“I haven’t seen you at Mom and Dad’s house for a long time.”
Astrid removed the hand she’d been combing her boyfriend’s back with, and slapped the front of her jeans, diverting the conversation. “Come say hi, Jacob. I won’t bite.”
“He’s fine where he is right now,” Quinn replied.
Astrid ignored her and stretched a stiff hand toward Jacob. He ducked behind Quinn again.
“Don’t hog him all to yourself, Quinn. Let me take him for the day. Go out. Get some fresh air. You look like you need it.”
“You have no idea what I need.”
“Girls.” Quinn’s mother spread her arms out between her two daughters. “Please.”
Quinn could see the rivalry and wounded feelings she carried for her sister left their mother pained, which in turn, gave her pain. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Astrid shot Quinn a dirty look that said: kiss ass.
Deciding now was a good time to make a formal introduction, Astrid’s boyfriend pushed a clammy hand toward Quinn. She looked at it, didn’t take it.
“Name’s Eugene. Nice to meet you.”
“Eugene’s going to be the next state senator,” Astrid bragged.
Quinn looked Eugene in the eye, now realizing where she’d seen him before. On television, talking about his plan to win the next election. With Astrid by his side, he had to be kidding. “You two been together long?”
“Almost a month now,” Eugene said.
He beamed with pride like it was a major accomplishment.
For Astrid, it was.
Quinn’s first instinct was to say: Good luck with that.
He’d need it.
Although Astrid was known to hang around as long as the money kept flowing. And this guy had two things going for him—money and power.
“Let’s eat,” Quinn’s mother suggested. “The food’s getting cold.”
The five of them sat down. Quinn, Jacob, Astrid, Eugene, and their mother.
“Where’s Dad?” Quinn asked. “Out for a run?”
“No, I’m right here.”
Quinn glanced up, detecting a hint of uneasiness in her father’s voice when he entered the room. His face was rigid, almost haggard looking. “Is something wrong?”
Her father looked at her mother. “Jane, why don’t you take Jacob back to Quinn’s apartment for few minutes? I think there might be some blocks inside a box in the hall closet he can play with.”
“But we just sat down, Mitchell.”
Her parents stared at each other until her mother seemed to understand what her father wouldn’t verbalize. Her mom picked up Jacob’s plate of food and curled her fingers toward herself. “Come on, Jacob. Let’s see what toys we can find, shall we?”
Jacob shook his head, refusing to move from his seat next to Quinn.
“Jacob,” Quinn prompted. “I think I saw some chocolate bars in the freezer over there. If you go with my mom, I bet she’ll give you one after you finish your breakfast. I’ll come over in a few minutes, and we can play, okay? I’m not going anywhere. Promise.”
He slid off the chair, bowed his head, followed Jane out of the room. Once he was out of earshot, her father continued. “I just got off the phone with Bo.”
Quinn failed to see why a conversation with Bo warranted Jacob’s removal from the house. “Whatever he said, I don’t want to know.” She backed her chair away from the table. Stood. There would be no forced conversation about Bo, especially in front of her sister.
“You’ll want to hear what I have to say, Quinn,” her father continued. “And even if you don’t think you want to—you need to, okay?”
“Why?”
Astrid remained still and kept her mouth shut, which wasn’t like her.
“The phone call had nothing to do with you,” her father said. “It concerns Roman.”
“What about Roman?” Quinn asked.
“I heard Evie forgot to change the beneficiary of her life insurance policy after the divorce,” Astrid said. “Roman was to inherit half a million dollars. You know, people are saying he murdered Evie.”
Quinn spun around. “What people?”
“You’re not the only one with friends here. My friend Alicia said the cops have evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Some shoe print they found at the crime scene matches with a shoe they found in Roman’s closet.”
Quinn thought about her conversation with Roman the day before, about how he’d said the cops hadn’t found anything because there was nothing to find. Why did he lie? Or did he say it because he was innocent and knew the shoe wouldn’t amount to anything?
“So what?” Quinn replied. “It means nothing. They share a son together. They share custody. He’s over there all the time.”
“Think about it, Quinn,” Astrid said. “It makes sense. First the shoe, now the life insurance policy.”
Quinn didn’t believe it. She couldn’t.
“You don’t know him,” she said. “Roman loved Evie. Stop spreading lies about something you know nothing about.”
“What is your friggin’ deal, Quinn?”
“What’s my deal? You’re the one—”
“Roman’s dead,” her father interrupted.
His words, though short and simple, took several seconds for Quinn to process. “What do you mean, Dad? How?”
“Bo went with another officer to Roman’s place this morning to talk to him about something, and—”
“Wait—why is Bo involved?”
“Don’t you know anything?” Astrid said. “Bo’s some kind of detective now.”
She didn’t know. After she broke things off with him, Quinn asked her parents not to mention Bo to her. Ever. Not that they hadn’t tried. Her mother had made it known on several occasions that she wished Quinn would confide in her about the real reason she’d ended things with him. Her mother didn’t need to know. It would grieve her even more if she did.
