by Hope White
“No, Quinn, I mean it. You’re one of the best men I know.”
* * *
Speechless, Quinn glanced down at his plate. For an awkward few seconds he felt her gaze on him and wondered how she could see things in him that no one else could. There was a strange but amazing connection between them, a connection that touched him on a visceral level.
Luckily the closed-circuit coverage of the luau snagged her attention. “They’re adorable,” she said, watching a group of little girls compete in a coconut-decorating contest.
Quinn was awed by the joy he read on Billie’s face. She’d be an amazing mother someday.
Sadness settled low in his gut. There’d been no role model in his life, no supportive and nurturing parent, so he wouldn’t have a clue how to effectively raise a child. He’d surely never risk foisting his lack of experience on his own kid.
They spent the next few hours eating and talking about the case, and their lives. It was as if they existed in a safe bubble, free of judgment or threat. Was this what unconditional love felt like?
As she helped him with the dishes, he found himself dreading the moment she’d head into the guest room, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Selfish jerk. She was probably exhausted and needed to turn in. He caught her covering a yawn with her hand.
“Go to bed. I’ll finish cleaning up,” he offered.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sunday. Church.” She smiled.
“I have a little work I’ll finish up here in the apartment tonight.”
“Okay.”
They ambled into the living room. She paused and turned to him. “Good night.” She slipped her arms around his waist in a loving embrace and he realized his arms naturally held on to her, as well. They stood there for a good ten seconds, his hand trailing up her back to stroke her hair.
She suddenly let go, went into the guest room and shut the door.
He had the sudden urge to grab his laptop and camp out on the floor outside her door.
“Not good, Donovan, really not good,” he muttered.
He was falling in love with a woman he could never be with, a woman he would abandon once the threat against her life was gone. That’s what you did if you truly cared about someone: you made her needs a priority.
Billie needed stability and the promise of a future with a devoted husband and children—the antithesis of Quinn Donovan. He could only hope she’d accept that reality before she accidentally fell in love with him.
* * *
The next morning Billie’s words still hummed against his chest: You’re one of the best men I know.
The memory made him uncomfortable and proud at the same time. He decided to live up to her high opinion of him by making sure she got to church safely.
Not that he’d join her inside the house of worship. She might believe Quinn an admirable guy, but God knew the truth. A rogue like Quinn didn’t belong in church. Today’s security guard, Phil, followed alongside them, eyeing the crowd for suspicious activity.
Quinn spotted the McBride family—Aiden, Bree, younger sister Cassandra, and their mom, Margaret—in the parking lot. Good, Billie would have someone to sit with during the service. They all greeted one another.
“You sure you don’t want to join us?” she asked Quinn.
“No, I’ve got—” he motioned to his phone “—business.”
“Okay, see you in a bit.” With a gentle smile, Billie turned and went into the church with the McBrides. Her security guard trailed close behind.
Quinn ambled to his car and leaned against the hood. His gaze took in the beautiful brick building with stained glass and he wondered what it felt like to be inside with friends and family. His brother regularly attended church and relied on God for strength, yet God had always been a mystery to Quinn.
Nearly an hour later he’d gone through emails and looked over a few properties for sale in search of business opportunities. What he guessed was the final song sounded from inside the church. Quinn closed his eyes, tipped his face to the sun and let the music wash over him. The deep tones of the organ felt grounding, yet uplifting. He could see how the music touched one’s soul.
His peaceful moment was interrupted by a text message. The sheriff’s department had received an emergency call and needed search-and-rescue teams to assemble at a trailhead about fifteen miles away. Good thing the service was almost over since Quinn figured about twenty of the local SAR members attended this church.
His phone rang and he answered.
“Donovan.”
“Quinn, how’s it goin’?” Alex said.
“It’s goin’.”
“That good, huh?”
“It’s frustrating.”
“But Billie’s okay?”
“She’s fine.” More than fine.
“So are you frustrated with the case or with something else?”
“To what are you referring, big brother?” Quinn teased, knowing where Alex was headed. Quinn glanced across the parking lot at the church.
And spotted a tall man dressed in a camouflage jacket peeking in a side window.
“Hey!” Quinn called out.
“Quinn?” Alex said.
Quinn pocketed his phone. “Excuse me!”
The guy spun around, spotted Quinn and took off for a nearby car.
Quinn sprinted after him. Why was the guy running unless he had something to hide?
The front doors of the church flung open and out of the corner of his eye Quinn spotted folks casually wandering out. Camouflage guy cranked the engine of his sedan. Quinn sprinted between cars hoping to get a license plate number.
Quinn was closing in, about five car lengths away. He veered between a minivan and SUV, slid over the hood of a station wagon and got to the guy’s sedan just as he was pulling away.
