The Betrayed (Echoes from the Past Book 7)

by Irina Shapiro

  Chapter 35

  The morning after the dinner party, Quinn came down early. She’d had a restless night, plagued by strange dreams that left her feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all, and wanted to enjoy a cup of coffee in peace before Alex woke up. She made the coffee and took it into the front room, where she curled up on the sofa. Gabe had assured her that all had gone well, but she felt hollow, especially when she considered Jill’s announcement. She was thrilled for Jill and Brian, but a part of her wanted to weep. She’d gained a sister, but it seemed that she was well on the way to losing her closest friend.

  In the past, Jill would have rung as soon as she missed her period, would have asked Quinn to come round to offer moral support when she took the pregnancy test, but she hadn’t said a word. Jill was engaged and pregnant, and Quinn had found out about it along with everyone else, as if she were just someone Jill knew rather than her closest confidante since they were old enough to have secrets. How had this happened, and why? Was it down to Jo, or was Quinn to blame for the rift that seemed to widen with every passing day?

  Quinn finished her coffee and reached for her mobile. It took two people to grow apart, and it took two people to bridge the gap. Jill was an early riser, always had been. She’d be awake right now, enjoying a cup of tea as she checked her email and scrolled through the posts on Facebook. Quinn took a calming breath and made the call.

  “Hey,” Jill said. “Thanks for last night. It was nice.”

  “Was it?” Quinn asked, plunging right in. “Why hadn’t you told me? I can’t believe I had to find out along with everyone else.”

  “You’d have found out sooner had you made time to speak to me,” Jill replied calmly. “Look, I don’t blame you. I know you’re busy with the children and with your program. And in your spare time, you’re hanging out with Jo. She’s lovely, by the way, a real charmer.”

  “Jill, this jealousy is beneath you.”

  “I’m not jealous, I’m truthful, as I always have been. And here’s another truth for you. Jo fancies Gabe.”

  “Are you so upset that you’ll say anything to hurt me?” Quinn demanded. A dull headache was building behind her eyes and the coffee felt like toxic sludge in her stomach.

  “Quinn, I love you. I will always love you, and I will always have your best interests at heart. Jo has zero interest in Rhys; it’s Gabe she wants.”

  “Jo would never do anything to hurt me,” Quinn retorted.

  “Are you sure? You barely know her. You’ve built up this picture of the perfect sister, a soulmate, your other half, but she’s just like Sylvia: calculating, self-serving, and sly.”

  Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. Jill was being vicious, but beneath the hurt, she knew that Jill was telling the truth of what she’d seen, and perhaps she was right to some degree. Jo was what her mum would call ‘spiky,’ a word she had for people who were unapproachable and touchy.

  “Jill, thank you,” she said. “I know you’re only looking out for me, and you’re right, Jo is not quite what I expected. Heck, I don’t even know what I expected, perhaps someone who’s exactly like me, but Jo and I are as different as night and day, and it will take time for us to find a relationship we’re comfortable with. But I’m always comfortable with you. Please, don’t shut me out of your happiness. I want to be there for you, for your wedding, and for your baby. I’m so thrilled for you.”

  “I know you are,” Jill replied, her tone softening. “Look, I’m sorry if I hurt you, Quinny, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s never to ignore your gut instinct, and my instinct is screaming bloody murder. Don’t let down your guard too soon, is all I ask.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Oooh,” Jill suddenly moaned. “Got to go. I’m going to be sick.” She disconnected the call, leaving Quinn staring at the phone.

  She was just about to make another cup of coffee when Gabe came down the stairs, Alex in his arms. Emma followed him, still in her pajamas.

  “You’re up early,” Quinn said to Emma.

  “I’m excited for my sleepover with Maya,” Emma replied. “Daddy said he’ll take me.”

  “I can take Alex with me if you need a bit of time on your own,” Gabe said. “You look tired.”

  “I’m all right. You two go on. Alex and I have much to do this morning.”

  “Such as?” Gabe asked as he settled Alex in his highchair and poured some milk into his bottle.

