“You were just what?”
“Never mind,” Derek said. “I shouldn’t have done that. Please forgive me.”
“Your brother is a grown man. He can look after himself,” Jocelyn said. “And for your information, I don’t have any designs on him. I just want to go home,” Jocelyn wailed, the stress of the day catching up with her as her vision blurred with tears.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Derek said again, his tone soothing. “What can I do to help?” He reached out to touch her arm, but Jocelyn stepped back and crossed her arms in front of her chest. The defensive posture helped her regain some control over her feelings.
“Why didn’t you say you knew me right away?” she demanded.
“Because I wasn’t sure where I’d seen you. It took me a couple of days to work it out,” Derek replied.
She blinked away the tears. “Will people know me if I go back to this theater?” she asked.
“All productions have been suspended since the occupation,” Derek replied. “The theater is closed.”
Jocelyn leaned heavily against the side of the stall, her head dipping in misery as her arms fell to her sides. She hadn’t expected to feel such bitter disappointment, but it was as if a door had just slammed in her face. She was right where she started. This time, she didn’t push Derek’s hands away. He pulled her into an embrace, and she allowed herself to be held, resting her cheek against his chest, silent tears sliding down her face. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head, the gesture strangely paternal.
“It’ll be all right,” Derek said softly. “In the meantime, you are safe here with us.”
Jocelyn lifted her tear-stained face to his, reassured by the sympathy in his eyes. “Derek, Dr. Rosings says I’m with child. I can’t remember the man I love. I don’t even know if he’s alive or dead,” she confessed, her voice breaking. “I’ve never felt so lost, or so afraid.”
Derek’s arms tightened around her. “Let me help you,” he said into her hair.
“How can you help me?” Jocelyn asked desperately.
“I can take you to New York. You might recognize something you see, remember someone you knew.”
Jocelyn bit her lip. She was flooded with apprehension at Derek’s suggestion, but she had to admit, it was a reasonable one. If he had truly seen her in New York, chances were she’d lived there. Seeing familiar places might trigger a memory of her past.
“Thank you. I think that’s a good plan. But Derek,” she said, looking up at him.
“Yes?”
“Please don’t tell anyone. Not yet.”
“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I will invite you to come to New York with me and suggest that the change of scene will do you good. If you’re as good an actress as I think you are, you’ll have no trouble convincing everyone that my offer is unexpected and even a little inappropriate.”
“Why would it be inappropriate?”
Derek’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “A young woman spending hours with an unmarried man, driving through thickly wooded areas where he could force his unwelcome attentions on her, would be viewed by some as unseemly.”
“Are you planning to force your unwelcome attentions on me?” she asked, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.
“Would you like me to?” he asked, smiling at her in a way that made her insides quiver.
“I’d better go back inside before I’m missed,” Jocelyn said instead of answering, although she wasn’t exactly sure who’d be missing her.
“Yes, I think you’d better,” Derek agreed. “I still have to unload the supplies I brought back.”
Jocelyn hurried from the stable, relieved to be away from Derek. For the first time since the shipwreck, she felt a flicker of hope for the future, but she couldn’t allow herself to get too secure or give in to the spark of attraction she’d felt when Derek held her. She had to remain loyal to the father of her child, even if she couldn’t remember his name. She might not recall the life she’d led before the shipwreck, but she didn’t think she was the type of woman who’d give herself to a man without loving him. She was wed; she was sure of it, just as she was suddenly sure that he hadn’t been on the ship with her when it sank.
Chapter 28
March 2018
London
Gabe stared at Quinn in utter disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. Quinn made to approach him, but he held up his hand, warning her off, then turned abruptly and left the room, his feet pounding on the stairs.
Quinn followed him. He was in the kitchen, pouring himself a shot of whiskey.
“Gabe,” she began.
Gabe turned to her. The shock had been replaced by anger, his eyes flashing dangerously as he tossed back the shot, never breaking eye contact.
“I know what you’re going to say—” Quinn began in her most placating tone.
“Really?” Gabe demanded as he slammed the shot glass on the worktop. “Do you?”
Quinn couldn’t blame him for being upset. She was absolutely gutted herself, but they had to talk about this. This wasn’t some minor infraction Brett had committed, this was murder, and it hadn’t been a crime of passion. He had thought it through, had planned it meticulously, and got away with it. “You are going to tell me to let this go,” Quinn said, bracing for a full-scale row.
“You are damn right I will,” Gabe snapped. “Do you even comprehend what you’re suggesting?”
