The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8)

by Shapiro, Irina

  “And speaking of volatile relationships, things seemed pretty tense between you and Jo earlier,” Gabe said.

  Quinn sighed dramatically. A part of her wanted to talk to Gabe about Jo, but another part wanted to think things over privately until she could figure out exactly what was happening between them. The Jo she’d met in Germany a few months ago was nothing like the woman she was dealing with now. Fear and uncertainty had been replaced with irritability and, at times, aggression. It was as if Jo was blaming her for something, but for the life of her, Quinn couldn’t figure out what she’d done to offend her. Could Jo still be upset that Quinn had told Gabe about her child? But she’d apologized for that, and Jo seemed to have moved past it. Quinn thought Jo’s sudden abrasiveness had something to do with her father’s letter, but that theory was based on nothing more than speculation, since she had no idea what the letter had said. It might have had nothing whatsoever to do with Jo’s sudden animosity.

  “I just don’t understand her, Gabe,” Quinn replied at last. “She asked me to help her find her daughter, then she left London without a word of explanation, and now she’s acting as if I overstepped some unseen boundary. If she’s changed her mind about looking for her child, that’s her affair, but why is she angry with me?”

  “Because now you know.”

  “Know what, exactly?”

  “Now you know that she abandoned her child, much as Sylvia had abandoned you two. Perhaps she doesn’t like the parallels and thinks you’re judging her, as she herself judged Sylvia.”

  “But I’m not. Many women give up their children for adoption. They have their reasons, and it’s not for me to judge them.”

  “No, but Jo’s story bears striking similarities to Sylvia’s, and given how both you and Jo felt about Sylvia all your lives, she probably assumes that you feel much the same about her.”

  “Yes, you’re probably right, and there’s very little I can do to change her mind,” Quinn conceded. “Gabe, I think Jo knows where her daughter is.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because earlier today, she called her Daisy. I think it was a slip of the tongue. That letter from her father revealed more than she’s letting on,” Quinn explained.

  “Maybe so, but she clearly has no wish to tell you what it said. Quinn, I know you’re bitterly disappointed, but you can’t force Jo to be who you want her to be.”

  “She seemed so different when I met her in Germany.”

  “She was hurt and alone, and probably more than curious about you, as well. She’s not nearly as vulnerable as she was then.”

  “You mean, she doesn’t need me.”

  “Probably not as much as you need her, love,” Gabe said gently. “I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts you.”

  Quinn laid her head on Gabe’s shoulder. “It does hurt, but just as with Sylvia, I have to adjust my expectations.” Lifting her face to Gabe’s, Quinn gave a bitter chuckle. “Judging by the expression on your face, I think I should probably give up any expectations I have altogether. Of everyone.”

  “You said it, not me,” Gabe replied. The fact that he hadn’t contradicted her told Quinn everything she needed to know. “Have you spoken to Seth?”

  “Not since he told me about Brett’s release.” As much as Quinn could understand Seth’s feelings, she felt as if her soul had been laid bare in the past twenty-four hours, the shadowy corner where she kept her fears locked up blown open, and a searchlight directed into its murky depths.

  “Quinn, you have nothing to fear,” Gabe said, gently stroking her back as if she were a colicky baby.

  “I know, but knowing that he’s out there, free to do as he wishes, makes me feel surprisingly vulnerable.”

  “New Orleans is a long way from London. Brett will never trouble you again, not if he knows what’s good for him.”

  Quinn lifted her face to meet Gabe’s gaze. “Gabe, if Brett had known what was good for him, he’d simply have told me how he felt instead of trying to erase me from his life, like a persistent stain. No matter how threatened they feel, few people will cross the line between wishing someone dead and taking steps to kill them. I know I have nothing to fear from him, but there’s a part of me that will never feel completely safe again. He’s taken that from me. He’s stolen the sense of security I took for granted for more than thirty years. And I don’t think I’ll ever get it back, especially now that he’s free.”

  She expected Gabe to talk her out of her fears, but Gabe simply pulled her closer and brushed his lips against her temple. “I know,” he said softly. “I know.”

