“The witnesses didn’t get a license number. They decided to help Mr. Delmore instead.”
Rowan looked to Quinn, curious about what he was thinking. His expression was unreadable. “Well, thank you for your time.”
“I’ll be in touch when I know more,” he reassured them. “For now, all we can do is wait for Mr. Delmore to regain consciousness.”
“If he regains consciousness,” Quinn replied bitterly. “There are no givens in this situation.”
“Sadly, that’s true.”
ROWAN INSISTED ON RETURNING TO the ship, a move that fired Quinn’s anger on just about every level. She told him to remain at the hospital, but he absolutely refused to be separated from her. He was at the end of his rope and Rowan sensed an explosion was about to occur. The inevitability wasn’t enough to cause her to back down.
“I need to look at my photos.” She was firm as they entered into the employee corridor. “I need to see something.”
“What?” Quinn’s agitation was on full display. “What do you need to see?”
“I just told you.”
“You didn’t tell me why.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from lashing out at him, reminding herself that he was only being surly because he blamed himself for what happened to Fred. If they’d remained with him, odds were likely the gregarious private investigator never would’ve been attacked. Sally certainly wouldn’t have been taken. Even if the confrontation went down in the same manner, Fred would’ve had backup in the form of Quinn. They would’ve been able to fight off a group attack rather than fall victim to it.
He didn’t mean to be obnoxious, after all. His emotions were simply too much for him to contain.
“I have photos of Sally,” Rowan reminded him. “Old photos. Sometimes ... sometimes the omen shows up in previous photos I’ve taken. I’ve never been able to make it happen all the time — it seems hit or miss depending on the circumstances — but I need to look.”
Quinn watched her fumble in her pocket for her keycard. “They’re not going to kill Sally. They need her to barter for you.”
Rowan had already come to the same conclusion. “I still need to see. Also ... I want to take another photo of myself.” What she didn’t say out loud was that she wanted a photo of Quinn, too. She was officially worried about what he would do. If Fred were to die ... well ... he would go on a rampage. That couldn’t possibly end well.
“Fine.” Quinn made a growling sound deep in his throat. “Look at your photos. In fact ... I think that’s a good idea.” He perked up considerably as he rolled his neck. “I want you to stay in this room and look at your photos. I need to check on something else.”
Rowan balked. That wasn’t what she had in mind. “Where are you going?”
“To Fred’s room so I can look at his computer. He was running searches on Alexander Fletcher. He has access to a better search engine than me. I want to see if anything has come in.”
It made sense on the surface. Still, Rowan couldn’t photograph him if he slipped away. “I don’t want you to go.” The words escaped before she thought better of them. “Can’t you just look at the photos with me and then we’ll go together to Fred’s room? That makes more sense.”
“Why?” Quinn’s frustration came out to play. He was short on temper. He knew he was being unkind, acting out of sorts, but he needed a few moments to decompress. He couldn’t do that if he was worried about trampling Rowan’s feelings. “You’ll be safe here. You’ll lock the door and wait for me to come back. I’ll be safe out there. They’re not going to attack me. Besides, the odds of them being on this ship are slim. I want to check the cameras by their rooms just to be on the safe side, though. You never know. We could luck out and find they brought Sally back here.”
Oh, well, now he was just saying nonsense to make an escape, Rowan surmised. “You don’t think your men would’ve noticed if they brought Sally onboard via knifepoint? I’m not an expert, but I’m pretty sure they would’ve done something about that.”
She was right, of course. Quinn still needed air. He hated hurting her, barking at her for no good reason. He needed a few minutes to regroup. “I won’t be gone long,” he promised. “I’m going to run to Fred’s room and my office. We’re talking thirty minutes here at the most. As long as you remain in this room, you’ll be perfectly safe.”
“But ... .”
“Please.” His eyes filled with an emotion that Rowan couldn’t easily read. “I need to do this. It’s important. We’re just waiting around for news on Fred right now. I can’t stand the waiting. I need to be proactive.”
And there it was. He needed something she didn’t want to give but physically could. So, she would do it. “Fine. Don’t leave me here and run off to be a hero, though. We’re supposed to do this together. You’re the one always hammering that into my head. If you leave me behind, I’m going to be royally ticked.”
“Fair enough.” He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “I just need a bit of time. I don’t mean to snap at you.”
Rowan had no doubt that was true. She wasn’t upset by his agitation. Oh, she was worried, but her feelings weren’t hurt. “I’ll be here when you get back. If I find something, I’ll text you.”
“Great. I’ll do the same.” On impulse, he pulled her in for a hug. “We’re not going to lose either of them. I won’t let it happen. Fred is a tough guy. He’s been through way worse than this.”
Rowan couldn’t decide if he was saying it for her benefit or his, but she agreed wholeheartedly. “They’re family,” she offered. “They’re going to be fine. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”
“We always do,” he agreed. “I’ll be back.” One more kiss, this one directly in the center of her forehead. “If we’re lucky, his search will have turned up something we can use. That’s really what we need right now, a break.”
“We’ll get one.” Rowan squeezed his hand. “Hurry back.”