“What about what you are suggesting?” Quinn countered. “You are proposing we let him get away with murder.”
“He already has,” Gabe reminded her brutally. “Nothing you do will bring Jo back, but if you pursue this, you will be drawing his attention to yourself, to our family, and to Daisy. Do you still not understand what he’s capable of?”
“Oh, I do,” Quinn cried. “That’s why he must be stopped. Brett is a sociopath. He feels no genuine guilt or remorse. He told me he’d changed in prison, had found God, then promptly murdered his own sister over something that had nothing whatsoever to do with him, and walked away without a moment’s hesitation.”
“And all you have for proof is the word of a teenage girl,” Gabe replied.
“Everything Daisy said was accurate. She knew it all, Gabe, had seen every sordid detail. She’d watched Jo die. Brett can’t be allowed to simply get on with his life. It’s my duty to stop him.”
“No, it’s not. Let someone else stop him,” Gabe exclaimed. “For once in your life, take off your superhero cape and consider what you’re proposing.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” Quinn didn’t mean to raise her voice, but she was so angry, she could barely breathe. “I’ve never known you to be a coward.”
“Coward, am I?” Gabe replied, his voice dangerously low.
“I didn’t mean that,” Quinn backtracked.
“Yes, you did. Well, you are right. I am a coward. I don’t want to see my family decimated. And I never want to feel the way I felt when I saw you lying broken and nearly lifeless in that tomb. Meeting Brett almost cost you your life and the life of our son. You didn’t know him then, but you do now. You know he’ll do anything to protect himself.”
“He need never know where the information came from.”
“Of course he’ll know. As far as he’s concerned, you are the only person who might know the truth. He gambled on you being hurt and angry enough to not want to touch any of Jo’s possessions. He took a chance, and it paid off. Had Daisy not walked into your life today, you’d have remained in ignorance, and you would have been better off. We all would have.”
“But she has walked into my life, and I’m no longer ignorant of what happened. I mean to get the case reopened.”
“And how do you propose to do that?” Gabe demanded, trying a different tack. “Will you simply walk into a police station and tell them Daisy’s had a vision? Who will believe you? You need evidence to convince the police to reopen a case. You need proof, which you thankfully don’t have.�
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“I can find proof,” Quinn said stubbornly, refusing to acknowledge that Gabe was probably right.
“How? It’s been over two years. Let it go, Quinn,” Gabe shouted. “Please, for all our sakes.”
“She was my sister,” Quinn said, her voice breaking.
“She was the sister who would have destroyed you had she lived. She was poison, Quinn. You are well rid of her.”
“Maybe so, but she didn’t deserve to be murdered,” Quinn countered.
“Maybe not, but it’s not your job to avenge her murder. She’s gone. Brett is out of our lives. Please, for once, listen to me.”
Quinn swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump in her throat. Everything Gabe had said was true, but she couldn’t bring herself to capitulate.
“Promise me,” Gabe demanded, his gaze nailing her to the wall. “Promise me you won’t go to the police.”
She nodded miserably.
“Say it,” he insisted.
“All right.”
“All right, what?”
“All right, I won’t go to the police. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she mumbled.
Gabe’s expression softened. He could never stay angry for long. “I know you’re hurting, Quinn,” he said. “I do understand.”
“So, you are not angry with me?” Quinn asked tearfully.
“Of course I’m angry, but not with you.”
Quinn walked into Gabe’s arms and buried her face in his chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered again. “You are the bravest man I know.”
“I’d have to be to be married to you,” Gabe said, but the heat had gone out of his voice. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I really am. It’s a terrible moral dilemma you’ve been presented with, but in this case, you must do the wrong thing.”
“So, you admit it’s the wrong thing,” Quinn said, giving him a watery smile.
“Yes, I do, and I’m prepared to live with that.”
“Come to bed,” Quinn said. She needed to feel Gabe’s arms around her, to know he’d truly forgiven her for branding him a coward, but Gabe shook his head.
“I need some air. You go on up.”
Chapter 29
The night was cool and crisp. Wispy clouds floated across the overcast sky, casting eerie shadows across the hazy moon. Gabe walked down the street, his step so quick he was almost trotting. Several cabs slowed down as they passed him, probably expecting him to hail them in his hurry to get to nowhere. He didn’t care where he went. He just needed to burn off some of his anger, frustration, and guilt. Blood roared in his veins and his heart thumped painfully against his ribs, his mind mercilessly replaying the conversation with Quinn, holding up a mirror to his fears and motivations.
