by Lara Lacombe
“Might as well wear them out,” she said. She grabbed a second pair and looked at Quinn. “What else do I need?”
He picked up a wide-brimmed hat and set it on top of the pants. “This’ll do. I have everything else.”
She paid for everything and they returned to the car. “My apartment isn’t far,” he said quietly.
He directed her to a small complex near the edge of the town and led her up a flight of stairs to a door on the second floor. Rebecca glanced around, surprised at the beauty of the view. “You can see the mountains from here,” she remarked.
Quinn glanced behind him as he unlocked the door. “Yeah. It’s especially pretty at sunrise and sunset.”
He walked inside, holding the door so she could follow. She stepped into the living room and saw the kitchen off to the right. A short hall extended to the left, where she assumed his bedroom was.
“Bathroom is just that way,” he said, indicating the hall with a nod. “If you need it.”
She didn’t, but it gave her an excuse to snoop. “Thanks.” She headed down the hall as he opened a closet door in the living room and began to rummage inside. Satisfied he was occupied, she risked a quick glance into his bedroom. Nothing fancy; she noted a bed and a side table sporting a lamp and a framed picture.
His wife, she guessed. It was too far away for her to make out the image, but who else would it be?
She ducked into the bathroom, which was small but clean. She reached for the mirrored cabinet hanging on the wall, then hesitated. It felt wrong to invade Quinn’s privacy by snooping in his medicine cabinet, but she needed to know if he was taking anything that might make him an unreliable source. Pushing aside the hint of guilt, she opened the cabinet and was greeted with the sight of nothing special. His toothbrush, toothpaste and razor were there, along with a few bottles of ibuprofen and an over-the-counter allergy medication. Certainly nothing that suggested drug abuse, or any physical or mental health issues. It was possible he kept medication in his bedside table drawer, but from what she saw here, Quinn appeared to be a healthy man. It all fit with the results of his background check—by all reports, Quinn was a law-abiding guy who had never been in trouble with the authorities.
She quietly closed the cabinet, then flushed the toilet and ran the faucet to make it sound like she’d used the facilities. She stepped back into the hall and headed for the living room to find Quinn sitting on the floor, two backpacks in front of him. He had opened one and was methodically going through the supplies, apparently double-checking the contents against a mental list.
“Mind if I get something to drink?”
He shook his head, not bothering to look up. “There’s bottled water in the fridge. Grab me one, too, please. We need to start hydrating before we set out.”
Rebecca headed into the kitchen, noting it was just as tidy as the bathroom. No dishes cluttered the sink, and aside from a coffee maker, the counters were bare. She opened the fridge, half-expecting it to be empty. But it was stocked with a variety of fruits and vegetables, along with a gallon of milk, some juice and a few condiments. There was a full six-pack of beer shoved to the back of the shelf, which told her Quinn wasn’t much of a drinker. She found the water and grabbed two bottles, then headed back into the living room.
Quinn was packing up the first bag and as she walked over, he zipped it closed and reached for the second pack. He hesitated a brief second, then opened it and began the inventory process again.
“Everything okay?” she asked. She settled onto the rug across from him and took a sip of water. She felt her eyes grow wide as he pulled an impressive assortment of gear from the small bag.
“Yep.” He cracked open his own water bottle and took a healthy drink. “Just double-checking everything before we set out.”
“Do we really need all this stuff?” There were ropes, a flashlight, a small pill bottle containing cotton and a few matches, a first-aid kit, some kind of strange-looking tube, a small shiny square wrapped in plastic and many more items she didn’t recognize. She reached for the flashlight, flicking it on. “We’re not going to be out at night.”
Quinn reached over and took the light, turning it off before setting it back on the floor. “You never know,” he said. “Better to have it and not need it than the opposite. I’ve seen too many hikers get into trouble because they thought they could skimp on safety.”
“Fair enough.” She wouldn’t ask a fellow agent to go into a raid without a bulletproof vest, and the feel of her ankle holster was a reminder she’d made her own preparations for this hike. She couldn’t really blame Quinn for doing his job properly.
Even though it meant her back would ache the whole trip.
“It’s not as heavy as you think,” Quinn said, apparently reading her mind. “If you pack it properly so the weight is evenly distributed, it’s not that bad. The heaviest thing you’ll be carrying is water, and that will get lighter as we go.”
“If you say so,” she said, unable to keep a note of doubt from her voice. Given the amount of gear Quinn was shoving back into the bag, Rebecca didn’t see how that was possible. But he sounded confident, so she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.
For now.
She watched him inspect each item, then place it back into the bag. He worked quickly but competently, and Rebecca was surprised to find she enjoyed seeing him work. His hands sported a warm golden tan from time spent outside, and there was a light dusting of hair on his wrists. His long fingers moved nimbly, and she was suddenly struck with a curious desire to know how his hands would feel on her skin. The errant thought sent a burst of warmth through her limbs, and she shifted, trying to ignore the feeling.