Quinn chased after him, focusing on getting a plate number. He was close, maybe five feet away.
The sedan stopped short but Quinn couldn’t stop his momentum.
He flew onto the trunk of the car.
The car squealed into Reverse and Quinn found himself clinging to the trunk or risk falling off and being flattened.
“Quinn!” Billie cried.
The car slammed on the brakes and Quinn went flying.
THIRTEEN
Disbelief and anger rushed through Quinn as he hit the ground and rolled a few times to help absorb the impact of the fall. When he came to a stop, he couldn’t breathe.
He heard the car tear off and someone shouted, “Call 9-1-1!”
“I’m an EMT. Let me through,” another person said.
Quinn gasped a few times, filling his lungs. “Billie” was all he could get out.
Her beautiful face came into focus and he relaxed, but only for a second. “License plate.” He struggled to stand.
“Easy,” a thirtyish woman said. “I’m an EMT. Remain still, please.” She took his pulse and fired off questions, probably trying to determine the seriousness of a potential head injury.
“I need to get the plate number of the car.” He wavered as he tried to stand, adrenaline still rushing through his body. Or was it something more serious?
A firm but gentle hand pressed against his shoulder. “Aiden’s on it. I want you to relax. Please?” Billie said with tear-filled eyes.
With a nod, he collapsed on the ground and closed his eyes, wanting to wipe the image of Billie’s tears out of his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought he was responsible for making her cry. Her hand remained firmly on his shoulder, the solid pressure calming his rapid heartbeat.
“I got the license plate,” Aiden said.
Before Quinn could respon
d, Billie said, “Call Detective Issacs.”
“What’s his number?” Aiden asked.
Without opening his eyes, Quinn pulled out his phone and handed it to Billie. “It’s in my contacts.”
When she took it from him, he felt her fingers trembling against his hand. He opened his eyes and watched her pass the phone to Aiden. Then she glanced at Quinn. A tear trailed down her cheek. He reached out and brushed it away with his thumb.
“I’m fine, really.”
She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. Then, as if she realized they had an audience, she took a quick breath and leaned away from him. “Why were you chasing that guy?”
“He was hovering outside of church.”
“He could have been looking for someone else.”
“I couldn’t take that chance.”
“So you charged his car?”
“You make me sound like a mad bull.”
“Don’t joke about this, Quinn,” she said.
“Can’t help it. I guess I’m embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed about what?”
“Ambulance is here!” a woman called out.
Quinn didn’t know how many people had gathered around, but he was pretty sure it was a few dozen, if not more. Church is supposed to be a peaceful place, yet today thanks to Quinn it had turned ugly and violent.
He closed his eyes again, wanting to block everything out, including the shame of letting a potential suspect get away.
“Sir, can you open your eyes?” a man said.
Quinn did as requested. As they checked him out, he felt Billie’s hand slip off his shoulder. He grabbed it before she could pull away.
“We need to place you on the backboard to transport you to the hospital.”
“I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
“Please, Quinn?” Billie said, wiping another tear from her cheek.
Barely able to speak past the emotion clogging his throat, he offered a nod and closed his eyes.
* * *
Quinn heard a woman’s voice, her soft whisper calming him as he awoke from a nasty dream. He didn’t open his eyes at first, wanting to enjoy it a little longer, letting it ease the knot of anxiety from his chest.
It was just a dream, nothing more, a vivid dream of being hit by the black sedan. As he lay immobilized and helpless he could do nothing but watch as the sedan chased Billie through a barren field, out of sight...
“Heavenly Father,” a voice whispered.
Billie was praying for him. Quinn opened his eyes to get his bearings. He spotted his favorite print on the wall, an evening scene of Paris. He was in his Echo Mountain Resort apartment. Right, E.R. doctors had given him a clean bill of health and had sent him home—a good thing since his accident had monopolized the attention of friends like Aiden who should have been out on the SAR mission.
“You’re awake,” Billie said.
He turned his head to the right. She sat beside him, clasping his hand between hers.
“What time is it?” he said, his voice sounding weak.
“Three. You slept for two hours.”
Someone knocked on the door. She stood, but he wouldn’t let go of her hand. “Don’t.”
“It’s probably Detective Issacs or your brother.”
“Alex?”
“I thought he should know what happened.”
Quinn released her and sat up. “Great.”
She went to the door, eyed the peephole and welcomed their guest.
“Detective Issacs, come in.”
The detective strode into the living room and approached Quinn. “How are you feeling?”
“A little groggy, but I’m okay. Did you find the black sedan?”
“We found the car, not the driver. It had been reported stolen late last night and was abandoned in Lake Stevens.”
“Another dead end,” Quinn said.
“Maybe not. Forensics will dust for prints. I’m guessing someone’s desperate if they’re sending a man to find Mrs. Bronson in such a public place.”