  “I have to unload the dishwasher, do several loads of washing, put together a progress report for Rhys, and hopefully spend an hour or two on research.”

  “And what does Alex have to do?” Emma asked as she took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “Alex just has to be his adorable self,” Quinn replied.

  “Hm,” Emma said, and tucked into her bowl of cereal. “Why does no one want me to be my adorable self? It’s clean your room, Emma. Put away your toys, Emma. Make your bed, Emma.”

  Quinn and Gabe exchanged looks over Emma’s head. Were they really too demanding or was Emma just jealous of Alex?

  “Surely there are some benefits to being you,” Gabe said. “You are going on your first sleepover, while Alex is staying at home.”

  “There is that,” Emma agreed. She pushed away her half-eaten breakfast and slid off the chair. “I’m going to go pack my stuff.”

  “You’re only going for one night,” Gabe said.

  “You don’t understand,” Emma replied, giving him an imperious look. “I need several outfits, pajamas, my toothbrush and hairbrush, and hair accessories. I’m also bringing Emme, so I have to pack for her. Maya also has an American Girl doll. Her dad brought it for her from America. Her name is Julia, and she has loads of stuff. A lot more than Emme has.”

  “Right. What was I thinking?” Gabe replied, rolling his eyes. “Off you go, then.”

  “Are you all right? You look a bit peaky,” he said to Quinn as soon as Emma left.

  “I just spoke to Jill. I was upset that she hadn’t told me her news first.”

  “I thought you might be,” Gabe replied. “Quinn, things are bound to change. Jill will have her own family now.”

  “I’m her family. I always have been. Just because we have other people in our lives doesn’t mean we can no longer be close.”

  “No, it doesn’t, so don’t let it happen. Don’t let anyone come between you two.”

  “You mean Jo.”

  “I mean anyone. Jo is no threat to you,” he said. The comment was innocent enough, but Quinn wondered if he was referring to something other than her relationship with Jill. Could there be a kernel of truth in what Jill had said about Jo’s interest in Gabe?

  Quinn resolutely put the thought from her mind as she slid several pieces of bread into the toaster. This wasn’t turning out to be a very pleasant morning. Gabe came up behind her and put his arms around her, resting his chin on top of her head.

  “Don’t worry so,” he said as he pulled her close. “It will all work out the way it’s meant to.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Quinn muttered.

  Chapter 36

  After Gabe and Emma left, Quinn settled Alex in his playpen and retrieved her laptop from the study. Gabe had unloaded the dishwasher while she threw in a load of laundry, so she had a bit of time to focus on her research. The minute she came across something of interest, her mobile rang. It was Drew Camden. Jo had said earlier that she hadn’t heard from Drew, which was surprising. He’d promised to ring by the end of the previous week, but it was now Tuesday and Jo was worried that he hadn’t been able to discover anything worth reporting.

  “Hi, Drew,” Quinn said as she took a seat on the sofa, her gaze fixed on Alex, who seemed intent on separating his bear from its plastic nose. “How are you? Jo’s not here, if you were hoping to catch us together.”

  “I’m well, thanks. Eh…look, Quinn, I wanted to speak to you first. I hope that’s all right.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  �
��Do you have time to talk?” Drew asked, sounding awfully glum.

  “Yes. Are you still in Ireland?”

  “No, I’m back in London.”

  “Was the care home a dead end, then?” Quinn asked.

  “Not at all. I spoke to several people who worked at St. Monica’s at the time Jo was there. None of them remember her, but that’s not surprising. Countless women passed through that place over the years. A few of them liked it so much, they came back again,” he scoffed.

  “Are you saying Jo had more than one baby?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. Ignore that last comment. I’m just frustrated, I suppose.”

  “Drew, what exactly have you discovered over there?” Quinn asked. Drew was stalling, and that didn’t bode well for Jo’s case.