“As I was saying,” her father continued, “Bo arrived at Roman’s house this morning, saw his pickup parked out front, but he wasn’t answering the door or his phone. Door was unlocked, so Bo announced himself and went inside. Found Evie’s dog scratching at the bedroom door. When he looked inside, he saw Roman lying on the bed. His body was stiff, cold to the touch. Bo checked for a pulse. There wasn’t one.”
“How did he die?”
“Bo found a couple pill bottles on the nightstand. Nembutal and fluoxetine hydrochloride.”
Quinn’s heart throbbed inside her chest like it was trying to fight its way out. “Fluoxe ... what?”
“One was for depression, the other to help him sleep.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying he overdosed on pills?”
“Not just pills. Bo said Roman had a blood alcohol concentration level around a .30.”
“So he killed himself?”
“No, honey,” her father replied. “The ME will run tests, of course, but Bo thinks Roman’s death was an accident, not intentional. And I’m inclined to believe him.”
CHAPTER 11
Quinn knew what was coming next, knew who was coming. And it didn’t take long before Bo was parked on her parents’ driveway. Quinn fled, taking refuge in what her mother now called “the craft room,” even though at one time, the room had been hers.
She wanted a minute. Just one minute to herself. To think. To breathe.
Breathing.
Someone was behind her.
She looked back.
“Go away, Astrid. I want to be alone.”
Astrid twirled a several-week-old, half-polished finger around a strand of hair. “Bo’s here. He just pulled up.”
“I’m aware.”
“You should talk to him.”
Astrid’s words were spoken as more of a challenge than sisterly advice. More: Do it. I dare ya, sis.
“I will when I’m ready. I need some time to myself. So, if you don’t mind ...”
“Dad said Marcus called today. I bet
if you begged, he’d take you back.”
“I see Dad filled you in on what happened.”
Astrid grinned, leaned her shoulder against the wall. “He didn’t. Mom did. Good decision, by the way. I never liked him.”
“Why, because he’s the only man in my life you’ve never slept with?”
It was harsh. Maybe too harsh even for Astrid. If it had been any other day, she might have cared. Today she didn’t.
Eugene entered the room, draped his arms around Astrid’s shoulders, lectured Quinn like he was her father. “How could you talk to her like that? She’s your sister.”
“Stay out of it, Eugene,” Quinn replied. “This isn’t your business.”
“You’re wrong. We’re involved. Her life is my life now—her business, my business.”
The fact any man was foolish enough to think he could ever have a functional relationship with Astrid almost sent Quinn into hysterics.
“You don’t have any idea who you’re involved with,” Quinn shot back. “If you did, you’d run before she destroys your life like she does everyone else’s. Or don’t. Stick it out. See what happens.”
Astrid shot daggers in her direction. Quinn waved a hand through the air, stopping her from saying anything more. “We’re done talking, fighting, whatever you want to call it. I need to check on Jacob.”
Quinn exited the room, a rise of emotions mounting inside like a wave ready to crest. It couldn’t go up, only out, and she knew it. Her eyes blurred with tears. She refused to let them fall. Vision unclear, her body smacked into something solid. Hard. She stepped back.
Bo placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hey ... you okay?”
She considered saying something nice, but pleasantries didn’t prevail in the end. “Are you looking for Astrid?”
“What? No. Why would I? I was looking for you.”
Astrid poked her head out of the doorway, titillated with excitement as she drank Bo in. Her voice changed, the octave increasing the more she spoke. “Well, hi there, stranger. Long time.”
Bo looked past Quinn, swallowed hard. “Hey.”
His words were flat, emotionless.
“Looks like the two of you have a lot of catching up to do,” Quinn said. “Maybe you should go somewhere and talk. It will just be like old times. Right?”
The quip pained Bo. Quinn could see it on his face. She didn’t want to care. Didn’t want to feel bad, even though she did.
She stormed past him, her shoulder banging into the side of his.
“Quinn, stop,” Bo said. “Hold on a minute.”
She made it to the front porch before her legs buckled beneath her. A hand looped around her waist as she went down.
“I can’t breathe,” she said.
“Yes, you can. Take it slow.”
“Bo, don’t. I’m fine. You can let go.”
“No, Quinn. I won’t. I’m never letting go of you again.”
CHAPTER 12
Quinn glanced through the windshield of her father’s car, absorbed the awe-inspiring view of the Shoshone River before her. Watching the gentle ease of the water’s flow calmed her, uncluttered her mind. She loved this spot. Her spot. The place she’d been coming to since she was old enough to drive. The lush scenery allowed her to collect her thoughts. Process. On this mountaintop, she could think, make decisions, make sense of things—when she was alone.
Unfortunately today she wasn’t.
Quinn exited her car and walked to the truck idling to her right, tapping on the pane of glass on the driver’s-side door with the tip of a finger.
The window lowered.
“How long are you going to stare at me through the window?” Quinn asked.
“Until you’re ready to have a real conversation,” Bo replied.
“Are you going to keep following me around until I do?”
“Will you ever talk to me if I don’t?”