“Please call me Billie,” she said.
“What about the bearded guy?” Quinn pushed. “Anything new from him?”
“Hiding behind his lawyer.”
“So we’re back to nowhere.” Quinn stood and paced to the sliding glass door, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
“I wish we knew what they were after,” Billie said.
“They want information, it’s always about information,” Issacs said. “Billie, what do you know that could either help or ruin their operation?”
“I have no idea.”
“Think,” Issacs snapped.
“Hey, back off.” Quinn glared at the detective. “She would have told you by now if she knew anything that might help.”
“No, it’s okay,” Billie said. “He’s right. I’ve got to know something or have something they want. What about the jewels we found in the pantry?”
“They weren’t worth much, so I doubt that’s the reason they keep pursuing you.” Detective Issacs sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound gruff. I’m frustrated and I want to close this case before more people get hurt.”
Billie glanced at Quinn with sadness in her eyes. “I want that even more than you do, detective.”
“Tell us what you got from the suspect and maybe that will help Billie remember something.” Quinn ambled to the dining table and sat down. He was feeling a little off balance from the hit-and-run.
Billie and the detective joined him at the table.
“He was trying to negotiate a deal,” Issacs started. “He said he’d give us names of everyone involved in the theft ring in exchange for no jail time.”
“He shot Cody Monroe,” Quinn protested.
“I know, I know. There was no way he’d avoid jail time. He figured that out, but was stalling for some reason. I’m guessing that’s why he gave us Will Rankin’s name.”
“Will would never be involved in something illegal,” Billie argued.
Quinn recognized respect in her voice when she spoke of Will.
“We know that now, but we had to question him,” Issacs said.
“But he’s been cleared?”
“Yes, ma’am. Cleared and back home with his children.”
“As it should be.” Billie crossed her arms over her chest.
Quinn read so much confidence in her body language, like she knew Will and trusted him completely.
“Since the perp’s not talking, I’m trying to find pressure points like family or friends. It’s always about leverage,” Issacs said.
“What can we do to help?” Billie offered.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but stay out of trouble.” He glanced briefly at Quinn, then redirected his attention to Billie. “Keep going through your records, old emails, anything that can expose more of the players. Try to remember things your husband said to you during the last few months of his life that seemed odd or out of character.”
“We had drifted apart quite a bit.” Billie glanced down as if she were ashamed.
Quinn automatically reached out and touched her hand.
Detective Issacs raised an eyebrow at the intimate gesture. Quinn ignored him. There was no reason to hide his feelings for Billie. He cared about her and didn’t want her feeling ashamed or responsible for her husband’s spiral into a criminal lifestyle. Besides, if anyone was responsible for sending him down that dark path it was Quinn.
“Even the most obscure comment could lead us in the right direction to finding the mastermind behind this operation,” Issacs said.
“Are we thinking this is about stolen property or something more?” Quinn said.
“You mean like drugs?”
“Doesn’t look like it, but one victim claimed the burglars stole half a million dollars in bearer bonds from her wall safe. Those weren’t in the storage locker or the perp’s residence. We suspect either your husband had them in his possession and didn’t know it, or he was keeping a little something for himself and died before the others figured out where he’d hidden his personal stash.”
“Why is this happening a year after Rick’s death?” Billie asked.
“Who knows, maybe they couldn’t find you after you moved away. Or maybe they were waiting to cash in the bearer bonds and didn’t know they were missing.”
“So that’s what you think they’re after, the bearer bonds?” Quinn clarified.
“They’re after anything Rick Bronson kept for himself,” Issacs said.
“I need this to be over. I’m going to work in my room.” She stood, grabbed the box off the end table and walked away.
* * *
Billie felt a meltdown coming on so she escaped into her room where she wouldn’t embarrass herself in front of Quinn and the detective. As she paged through an old photo album she remarked how foreign it all seemed, as if she was leafing through someone else’s life. The smiles brightening hers and Rick’s faces, the playful exchanges caught by the digital camera was not at all how she remembered their last year together.
She was supposed to remember something Rick said to her, something that would enlighten investigators and end this nightmare, yet they had rarely spoken those last few months.
She flipped a page and came across a photo of her and Rick hiking in the Northern Cascades. They’d decided to hike the rigorous High Divide and make camp that night. She remembered that trip because she’d awakened in the middle of the night and found herself alone. She’d been frightened, assuming Rick had heard something, gone to investigate and was attacked by a wild animal.
As she paced the small area surrounding their tent, she called out his name four or five times. Then suddenly he appeared between the trees and apologized. He needed to relieve himself and didn’t want to wake her. Although he acted like it was no big deal, he seemed hyper, agitated. When she asked him about it, he said he’d heard an animal stalking him on the fringes of the campsite.
