[Oliver]
Armed with an envelope of evidence, I headed down to question Quentin. Lyall had wanted to, but he was too close to this. I didn’t want him coloring the questions or asking the wrong things because he got emotional.
The guards let me past with a nod. I organized my thoughts as I approached Quentin’s cell.
He was sitting on the cot in the cell and glared at me as I came into view. Like Lyall, he was in his late thirties. He was blond and thick. What had once been muscles had softened. Lyall told me that Quentin didn’t train as much as he used to.
“Who are you? I don’t recognize you from the pack.” Quentin growled.
“Oliver Pines.” I replied.
He chuckled mirthlessly. “Here to take my job, Pines?”
“No. I’m assisting with this investigation. I want you to answer the que