  “Since the early nineties, St. Monica’s worked with two adoption agencies—one in Ireland, one in England. The Irish agency specialized in international adoptions, while the British agency focused on domestic arrangements. I began with the agency in Dublin. Of course, they would never open their records to me, but the director of the agency was able to confirm that Jo’s daughter’s adoption wasn’t handled by them. She checked for both Quentin Crawford, as Jo would have been known then, and Ian Crawford, who was her father and handled the legalities of the adoption. Neither name came up in the database. She also pulled up the files of all the babies from St. Monica’s. There were only two children born in August of 1999 whose adoptions they oversaw. Both were boys, and both went to the States.”

  “And do you believe this woman?” Quinn asked.

  “I have no reason not to. It’s easier for her to tell me the truth and fob me off than deal with a court order, should Jo decide to go that route.”

  “So, this leaves the other agency,” Quinn deduced. “Is that why you’re back in England?”

  “Yes. I just left the offices of the Family Circle Adoption Agency. Like the agency in Dublin, they were able to confirm that Jo’s baby never passed through their hands. They handled only one case from St. Monica’s that August, and the baby, although a girl, had been born on August 2, 1999. Unless Jo has the birthday wrong, this child couldn’t have been hers.”

  “What does this mean, Drew?” Quinn asked, sensing his discomfort.

  “This could mean one of two things. Ian Crawford might have registered Jo under a false name; therefore, the file would be under her alias, and since we don’t know what it might have been, we can’t inquire about the child. Or the baby was never adopted.”

  “How can we find out?”

  “The only way we can discover the truth is by gaining access to St. Monica’s records.”

  “You mean get a court order?”

  “That’s not really what I had in mind,” Drew replied.

  “Drew?”

  “One of my private security clients might be able to help, but it wouldn’t be strictly legal.”

  “Are you telling me this person has the ability to hack into the database?” Quinn asked.

  “Yes, he’s quite talented. Should I put this to Jo, or simply tell her that I encountered a dead end in my investigation?”

  “Why would you want to keep this from her?” Quinn asked, confused. Jo had a right to know what Drew had found out.

  “Quinn, if that baby was never legally adopted, then we have to assume that it either died or fell into the hands baby traffickers, in which case we’ll never find any trace of her. She might have wound up anywhere in the world, and not have had a very pleasant life.”

  “I see.” Quinn sighed. An oppressive heaviness settled in her chest and she drew a shuddering breath.

  “So, I ask again, should I tell Jo the truth? I spent only a few minutes with her, but she seemed fragile. Perhaps it would be kinder to let her believe her baby is out there somewhere, part of a loving family that went through legal channels to adopt her. She’ll be disappointed, but she won’t be shattered.”

  Quinn stared at Alex, who’d lost interest in the bear and was now banging a plastic toy on the floor of the playpen, squealing with delight when blue and red lights began to blink, and an annoying tune erupted from the tiny speaker. She wanted to grab him and hold him close, to keep him safe in her arms until he was at least forty. What had happened to Jo’s poor, defenseless child? And what had Dr. Crawford done to keep his son’s shameful secret?

  Quinn took a calming breath. “Drew, here’s what I think we should do. Ring Jo and tell her that you have spoken to several past employees and were able to obtain the names of the adoption agencies, which you intend to visit this week. In the meantime, have your man see if he can find anything concrete. If he does, we can pursue the lead and see where it takes us, but if he doesn’t find any trace of the child, then we tell Jo the trail has gone cold. What do you say?”

  “I say that’s precisely what I planned to do, but I didn’t want to make the decision without consulting you first. I’ll ring you when I know more.”

  “Thanks, Drew. And thank you for being sensitive to Jo’s feelings.”

  “I’d rather not hurt people if I can avoid it,” Drew answered gruffly. “Talk soon.”

  “Yeah, talk soon,” Quinn replied and ended the call.

  Chapter 37

  November 1588

  Leitrim, Ireland

  “What on earth are you doing?” Rafael asked.

  Alfonso was rooting around on the floor in the morning half-light, his round face flushed and anxious. “I lost my cross,” he moaned.