“Count on it.”
17
Seventeen
The first order of business was to find an old photo of Sally. Rowan had one in a frame on her nightstand — it was a gift from Sally, a gesture Rowan had been genuinely touched by because she’d never had a friend quite like the charismatic cook — but the omen never showed up out of the blue on prints. She needed a digital photo.
She had a file on her desktop. Unfortunately, not all of the photos were taken by her. Some were snapped by Quinn, still others by Demarcus. She couldn’t remember which ones she’d taken. That meant she had to go through them all. It took her longer than she thought it would. When she was finished, she let out a shaky breath. The omen wasn’t present.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything, of course. She had no proof the omen always showed up in old photos when new danger arrived. She’d noticed the phenomenon once or twice, but she’d never had the opportunity to test it. For now, she would simply have to be happy with what she had.
On a whim, she opened another photo. This one contained snapshots of a lazy afternoon spent at Nick’s beach house. Fred was there, as was her father and uncle. Quinn was there, too. She’d taken a decent number of the photos, so she was reasonably sure everything would be okay for those she loved by the time she got to the end. Nick, Paul, and Quinn appeared to be free of the omen. Fred was only in four photos, but he was clear, too. She was hopeful that meant he would survive the surgery and be back to his skirt-chasing ways without much delay.
That only left one thing to do.
She gripped the camera and turned it upon herself. She didn’t smile. This wasn’t a happy moment to mark in her memory. She snapped three photos in quick succession, and then shifted the device so she could study the images on the back. Before she could even focus on the first one, though, there was a knock at the door.
She was so surprised she almost dropped the camera as she cast a look over her shoulder. She nearly called out “come in” before she real
ized how ridiculous that sounded. The door was locked, the security bar Quinn insisted she use firmly in place. Nobody could get into the room — including Quinn — unless she allowed it.
Carefully, Rowan lowered the camera to the bed and climbed to her feet. She was leery as she made her way to the door, padding on bare feet, her heart thudding so loudly she was afraid the individual on the other side could hear it.
She ran her tongue over her teeth, uncertain, and then moved to the peephole so she could look out. There was no one there.
She shifted from one foot to the other, antsy and agitated. On a whim, she looked again. The corridor was empty. Well, at least as far as she could see. Her angle wasn’t great. She could only see a few feet in either direction. There was definitely no one waiting for her on the other side of the door, though.
It would be stupid to throw it open and stick her head out. If the representatives from the Phoenix Society were trying to grab her, they might think this was their only shot. Of course, how they’d managed to get down the hallway in the first place was a mystery. Quinn made sure updated card readers were installed at every access point. Absolutely nobody who wasn’t employed by The Bounding Storm’s parent company should’ve been able to cross the threshold.
Then something occurred to her. Michael. He was the captain. He had a keycard that could gain him access anywhere. He could’ve easily fobbed one of the Phoenix Society peeps through the door. Right now, one of them — or perhaps all of them — could be waiting just out of her line of sight. If she opened the door to look, they would grab her. That wouldn’t go over well with Quinn, and she could hardly blame him. That was the stupid thing to do.
She took a step away from the door. Her phone was resting on the bed. What would a smart person do? A smart person would text their overprotective boyfriend and wait for him and the cavalry to arrive.
Something caught her attention on the floor before she could follow through. It was a folded piece of paper.
Her anxiety returned full force as she bent over to grab it. Even before she opened the note — for that’s what it was — she knew what it would say. She wasn’t disappointed, or surprised by the hastily scrawled message. Honestly, it was the only move they had left. They were obviously going to play that card, even though it seemed like a weak attempt.
If you want to see Sally alive, you’ll come to the abandoned building at the corner of Jesuit and Priest. Come alone. If you bring anyone with you, she’ll die.
That was it. That’s all the note said. There was finally an option in front of them. Unfortunately for Rowan, it was the only one she didn’t want to face alone ... and she didn’t see where she had much choice.
QUINN TOOK FRED’S COMPUTER TO HIS office so he could multitask. In truth, the second he separated from Rowan, the bitterness he’d been hoarding like gold started to dissipate. She wasn’t the one who deserved his ire. He understood that, accepted it. She was simply the only one who was handy and he needed to vent his rage.
He blamed himself. Who else should he blame? Fred was only involved in this case because Quinn asked him for a favor. He should’ve thought about what was best for his friend rather than what he needed from him. It was too late to change that, though. Hopefully he would have a chance to apologize.
As for Sally, her inclusion in this conundrum was more troublesome. Rowan said she was going to explain what was going on to her friend as soon as she got the chance. That opening never came, though. Before she could even get comfortable with what was happening, she found out she was living under a death omen. There was no way Rowan could volunteer that information to Sally. The overbearing chef would lash herself to Rowan to make sure she was never alone and take over even though she had good intentions. It would’ve been a nightmare.
So, now they had an even bigger problem. Sally was in the middle of this and she had no idea what was going on. She would push her captors to the breaking point. Quinn could only hope they proposed a trade before that happened. That would obviously have to be their move. They were fresh out of other options given what happened to Fred.