It’s just a physical reaction, that’s all, she told herself. As she’d noticed during their first meeting, Quinn was a handsome man. It was only natural her body would respond in kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to act on this attraction. A shiver went down her spine as the faces of the two victims flashed in her mind. Both women had been redheads, just like her. And just like Quinn’s wife. How would he respond once they got out on the trail? His reaction would tell her a lot about his connection to these murders.
But even if Quinn hadn’t been tied to the investigation, she wasn’t ready for a relationship again. She’d tried to date a few months ago, figuring that by a year after Brandon’s murder she should make some kind of effort to connect with a man. But her heart hadn’t really been in it, and her efforts had stalled after a few lackluster dinners. Rebecca didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone, but she wasn’t about to force herself into a relationship just so she could check that box.
Quinn got to his feet and she rose as well. He handed her the smaller backpack and she slipped it over her shoulders, surprised to find he was right—it wasn’t too heavy.
“Wow,” she said, tugging a bit on the straps to adjust the fit. “It really isn’t that bad.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “Is this where I get to say ‘told you so’?”
“If you must,” she replied, smiling a little.
He stepped to the side, checking how the bag sat on her back. When he faced her again, his eyes burned with a naked longing that nearly stole her breath. Then he blinked and the emotion was gone, snuffed out like a candle.
Rebecca swallowed, unsure of what to say to break the silence between them. Quinn studied her face, as if comparing her features to a memory. Rebecca bore his scrutiny silently, part of her not wanting to interrupt this strange moment. There was an undercurrent of sexual tension between them, but there was something else, too, something she couldn’t quite identify buzzing under the surface. How long would this last? How would it be resolved?
Finally, Quinn bent and picked up the larger bag, slipping it onto his back. His movement broke the spell, and Rebecca let out her breath in a quiet sigh. “How long do you
think this hike will take?”
He shrugged. “It’s about seven miles, round-trip. A few hours at least, depending on our pace.” He slipped into the kitchen and returned a few seconds later, his arms laden with more water bottles. “Here, let me get you loaded up.”
She turned away from him, offering him access to the bag. The pack grew heavier as he inserted the water bottles, but it was still bearable.
“Want me to put yours in?”
Quinn shook his head. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.” He slipped off the bag and added the water. “Ready?” A flash of sadness crossed his features, and Rebecca realized with a jolt that she must be wearing his dead wife’s bag. They must have gone through these preparations countless times before setting off together; no wonder Quinn seemed a little off. Seeing another woman wear his wife’s gear must be difficult for him. Rebecca could only imagine how she’d feel if she saw someone wearing Brandon’s jacket or favorite tie.
She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. “Quinn, take me back to the feed store. I can buy my own bag.” She didn’t want to torture the man, for God’s sake.
He shook his head with a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. Really,” he added, after seeing her face. “That’s silly for you to spend money on something you’ll never use again. Besides, Ashley would be glad to know her gear is getting used.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am.”
Rebecca reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, wanting to comfort him in some small way. “I’ll be careful with it,” she promised. It humbled her to know he was entrusting her with this memento of his wife. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do the same with something that had belonged to Brandon.
“I know.” He jerked up one shoulder and emitted a short laugh. “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”
Rebecca swallowed. “I’ll earn it,” she promised. She wanted him to know she understood the magnitude of his gesture, knew how hard this must be for him. “My fiancé was murdered almost two years ago,” she blurted, the words tumbling out before she could think better of it.
Quinn’s eyes widened and his mouth softened. “My God,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
She shook her head, tears pricking her eyes. “It’s okay. I just wanted you to know I get it—I know how hard it is to lose someone. And you’re stronger than I am. I don’t think I could let someone else use Brandon’s things. Not yet.”
Quinn hesitated, then reached out to pull her close. Rebecca didn’t resist, and some small part of her brain was shocked at how willingly she moved into his arms. He held her in a loose hug, his broad chest warm against her cheek.
“Grief is a funny thing,” he said quietly. “And I still have bad days, believe me.”
She sniffed and nodded and he released her. She took a quick swipe at her eyes and tried for a smile. “Ready?” If Quinn kept looking at her like that, his eyes full of warm sympathy and understanding, she was liable to throw herself back into his arms and beg him to hold her again. His touch had been comforting, despite the fact they were practically strangers. There was something about making contact with a man who had no ulterior motive that soothed her heart and made her feel safe.
It was a revelation, and now that Rebecca knew what it felt like to be held by Quinn, she was going to have a hard time not thinking about it. She knew she was taking a risk, setting off on a remote hike with a man who was somehow tied to these murders. But there was no better way to test him than to take him back to the scene of the crime. His reaction, or lack thereof, would tell her everything she needed to know.
“Let’s go,” he said, apparently sensing her need to change the subject. “Do you need to pick up anything from your room before we set out? A camera or anything like that?”
Rebecca shook her head. “I’ve got my phone if I need to take pictures. I mostly just want to get a feel for the place, if that makes any sense.”
