by Hope White
She’d asked Aiden to swing by her apartment, get the lockbox she kept in her closet and bring it to her. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find in the piles now strewn across her bed, but she’d hoped to uncover a clue that could help Detective Issacs.
A knock sounded at her door. She padded across the room and looked through the peephole. Quinn smiled at her. She swung open the door.
“Thought I’d bring dinner,” he said, wheeling a tray into her room.
“It’s that late?” She followed him to the table beside the window.
“It’s only five but I figured you’d be hungry.” He glanced at her bed. “What’s all this?”
“Family files, documents, stuff like that.”
Quinn paused and glanced over his shoulder. “How did you—”
“Aiden got them for me.”
“Oh,” he said, glancing away, but not before a hint of disappointment flashed in his blue eyes.
“I asked him to pick up the box because I figured you were busy with work,” she said.
“You don’t have to explain.”
“For some reason I feel like I do.”
He placed the covered plates on the table and moved the cart aside.
She touched his arm. “Quinn?”
“Chef’s special tonight is cedar planked salmon.”
“Talk to me.”
“About?”
“That look you just gave me.”
“You must have imagined it.”
“I was your personal assistant for nearly six months. I learned to read your expressions and your moods.”
“Yeah, aren’t you glad that gig is over?”
“Don’t change the subject.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Tell me what you thought when I said Aiden picked up my documents.”
He fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers. She placed her hand over his. “What flashed through your head?”
“That you didn’t want to risk me screwing up again.”
“Screwing up?”
“Issacs was right. They find us every time we head out, and yet I walked us directly into trouble, again.”
“You couldn’t have known he’d find us at the storage unit.”
“I should have.” He pinned her with intense and angry blue eyes.
But he wasn’t angry with her.
“I should have assumed we were being watched. This whole thing started with some guy following you into the mountains. They followed us here from the hospital, followed us to the storage unit and threatened your life.”
“None of which is your fault.”
“Sure it is if I’m dumb enough to walk straight into the threat.”
“Don’t talk like that. You are anything but dumb.”
“Some people might disagree.”
She motioned for him to sit down. “I dare you to find me one person who thinks you’re dumb.”
“You’ve never met my stepmother.” He collapsed in the chair, lifted the cover off his plate and quickly replaced it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Lost my appetite.” He glanced out the window.
“Tell me about her.”
He snapped his attention to Billie. “Why?”
“It might help.”
“What, understand me better? You know me better than my own brother. Trust me, you know enough.”
“No, it might help to loosen all this angst twisting your stomach into knots.”
“What makes you think my stomach’s twisted into knots?”
“Just a guess.” She removed her cover and inhaled the delicious scent of salmon, rice and baked broccoli. “How old were you when your mother died?”
He lifted his cover and placed it on the table. “Ten.”
Sadness caught in her throat at the image of a little Quinn standing beside his mother’s coffin. She wanted to go to him, hug him, do something to ease the flatness of his voice. She knew if she showed any kind of emotion he’d shut down, and Quinn Donovan needed to get this story out.
“I’m sorry,” she said, forking her salmon. “That must have been horrible.”
“Yeah, well, Sophia came into the picture when I was eleven and my brother Alex was sixteen. He was a jock so he wasn’t around much, then he enlisted in the army right out of high school. Dad worked overtime a lot, leaving me alone with her. I just wanted my mom back, ya know?” He forked his rice, but didn’t eat. “I think Sophia resented having to raise a teenager. I acted out, trying to get Dad’s attention, someone’s attention. She’d get so mad at me.” He shook his head.
“She didn’t—”
“No, she never got physical. But sometimes the other stuff can leave deeper scars.”
“Other stuff, you mean...?”
“She’d say stuff. She basically convinced me I drove my mother into an early grave.”
Billie slammed her fork down. “How could she do that to a grieving little boy?”
Quinn shrugged. “She’s a classic narcissist. I don’t think Dad knew what he was getting into until it was too late.”
“So he worked overtime to stay away from her?”
“At first he worked a lot to buy her things. Then as the years wore on, yeah, I guess he was staying away.”
“Didn’t he ask how you were doing?”
“He thought she was taking care of the emotional stuff. I mean, he was totally bamboozled by the woman at first, and by the time he figured out what she was, well, he was ashamed. I think he felt like he’d failed me. He could hardly look me in the eye.”
Quinn suddenly looked at Billie. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Because it feels good to get it out.”
“I guess.” With a sad smile, he glanced at his food.
“What happened to her?” Billie asked.
“They eventually divorced. Dad got cancer and she didn’t want to be his caregiver. She managed to empty his bank accounts before she skipped town.”
