and nearly black hair nicely. I wanted the man I was meeting to answer questions about his daughter’s death. Like my sister, his daughter was kidnapped and killed at age five. The two girls were found in a grave together. Evidence showed the same person committed both crimes. My phone buzzed. “You wore the Armani with the red top, right?” my friend Lauren said when I answered. “Tell me you did.” “White top.” I pulled my rolling bag alongside me as I left the restroom. Lauren’s my unpaid fashion guru, especially when I desperately need to impress. Which doesn’t mean I take all her advice. Lauren sighed. “Seriously, Quille, there’s nothing wrong with color.” “Neutrals are safe. No one finds them jarring.” “I do,” Lauren said. “Did you at least rent the BMW?” I veered toward an exit, following the rental car shuttle signs. “I asked for one.” “Good. It’ll make even you like driving. Good luck. With the meeting, not the car.” Automobile exhaust and cool, humid air hit me as I stepped outside. I put my hand to my hair, which I could almost feel tightening into frizzy curls rather than the long, loose waves I worked so hard to achieve every morning. I ought to have wrangled it into a bun. But I felt more at ease with my hair down. My phone rang again as I waited in the rental car facility. It was my boyfriend. He’d planned to come with me on this trip. But at the last minute he was asked to take over a four-month project in Dubai when his boss became ill. “Isn’t it after midnight there?” I said. “Eleven-twenty. Night’s barely started.” Ty’s voice with its trace of Jamaican lilt sounded warm and upbeat, making me miss him more. “Good flight?” “Yes.” I wound a few strands of hair around my fingers. “I rewrote my questions for Ted Kev twice on the plane.” “Sorry I’m not there to help.” “You helped.” Through one of his wealthiest commercial real estate clients, Ty knew someone who introduced me to the person who got me onto the calendar of Ted Kev, the man I was seeing today. While I appreciated Ty using his contacts, and I missed him, I felt secretly relieved he couldn’t join me. His efforts to assist in person when I looked into crimes didn’t always work out. “Still not thrilled you’re starting with Kev,” he said now. “He knows the most about that part of the case.” I put a hand over my left ear. Five feet away a man yelled at a rental agent. “If I can get him to talk about it.” Over three decades after my sister’s and Kev’s daughter’s bodies were found, the two murders remained unsolved. My parents were seen as the most likely suspects. At the very least, I hoped talking with Kev would help me understand why. “People with his level of wealth think everyone’s angling to get something from them,” Ty said. “Because usually they are. Don’t sound like one of those people and I bet he’ll talk more.” “Don’t sound like those people who want something? But I do. Want something.” “Figuring out who killed your sister means finding whoever killed Kev’s daughter,” Ty said. “You’re not asking. You’re offering to help solve his daughter’s murder.” “He won’t want my help if he’s the killer,” I said. “But he’ll want to keep tabs on what you’re doing,” Ty said.