He nodded. “It does,” he said shortly. He sounded apprehensive, and she figured he wasn’t looking forward to going back to the site. It was a normal reaction for a civilian to have, but she forced herself to consider another possibility: did Quinn want to avoid the area because he was afraid his reaction might give something away? She believed he wasn’t the killer, but she still wasn’t convinced he didn’t know the murderer somehow. And if the two men were working together to choose victims, or even stage the bodies, it was possible Quinn’s excitement would bleed through his innocent facade and give him away.
Rebecca glanced down, making sure her ankle holster was sufficiently hidden by the flare of her pant leg. As far as she knew, Quinn had no idea she was armed. She intended to keep it that way.
“After you,” she said.
* * *
He let her set the pace, shortening his stride so he didn’t push her to go too fast. It was clear Rebecca wasn’t an experienced hiker, but she was in good shape, which worked to her advantage. They made decent time, despite the increasingly rugged terrain.
Seeing Rebecca wearing Ashley’s gear had thrown him more than he cared to admit. It shouldn’t have—it was just a backpack, for crying out loud. But seeing the familiar green bag bobbing ahead of him on the trail made it far too easy to remember all the times he and Ashley had set off to explore the trails together.
It didn’t help that he felt drawn to Rebecca, either. She wasn’t Ashley—his mind and body knew that. Rebecca had Ashley’s red hair, but that was about it. Still, there was something about Rebecca that intrigued him and made him want to know more. At first glance, she was a walking paradox—a delicate-looking woman who spent her days staring down serial killers and other psychos. He knew better than to trust a first impression, though. In the short time he’d known her, he’d seen that Rebecca had a core of steel. She was much tougher than she looked, and he guessed she probably used her appearance to her advantage.
What other tricks did she have up her sleeve? The urge to learn about a woman was unfamiliar and he wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feelings. Ignore them and hope they went away? Or indulge his curiosity in the hopes his interest would wane the way it normally did?
Time enough to decide. For now, he needed to keep his eyes on the goal: get her to the site and back safely.
“Time for another water break,” he announced. He led them off the trail a few feet to the shadow of a large rock and did a quick sweep of the ground with the sole of his boot to disturb any creepy-crawlies that might be taking advantage of the shade. Rebecca waited for his nod before sitting down. She removed her pack and took out another bottle of water, her breathing slowing as she rested.
“Doing okay?” Her face was flushed with exertion from the heat, and her tank top was damp with sweat. Quinn had been religious about enforcing water breaks, but perhaps it was time for a longer rest...
“I’m fine,” she said. “Just didn’t expect this much of a workout.”
“Some of these trails are pretty tough going,” he said sympathetically. “But we didn’t pick an ideal time to set out. When I take you to the first site, we’ll start before dawn and that will make a difference.”
She nodded and took a healthy swig from the bottle. “Is this the only trail leading to the site?”
“Yes. But it’s possible he approached from a different direction.”
She considered his words for a moment. “Would it be an easier trek if he went off the trail?”
Quinn shook his head. “No. Believe it or not, the trail is the best way to get there.”
Rebecca pursed her lips in thought. “So whoever did this is in excellent shape.”
“Do you—” Quinn hesitated, not sure he wanted to ask the question. But he needed to know, even if the answer would only add fuel to his nightmares. “Do you know if the women were killed at the site or if they were already dead when he left them there?”
&
nbsp; Rebecca took another drink. “The coroner thinks they were killed at the site. He erased his footprints, removing all signs of struggle as well. But I have to believe someone would have noticed a man carrying a dead body over his shoulder, even if they only saw him from far away.”
“So he lured them here.” The idea put a bad taste in his mouth that the water did nothing to erase. What kind of man did something so horrible? How could one human deliberately gain another’s trust, knowing they intended to kill them later?
“Looks that way,” she confirmed.
“Those poor women,” he muttered, shaking his head. Discovering the bodies had been bad enough, but knowing the women had been led to their deaths somehow made it worse. The killer and his victim had probably traversed this same trail, chatting as they walked, perhaps stopping to admire a bird or pretty flower. Had she smiled at him, thinking him a friend? Had he shared food with her along the way?
Quinn’s stomach lurched, the water no longer refreshing. He set aside the bottle and focused on a nearby cactus, trying to steer his thoughts in a different direction.
“It was quick,” Rebecca offered. He glanced over to find her watching him, her gaze knowing. “He broke their necks, likely while they were resting. No signs of sexual trauma, either, so they didn’t suffer that way before they died.”
“Is that supposed to make it okay?” He didn’t mean to sound so harsh—she was only trying to make him feel better.
“No,” she said quietly. “But in my line of work, I look for the small mercies to keep me going.”
“How do you do it?” He shook his head, trying to cast off his bad mood. “How can you stand to work with such evil day in and day out?” She didn’t look like an adrenaline junkie, nor the type to get her rocks off on the suffering of others. But there had to be some reason she’d devoted her career to killers and criminals.