Good question.
Yesterday the answer would have been a firm no. Now it was a pliable maybe. Over time, she’d become an expert at keeping people at arm’s length, pushing so many people away, sometimes it felt as though she had no fight left in her.
With Evie dead and her marriage over, she didn’t have the will or the desire to do it anymore. It wasn’t who she wanted to be.
“We’re talking right now,” she said.
“You know what I mean, Quinn.”
“Why is it so important to you? We haven’t seen each other in years.”
“If you wouldn’t have avoided me for so long, we could have done this a long time ago.”
“If I wanted to talk to you, I would have.”
Bo lifted a blanket out of the back seat of his truck, opened the door, stepped outside. “Let’s sit for a few minutes. What do you say?”
“I don’t know. I should be getting back.”
“Jacob’s in good hands. If he wakes up from his nap, your parents will call. You know they will.” He spread the blanket over a weedy patch of hillside. “You coming?”
Arms crossed in front of her, she pondered the offer. “How will talking now make things any different?”
“Guess we won’t know until we try. It’s long overdue, Quinn. I know it. So do you.”
She walked over, sat on the far edge of the blanket, a few feet away from him. He looked away, trying to disguise the obvious fact that he was laughing.
“What?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” he said, hands raised. “Sit as far from me as you can if you like. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Several moments passed.
“Are we talking, or what?” she asked.
He scooted over, ran his fingers along the lower half of her arm. She flinched.
“Can you just ... not touch me please?”
He nodded, withdrew his hand. “Remember when we used to come here?”
Of course she remembered. Touching her the way he used to, sitting here the way they used to—it all triggered the past. A past she’d worked hard to forget. “I remember.”
“When I think about the best memories of my life, every single one of them was spent with you.”
“You know I’m married, right?” she asked.
“Are you though? Are you really?”
Was there anyone her parents hadn’t told?
“On paper I am. For now.”
“We talked about getting married too. You and me. Remember? Then you took off on spring break, and the next thing I knew, you were strutting around town with some other guy’s ring on your finger. I tried so many times to talk to you, but you shut me out, chose to marry a guy you barely knew, and move away. You said you’d never leave here. Never leave your home. But you did.”
It made sense now why he wanted to reconnect, why he was pushing so hard, allowing a bunch of “what ifs” to cloud his mind. It was like she could hear his thoughts: What if she gets a divorce? What if there’s still a chance she’ll come back to me?
Or maybe he just wanted to clear his conscience.
A closed window had cracked open, and Bo wanted to make sure it didn’t close again. Though, she didn’t know why.
Quinn assumed by now Bo would have married, fathered a few children. He never had. Why? After all this time, she couldn’t have been the reason. Could she? Living in a different state had protected her from seeing anyone else’s perspective but her own, her anger crippling her until she was blinded. Looking at him now, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d made a rash decision. Was there a chance she’d been wrong?
“Bo, I’m not sure what you want me to say,” she said.
“Why did you do it? Why did you marry him?”
“You know why. I saw you that night. With her. With my sister.”
Even now, she still choked on the words as she released them.
“I’ll tell you now what I told you then—you have it all wrong.”
“I know what I saw, Bo.”
“And just what do you think you saw?”
She looked away. “I don’t want to talk about this. Have you ever wondered why I stayed away? Why I don’t like coming back here? I don’t want to think about it. It’s in the past. Let it stay there. Please.”
“Once, just once, have this conversation with me, and I swear I’ll never bring it up again.”
“I saw you kissing her. Your hand on Astrid’s breast! Do I really need to keep going?”
Quinn plunged her shaking hands into the pockets of her sweater.
“You saw your sister kiss me, Quinn. Not the other way around. Where was her hand when mine was over her chest? Do you even remember?”
As vivid as if it was happening in front of her now.
“Over yours. What difference does it make?”
“I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me. She took my hand and shoved it down her top when she saw you coming.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Hell if I know. You came in, saw what you thought was me making a move on her, and that was it. She blamed me for everything, and you believed her. Even after I tried to explain myself, you took her side. Ran to the arms of someone else. You have no idea what that did to me.”
“Did you really think I married another man because you groped her boob?”
“Didn’t you?” he asked.
“You slept with her, Bo. There was no need for a conversation. We were done.”
His head shook so fast it looked like it was about to spin off. “What are you talking about? I have never been with your sister. What you saw that night was it. Nothing else happened. Ever.”
He was lying. He had to be.
“Astrid explained everything. She might be a lot of things, but I can’t believe she’d lie to me about the one thing she knew could hurt me more than anything.”
“This is Astrid we’re talking about.”
“It was more than words though,” she said. “Astrid had proof.”
“What proof?”
“She showed me the notes you wrote her, the ones saying you wanted to be with her and not me.”
He pulled at the back of his hair so hard, it looked like he was going to yank the strands from their roots. “Quinn, I’ve never written Astrid a note in my life.”
“You did, Bo. I saw them with my own eyes. They were in your handwriting. There’s no reason to deny it now.”
A View to a Kill Page 5