“Here you are.” Paul appeared in the open doorway, giving Quinn a jolt. “Where have you been? Oh, and why have you stopped answering your texts? We’ve been looking all over for you.”
Quinn was taken aback by the intrusion. “I ... what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” Paul’s expression was dark. “Actually, I’m looking for my daughter. I don’t much care what’s going on with you right now.”
The declaration cut to the quick. However, Quinn didn’t miss a beat with his recovery. It wasn’t hard to put himself in Paul’s shoes. If the older man had disappeared with Rowan and ignored text messages at a time like this, Quinn would’ve been livid.
“I’m sorry.” He held up his hands in capitulation. “I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve called you before we came back to the ship. It’s just ... there’s a lot going on.”
“Like what?”
“Like Fred has been stabbed and Sally is missing. She’s been kidnapped. The witness description seems to indicate that Spencer and one of the women — I’m honestly not sure which one, but it probably doesn’t matter — attacked Fred and took Sally. My guess is they want to use her as leverage.”
Paul was flabbergasted. “W-what?” He staggered to one of the chairs across from Quinn’s desk and sank in. “How can that possibly be true?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been wondering that myself. It’s definitely true, though. Sally has been taken and Fred is in surgery. I wanted to stay at the hospital, but I couldn’t swing that. We have to find Sally.”
Paul licked his lips and ran the new information through his head. “They’re moving now. How come?”
Quinn hadn’t given much thought to that question. “I don’t know. It does seem like a weird choice. Maybe they always planned on this move, though. Maybe they have an entire escape plan already in place. They had a car waiting when they took Sally. That seems to indicate pre-planning to me.”
“I would say so.” Paul stroked his chin. “Where is Rowan? She has to be freaking out.”
“She’s handling it better than me.” Quinn turned rueful. “I kind of melted down for a little bit. As for Ro, she’s locked in her room. She’s insisting on looking at photographs of Sally to see if the omen is present.”
“But ... how did she get new photographs of Sally?”
“Not new photos. Old ones. Sometimes the omen will pop up in old ones and that’s what she’s looking for.”
“Really? I didn’t know that was a thing.”
“It probably started happening after you left.”
Paul scowled. “I love how you always bring that up.”
Quinn shrugged, his lips curving in an unbidden smile. “It honestly wasn’t on purpose this time. I didn’t mean it as a dig. I’m not sure how reliable the phenomenon is. We can’t do anything until they contact us for the trade so I figure it can’t hurt to let her do her thing and take a bit of time for herself.”
“Fair enough. What about you? How are you feeling?”
“Not good. Fred’s not guaranteed to survive the surgery. I should be there with him ... and yet I can’t. I need to find Sally.”
“Because Rowan will have a broken heart forever if something happens to her.”
“That’s only part of it. I’m chief of security. Sally is my responsibility.”
Paul waited a beat, silent.
“But mostly because it will kill Rowan,” Quinn conceded, causing Paul to shake his head and laugh. “I love Sally, too. She’s been a good friend to both Rowan and me. She doesn’t deserve to be in this situation. She doesn’t even know what’s going on. We got distracted and didn’t tell her. She’s at a total disadvantage.”
“They have to know that killing her will get them nothing. They think we’ll trade Rowan for her and that’s what they’re holding out for. Of course, we can’t trade Rowan. What are we going to do?”
“It doesn’t,” Paul agreed, climbing to his feet. “What are you doing here?” He gestured toward the computer. “Do you expect to find answers?”
“Fred was running some long-term searches on Alexander Fletcher. I’m trying to figure out if he stumbled across anything that will be useful to us.”
“Have you found anything?”
“I just started looking.” Quinn clicked on the active searches the computer was running and rubbed his forehead as he stared at the screen. “I need to search through these and then get back to Rowan. I promised her I wouldn’t be gone long.”
“I’ll be going with you to check on her. I won’t be able to settle if I don’t see her with my own eyes.”
“Fair enough.” Quinn furrowed his brow as he sorted through the first information stream. “Huh. This is interesting. It says that Alexander Fletcher is the son of Henry Gibson Fletcher. Do you know who that is?”
When Paul didn’t immediately answer, Quinn slanted his gaze to him ... and found the man was as white as a sheet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, fighting a sudden wave of panic. “What is it?”
“Are you sure that he’s the son of Henry Gibson Fletcher?”
“Yeah. Why is that important?”
“Because ... well ... because ... oh, geez.” Paul slapped his hand to his forehead and started vigorously rubbing. “I can’t believe this is happening. Worse, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. It makes sense now.”
“What makes sense?” Quinn was at the end of his rope. “What’s going on?”
Paul sucked in a steadying breath. “Henry Gibson Fletcher was my father-in-law.”
Whatever he was expecting, that wasn’t it. Quinn’s breath came out in a whoosh. “What? No. I ran Rowan’s mother back when I was looking for you. Her name was Caroline Gentry. She was from Michigan.”
Raging Seas (A Rowan Gray Mystery Book 9) Page 16
