It was obvious to Brent, the moment Constance Taylor opened her front door, that she was aware why he, Quinn, and Detective Hardin were there. She swayed for a moment, gripping the edge of the door in an effort to remain standing. Then she straightened.
“You found him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hardin replied. “I’m sorry, but…”
“Don’t! Don’t say that word. I’ve been telling myself this was how it would end, but, just…”
Her face crumpled and tears flowed. Quinn put his arm around her as she cried, before helping her walk to the living room. When she was seated on the long sofa, he said softly, “I’m so sorry.”
“There was nothing you could have done.” She looked at Hardin, after he introduced himself, and said. “I’m right, aren’t I? My boy was dead before I even hired Quinn and Brent to find him.”