  “Was it very valuable?”

  “It is to me. The lock on the chain broke, so I kept it in my pocket, but now I can’t find it. I need it, Rafi. It’s the only connection to home I have left.”

  I know just how you feel, Rafael thought. “I’ll help you look.”

  Rafael got out of bed and let out a whoosh of air as his feet hit the icy floor. He ignored the cold and got on his knees, peering beneath the bed and examining every crevice between the stones. The cross was nowhere to be found, and they abandoned the search.

  “Could you have dropped it somewhere else?”

  “I don’t think so. I was very careful about keeping it safe.”

  “Does it have any distinctive features? Maybe we can tell the others to be on the lookout for it.”

  “It had a small ruby set at the crossbar. It was my mother’s,” Alfonso whined. “She died when I was six.”

  “I’m sorry. It must have been very special to you.”

  Alfonso sat on the bed and hung his head in despair. “I’m so homesick it hurts, Rafi. Seville seems like heaven on earth compared to this damp, freezing hell. I’d give anything to see it one more time.”

  “Alfonso, we must not give up hope.”

  “There’s nothing worse than false hope, Rafi, for it prevents you from accepting your current circumstances. If we are to remain here, we must think of our future. Perhaps you can marry your preciosa,” Alfonso suggested.

  “Aisling is betrothed, Alfonso. She’s not mine for the taking, and even if she were free to marry, I have nothing to offer her.”

  “Who is this man she is to marry?”

  “He is a man of position and wealth. He’s the reeve.”

  “Then he’s most definitely a better bet than you are,” Alfonso replied, smiling sheepishly. “She does like you though. I see her watching you from beneath those fox-red eyelashes when she thinks you’re not looking. She’s smitten.”

  “Much good it does me,” Rafael replied, and grabbed his cloak. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “See you later,” Alfonso mumbled.

  Rafael hadn’t gone far when he saw the captain, who clearly had the same idea. “May I join you, de Silva?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  The captain’s health had improved greatly over the past few weeks. His wound no longer pained him, and his cheeks had lost some of their cadaverous gauntness. His gait was brisk as he headed for the gate.

  “You seem much improved, sir,” Rafael
said.

  The captain nodded. He seemed preoccupied, so Rafael stopped talking and walked along in respectful silence. “I’ve been conferring with Sir Brian,” Captain de Cuéllar said.

  “About?”

  “About finding a ship to take us home.”

  “And is that a possibility?”

  “Not at present, but I remain hopeful.”

  “Some of the men believe the navy will send a ship for us come spring,” Rafael ventured.

  “Then let them believe it,” the captain replied. “Anything to keep their spirits up in the face of a long, dark winter.”

  “You do not believe it, sir?”

  “I do not. The men who made it back to Spain will have reported that there were no survivors. Even if they thought some men had survived the shipwrecks and the murderous natives, they wouldn’t know where to search for us or how many of us might have made it through the winter. We’re on our own, de Silva. It’s up to us to find our own way home.”

  “Will we?” Rafael asked, his heart in his mouth.

  “We will get home or die trying,” Captain de Cuéllar replied hotly. “Let’s turn back, shall we?”

  They walked back to the castle in silence, each lost in his own thoughts. As soon as they entered through the gate, they noticed something odd. A dozen people were pacing the length and breadth of the bailey, their eyes glued to the ground, their shoulders hunched as they shuffled along.

  “Ask them what they’re doing,” Captain de Cuéllar said to Rafael as they approached the castle steward.

  “We’re searching for Sir Brian’s cloak pin,” the steward replied, lifting his eyes off the ground momentarily.

  Rafael had seen Sir Brian wear the pin. It was crafted of braided silver and set with a sizeable amethyst.

  “The pin was a gift from Sir Brian’s mother to his father on the occasion of their marriage. It has great sentimental value, so we’d best find it right quick.”

  “Does he think the pin might have been stolen?” the captain asked after Rafael translated the steward’s words for him. Rafael relayed the question to the steward.