  Chapter 31

  The following morning, with rays of June sunlight pouring through the wide windows of the study and shining a light on the gloomy thoughts of last night, Quinn decided that she was ready to do some online research into the Edevane family. She’d intended to wait for Colin’s report, but that didn’t seem to be forthcoming and she needed to verify if there were any living descendants Rhys needed to consult. Gabe and the children had just left for the park, and she had at least an hour to herself. No sooner did she power up her laptop than a text popped up on her mobile.

  “Can I come round?” Jude wrote.

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  “Sure.”

  It made no sense to get started if she was to get interrupted in a few minutes, so Quinn went down to the kitchen to make some coffee. Not five minutes later, Jude was at the door. He’d got a haircut, and his dark-blond locks, which usually framed his face in artful disarray, were now shorn close to the scalp, making him look more mature. He’d also given up his uniform of jeans and a t-shirt for a pair of smart trousers and a cambric shirt. Had he been wearing a tie, Quinn would have been seriously suspicious.

  “You’re out early,” she said as she invited him into the kitchen. “Want some coffee?”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  “I’ll bring it out into the garden. It’s too nice a day to remain indoors.”

  Jude stepped outside, and Quinn followed with two steaming mugs a minute later. She set them on the wrought-iron table and took a seat across from Jude. He looked different somehow, and it wasn’t just his unusual attire and short hair. Quinn studied him from beneath her lashes as she took a sip of coffee, and then it came to her. Jude usually looked dejected, but today there was determination in his face and a defiant set to his shoulders. He also had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he were seeing something in his mind that both frightened and excited him.

  “Are you all right?” Quinn asked. It was a banal question, but she wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of his recovery.

  “I’ve come to say goodbye, Quinn.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Away.” Jude set down his mug and rested his elbows on his legs, his hands dangling between his knees. He stared straight ahead, as if he were working himself up to some big declaration. “I’ve joined the army.”

  “You did what?” Quinn cried. Had Jude announced that he’d joined the circus, she’d have been less shocked.

  “You heard me. I signed my life away an hour ago.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you join the army? You’re a musician, for God’s sake.”

  Jude looked at Quinn and grinned, his light eyes sparkling with amusement. “Quinn, Logan burned through his life savings to help me. He can’t even afford a place of his own, thanks to me. I owe it to him not to cock this up, and if I remain here, at home with Mum, I’ll relapse for sure. The army will keep me on the straight and narrow. I’ll have no access to my old friends or dealers. I’ll have no choice but to remain clean. And I will acquire marketable skills that I can rely on once I’ve been discharged from the army. I’ll always love music, but I can’t make a career of it, not if I hope to stay off drugs for any length of time. I’d like to become a medic,” Jude said shyly.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I want to help people, as people have helped me. I want my li
fe to mean something, Quinn. I don’t want to be a cautionary tale.”

  “Do Sylvia and Logan know what you’ve done?” Quinn asked carefully.

  “Logan does. I told him this morning, but I haven’t told Mum yet. She won’t be best pleased and will probably make this all about her and how she feels, but my mind is made up.”

  “Jude, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. The army is not what I would have imagined for you, but you’re right, maybe it’s exactly what you need.”

  “I have to get going. I have a few more stops to make. I’m going to see Bridget.”

  Quinn nodded. She could understand Jude’s need to say goodbye to the girl who’d been his kryptonite for the past few years. She only hoped that Bridget wouldn’t sweettalk him into one last hit, or one last shag.

  “She blames herself for what happened,” Jude explained. “I have to tell her it wasn’t her fault. I’m the one to blame. For everything.”

  Quinn’s gaze strayed to Jude’s neck. The scars left by the belt were no longer visible, but the emotional scars would take longer to heal. “Be safe, Jude, and come back to us soon.”

  They both stood. Jude smiled awkwardly before reaching out to embrace her. The hug was warm and heartfelt, something Quinn had never expected from Jude.

  “I was annoyed when Mum first told us about you, but I’m glad she found you, Quinn,” Jude said as he released her. “I like having a sister.”

  “Sisters,” Quinn corrected him.