“Did you report her to the police?”
“We didn’t know until it was too late. Dad was too ashamed to pursue legal action. The damage was done.”
His words rang heavy in the room. She’d obviously done worse damage than emptying a bank account.
“But she’s out of your life now, so you don’t have to think about her anymore, right?”
“Easier said than done, especially when you’ve left a path of destruction in your wake.”
“What do you mean?”
“My marriage. Probably shouldn’t have gotten married in the first place, but I wanted to prove I was lovable. Then I managed to destroy that because I wouldn’t—” he glanced at Billie “—open up to her. There was this part of me I could never share. I was afraid she’d skewer me like Sophia did my dad.”
“So, you still hear your stepmother’s negative comments?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“But you know they’re all lies.”
“Sometimes that’s not enough.”
“Sometimes a little divine intervention could help.”
“Thanks for the suggestion, but guys like me aren’t allowed to lean on guys like God.”
“Don’t say that. God loves all his children.”
Quinn shook his head, signaling that part of the conversation was over, but Billie wasn’t done.
“Quinn, will you do one thing for me?”
He glanced up with such vulnerability in his eyes.
“Will you relinquish your angst and emotional pain to God? Surrender it, and let him do the rest?”
He shrugged. She took his hand and bowed her head. “Dear Lord, please help Quinn find his way to peace by
surrendering his pain, by letting go of his anger and by finding grace through Your love. Amen.”
She opened her eyes and caught Quinn studying her as if he’d never seen her before. When she started to pull her hand away, he squeezed it and said, “Thank you.”
She couldn’t look away, couldn’t break eye contact with this man who she’d always suspected had many layers protecting his heart. And now she understood why.
The phone rang, jarring them out of the moment. She cleared her throat and reached behind her to answer. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Bronson?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective Issacs. I wanted you to know that I’m getting some good information from the guy we arrested at the storage facility. Apparently he was sent to get in contact with you about your husband’s involvement in a crime ring. Haven’t figure out why yet, but with his help I’m confident we’ll track down the leader of the group.”
“What was my husband’s role?”
“Transportation. He’d find various places to stash the items throughout the Northwest.”
“I see.”
“The suspect said something else.” He hesitated.
“What?”
“A year ago when you and your husband were rescued by search and rescue?”
“Yes?”
“Your husband had been ordered to kill you.”
NINE
“Oh,” Billie said, completely stunned.
“They thought you’d discovered what he was doing and feared you’d contact the authorities. They told your husband to make it look like a hiking accident.”
All Billie could think about was how she’d tended to Rick, prayed with him during those last hours before SAR medical personnel arrived.
Yet he’d been planning to kill her?
“Mrs. Bronson?” the detective said.
“Yes, I’m here.”
“Why would they think you had something on them?”
“I have no idea. Why did they wait so long to come after me?”
“When you left town they lost track of you. They probably figured if you had damaging evidence you would have gone to the police.”
“And now?”
“I’d be speculating, but I’m guessing you have something they need, maybe it’s in your husband’s things. I’ll keep working on this guy for answers. He’s got a lawyer, but wants to negotiate a deal so I’ve got some leverage. The good news is, it looks like the rest of them are out of state,” he said. “So you should be relatively safe for now.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.”
“Still, it won’t hurt to be cautious.”
“Of course. Thanks for the call.” She hung up and shook her head.
“What is it?” Quinn said.
“If anyone’s dumb it’s me.”
“Was that—?”
“Detective Issacs. Apparently Rick took me out on a romantic hike to get me alone so he could...” she hesitated “...kill me.”
“Aw, Billie, I’m so sorry.” He reached over and touched her hand.
“I had no idea, not even an inkling. I thought he was making an effort, you know, trying to get our marriage on track. I am so naive.”
“You’re hopeful, that’s not a bad thing.”
He continued to stroke her hand. She couldn’t handle it, couldn’t handle the caring gesture from this guarded man. She thought she understood Rick and his desperation to provide for the woman he loved. Yet he’d planned to kill her?
“What happened that day you two went hiking?” Quinn asked.
She slipped her hand out from under his. “Rick packed lunches and said he wanted to get away for a few hours, explore nature. We headed into Snoqualmie National Forest. I took the lead so he could catch me in case I tripped, at least that’s what he’d said.” She remembered hiking in silence, breathing in the crisp air, and how the mountain chill cooled her skin as they worked up a sweat. “It started to rain and got slippery. We ducked beneath an overhang for shelter, decided to eat lunch and wait for the rain to ease up and then...” An odd scene replayed itself in her mind.
“Billie?” Quinn prompted.