  “No, sister,” Jude replied, erasing Jo from the equation with a single word. “Kiss the children for me and tell Gabe I’m sorry for everything. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  “I know.”

  Quinn walked Jude to the door and watched him walk down the path. He hadn’t started training yet, but he was already walking like a soldier—head held high, shoulders back, spine ramrod straight. Quinn sighed and shut the door, wondering what other surprises her siblings had in store for her. She would have never imagined Jude in the army, but now that the idea was beginning to settle, she saw its merit, and appreciated Jude’s newfound maturity. At long last, he was fighting for his life. She only hoped he wouldn’t lose it fighting for his country.

  She’d just put the mugs in the sink when the doorbell chimed again. Quinn wiped her hands on a tea towel and hurried to get the door. “Did you forget something?” she asked as soon as she opened the door, assuming Jude had come back. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the person standing on her doorstep.

  “No,” she muttered. “No, you can’t be here.” Her heart galloped like a spooked horse and her knees grew weak and wobbly. She wanted to slam the door shut, but her arms wouldn’t obey. She was glued to the spot, unable to tear her gaze away from the unassuming young man who stood before her.

  “Quinn, please, I’m not going to hurt you. I need to speak to you,” Brett pleaded as he took a step backward, seeing Quinn’s obvious distress.

  Quinn couldn’t seem to find the strength to move. Cold dread had spread from her chest to her extremities. She couldn’t get enough air into her lungs, and black spots began to dance before her eyes. She leaned against the doorjamb, terrified she’d faint and leave herself at Brett’s mercy. The last time she’d seen him, they had been in the Talbot vault in New Orleans. He’d looked much as Jude always had—faded jeans, a stretched-out t-shirt, and beat-up trainers. His hair had been shaggy, and he’d had a few adolescent spots. He’d been a kid, but the person who stood before her looked like a man. His hair had been cut short in prison, and his limbs, which had been lanky, were now thick with muscle. He looked strong and fit, and dangerous.

  “You need to leave. Right now,” Quinn demanded, finally getting her voice back. “I’ll call the police if you don’t go.”

  She expected Brett to argue, to try to plead his case, but instead he sank to his knees in front of her. Tears slid down his cheeks, and his dark eyes were filled with pain. “Quinn, I humbly beg for your forgiveness. I know what I ask is impossible, given the magnitude of my crime against you, but I need you to know that I would do anything to turn back the clock and undo the wrong I did you.”

  The words sounded rehearsed, and Quinn’s fear turned into dark, pulsating fury. She was filled with energy and believed she could probably push him hard enough to make him tumble down the steps if he came at her.

  “Nothing you can say could justify what you tried to do,” she replied, her voice low and charged with anger. “I’ve heard your apology. Now go.”

  Brett rose to his feet and bowed his head in acknowledgement. “If you ever want to talk…”

  “Go!” Quinn roared.

  Brett turned and walked away, his shoulders squared, much as Jude’s had been only a few minutes before. Quinn shut the door behind him and slid to the floor, hugging her legs and resting her forehead on her knees. That was how she’d sat in the vault, huddled against the door, praying that Brett would come back and let her out. It had taken her a long time to accept that he wasn’t coming back. That what he’d done wasn’t some sick joke, or an attempt to frighten her into keeping his secret. He’d left her to die, alone in the dark, next to the remains of their ancestor Madeline, who’d also placed her trust in the wrong person and wound up not only dead but completely erased from the annals of history. Quinn began to shake violently, her teeth chattering, her forehead knocking against her knees. In her mind, she was back there, terrified and alone, hope slowly evaporating like a puddle after the rain.

  She didn’t hear the key in the lock, didn’t see Gabe wedge himself between the door and the doorjamb to get inside. He dropped to his knees in front of her. “Quinn, darling, what happened?”

  “Mum, what’s wrong?” Emma cried from beyond the door. Alex, who was still in his buggy, began to cry. Even Rufus began to growl. He burst inside and lifted himself on his paws, his warm nose pressed to Quinn’s face.

  “Quinn!” Gabe called to her when she failed to answer. He took her gently by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Are you ill? Should I call an ambulance?”

  Quinn shook her head and slumped against Gabe, needing to feel his solid presence. He wrapped his arms around her. “Brett,” she whispered. “Brett was here.”

  Gabe held her close, stroking her back gently. “It’s all right. He won’t hurt you. Come, let’s get you some water.”

  “Is Mum all right?” Emma demanded. She’d pushed her way into the house and was dragging Alex’s buggy into the foyer, so as not to leave him alone outside. Alex was howling like a banshee.

  Quinn used every bit of strength to pull herself together. “I’m all right, darling. Just had a bit of a shock, that’s all. Why don’t you put on a video for you and Alex?”

  Emma studied her face, searching for any hint of untruth, but seemed to believe her. “All right,” she mumbled. “Come, Alex.”

  She pushed the buggy into the lounge and positioned Alex in front of the television. “What do you want to watch?” she asked, sounding like a five-year-old mum. “Should I put on one of your baby shows?” she asked solicitously.

  Gabe walked Quinn into the garden and settled her in the chair she’d vacated only a short while ago, then went into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of water and placed it in her hands. “Drink.”

  Quinn gulped down the water. It did make her feel better. She set down the glass, closed her eyes, and leaned against the back of the chair, allowing herself to go slack. She took slow, deep breaths until she began to feel calmer.

  “I’m going to have a word with Seth,” Gabe said.

  She didn’t reply. She had no idea what to say.

  Chapter 32

  For a moment, Brett considered taking a taxi back to his hostel, but decided to walk instead. He was tired, having landed only a few hours before, but he needed time to think, and after having been incarcerated for over a year, he couldn’t take the simple pleasure of taking a walk for granted. He set the GPS on his phone and allowed it to lead him in
the right direction. It was a beautiful day, but not hot and humid, like June was in Louisiana. It felt more like April, or even the end of March. The air was cool and fragrant with the aroma of freshly cut grass and gardens in bloom, and the sky was the kind of blue that had nearly made him cry when he’d only been able to see it from the small window of his cell.

  He had yet to call his parents and tell them where he was, but that particular conversation would have to wait. Brett inhaled deeply and smiled to himself. What a difference forty-eight hours could make. The morning before last, he’d still been in prison. Yesterday at this time, he’d been at his hearing. And today, he was in London, a free man.

  His parents had brought him home after the hearing and his dad had taken off like a shot to the nearest supermarket to pick up supplies for a barbecue. He was going to treat Brett to a mouthwatering homecoming meal, but although Brett had looked forward to a rack of baby-back ribs smothered in barbecue sauce, freshly baked cornbread, homemade mashed potatoes, and collard greens, he couldn’t concentrate on food.

  While his mom and dad saw to dinner, he went up to his room and lay on his bed, considering his options. It’d been two hours since his release, and he knew exactly what that meant. As soon as they sat down to dinner, his parents would start in. They’d been admirably restrained on the drive back, but that wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t blame them; they’d suffered while he was inside, enough to get back together, not something he’d thought would ever happen, given that his dad had spectacularly fucked up their marriage by doing the one thing his mom could never forgive and cheating on her repeatedly. But she was willing to give him another chance, a sure sign from God that forgiveness and redemption were possible. Brett knew he owed them answers, but he didn’t have any to give. Before he could commit to a next step, he had to make peace with himself, and he couldn’t do that without seeing Quinn.

  Of course, announcing to his long-suffering mom and dad that he was flying off to London would set off a maelstrom of protests. His dad, especially, would fly off the handle. He felt awful, Brett knew that. Whereas his mom’s focus had been solely on him, Seth had to consider Quinn, and his other daughter, the one Brett had yet to meet. Seth felt guilty for helping him, torn between his loyalty to his daughter and his duty to his son. His poor dad had been put through the wringer, thanks to him. In any case, whatever he did, he had to do it soon, before anyone tipped Quinn off that he was coming. She’d never agree to see him, not that he blamed her, but he needed to speak to her, had to explain and beg for her forgiveness. He couldn’t get on with his life without her blessing.