She glanced at him. “I was about to drink lemonade and he knocked it out of my hand and lectured me about drinking lemonade when I should be drinking water. It was nonsensical. He grew agitated. We argued and he stormed out of the shelter, pacing frantically. I was scared, Quinn. I didn’t know what had set him off. I mean, lemonade? Really?”
“Then what happened?”
“We argued. He lost his footing and fell fifty feet to the ledge below. I was...I was in shock for a minute. I couldn’t believe it had happened. Then I lowered myself down there.”
She’d blamed herself because if she hadn’t set him off he wouldn’t have left the shelter and fallen.
“He packed the lunches that day?” Quinn asked.
“Yes.”
“But he yelled at you for drinking lemonade?”
She nodded.
“That makes no sense, Billie. Unless...”
“What?”
He glanced at her with compassion in his eyes. “Maybe he spiked the lemonade but at the last minute had a change of heart.”
“Spiked it?”
“Sure, so you’d be loopy and fall to your death.”
It all fell into place: her husband’s loving behavior after months of being withdrawn; suggesting a romantic hike; then not letting her drink the lemonade.
“And here I thought he was trying to save our marriage,” she muttered.
“You always look for the good in people.”
“Which makes me naive and foolish.”
“Don’t say that.” He reached for her hand again, but she stood and paced to the window, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He couldn’t do it, Billie. Which means he still loved you.”
She stared out the window at a family—Mom, Dad and four kids—playing volleyball on a sandpit bordered by gorgeous green grass. A family. She’d always hoped she’d have one of her own. But right now she doubted she could ever trust her heart to another man. Sure, she knew Rick was struggling, but he wasn’t a killer. Was he?
“Sweetheart, don’t do this to yourself,” Quinn said coming up behind her and touching her shoulder.
“In the last year of our marriage Rick never called me sweetheart.” She looked into his blue eyes. “Yet it sounds so natural coming from you.” She read tenderness in his eyes, maybe even love.
His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. “It’s an SAR text. I’ll check in with Aiden.” Quinn wandered to the other side of the room to make the call.
She snapped her attention from his broad shoulders. This was crazy, she was slipping again, falling into a false sense of security with a man she knew had no intention of committing to her or any other woman for that matter.
Although she understood why Quinn walled himself off to emotional connections with women, she couldn’t offer her heart to a man who would surely break it due to his own emotional pain.
If only he’d surrender that albatross weighing down his heart. Please, God, help Quinn.
“I guess an Alzheimer’s patient went for an unauthorized walk and hasn’t been seen since lunch,” Quinn said, eyeing his phone.
“Who is it?”
“A guy named Donald Vicars.”
“I helped find him last month.”
“They’ve got plenty of help.”
“Where was he last seen?”
“By the Wallace Falls trailhead.”
“I know where he’s going, Quinn. We’ve got to help.”
Quinn shook his head. “They’ve got a full team to handle it.”
“A team of stra
ngers. He’ll be terrified. Donald knows me. If a bunch of people corner him he could turn aggressive or take off deeper into the mountains.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“The bearded man is in custody and Detective Issacs made it sound like the others aren’t in town. I won’t let fear keep me from helping Donald.”
“Billie—”
“It’s almost seven. We have two maybe three hours of light to find him. Can I borrow a pack?”
“I’m not going to win this argument, am I?”
“Smart man. Let’s go put together a pack while you call Aiden and tell the field leader I’m on my way.”
* * *
Quinn had made it clear that he didn’t like the idea of Billie going on a mission, even a short one with a team of four SAR members. She noticed that as he hiked alongside her, his eyes continued to roam the forest on either side of them, probably anticipating threats from all directions.
They didn’t have much time to find Donald, and the setting sun would only make their jobs harder. Luckily, she knew exactly where to go.
“Why Wallace Falls?” he asked her.
“Actually it’s not as far as the falls, but along the way there’s a spot where he and his high school sweetheart used to sit by the river and have a picnic. It was their special place.”
“And Donald remembers that?”
“It’s easier for him to remember distant memories than recent ones.”
“How did you keep him calm the last time you found him?”
“I kept him talking about the past, didn’t argue with him and told the team to keep their voices down.”
“You seem to know a lot about this condition,” Quinn said.
“My grandfather had it. He lived with us as long as we could take care of him, but it got to be an around-the-clock job so we found him a place where he’d be safe.”
“We’re losing daylight,” one of the SAR team members commented.
“It’s right around the next switchback.” She stopped and looked at the team of four that accompanied her and Quinn. “I’ll need you guys to stay back at first. Keep your voices down, don’t ask questions or contradict him, okay?”