He’d had no right to tear into Quinn the way he had or to imply that she was on some sort of superhero crusade. She had reacted the only way she could have to the information Daisy had shared with her. She’d come to him, looking for understanding and support, and instead of sharing her horror, he’d made it sound as if the whole situation was her own fault. She was right; he was a coward. His gut reaction had been to protect his family, and himself. He wanted to bury his head in the sand and pretend nothing had happened, but there was no turning back, no unlearning what he’d learned tonight.
Jo had not been a pleasant woman, her death no great loss to anyone, it seemed, but no matter how badly he wanted to protect his family, he couldn’t ignore that a brutal crime had been committed, a crime he’d be happy to ignore. What sort of person did that make him? As much as he didn’t want to kick the hornet’s nest that was Brett Besson, he couldn’t simply walk away from the truth. Brett had committed murder, Daisy had seen it, and now they had to act on the information she had presented them with.
Quinn had nothing to take to the police, but there was someone who could help. Drew Camden. For all his outward reserve, Drew was like a bloodhound who wouldn’t give up until he either found the evidence needed to support Daisy’s claim or confirmed once and for all that they needed to let the matter drop. Gabe would be happy with the latter outcome, but if Drew proved successful, then sooner or later, Brett would learn of the threat against him, and then what? Would he go to ground in the States, or would he try to flee? How easy would it be for British police to bring a case against an American citizen? Gabe had no idea, but with today’s level of cooperation between the two nations, he didn’t think the police in the United States would put up too many obstacles if presented with solid evidence. And what of Kathy and Seth Besson? Would they try to help their son at any cost? They’d done so once, but now the stakes were higher, the implications more dire. Brett had actually killed his own sister, Seth’s daughter.
Dear God, how was it possible to spawn such a monster? Gabe wondered as he gazed up at the unsympathetic moon. Kathy and Seth weren’t bad people. In fact, he liked them both immensely. They were “salt of the earth,” as his father would have said: solid, dependable, compassionate. How had they produced such a sociopath, and had they really not known what Brett was capable of?
And Jo… She was still haunting them from the grave, wreaking havoc on their lives. Would they ever be able to fully move on from the events that had led to her death? Would Quinn ever be able to expunge those awful memories, or would Jo be forever linked to Gabe in her mind? Probably not, but as Gabe turned for home, he asked himself the one question he still didn’t have an answer to. Was it wrong to love someone enough to let a murderer go free in order to protect them?
Chapter 30
Sleep wouldn’t come. Quinn couldn’t even bring herself to summon the past. She was still worked up, her emotions raw. Gabe was right in everything he’d said; she knew that, but how could she simply let this go? Brett had mowed down Jo in cold blood, and he’d killed her because of Quinn. So, indirectly, she was responsible for Jo’s death. And what if there had been others, before or after he’d murdered Jo? Who was to say that Brett hadn’t disposed of other people who’d threatened him or simply got in his way? How could she live with herself if she allowed him to walk away as if he’d done nothing wrong?
If only his conviction hadn’t been overturned, Quinn thought angrily. Brett would still be in prison, removed from society for several more years. Would prison have changed him? Probably not. In order to change, you had to see the error of your ways, to repent and want to be better. But Brett was unrepentant, his conscience clear.
Of course, no one would take her seriously; Gabe was right in that as well. Without fresh evidence, the case would remain closed, just another file collecting dust in an out-of-the-way cabinet until enough time had passed and it was moved to some basement archive, where it would never see the light of day again.
Quinn sighed heavily. She needed expert advice. She had to know if she had a legal leg to stand on. She’d promised Gabe she wouldn’t go to the police, but she hadn’t promised she wouldn’t consult Drew Camden. Drew had helped her find her twin when everyone else thought Jo had dropped off the face of the earth, and he had been able to make inroads into finding Daisy before Jo had abruptly decided to abort the search. Drew was clever, determined, and most importantly discreet, and, being a retired police detective, would know exactly how to proceed and what evidence would stand up in court.
The bedroom door opened, and Gabe came in. He undressed quickly and got into bed. Realizing she was still awake, he pulled her into his arms, and Quinn melted into him, thinking he wanted to resolve their differences the old-fashioned way, but Gabe didn’t respond to her obvious willingness. His gaze was troubled, his breathing ragged. He was still upset.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry for everything I said. You were right; we can’t ignore this. We don’t have enough to involve the police, but we can speak to Drew. He’ll advise us. I’ll stand by you, Quinn, no matter where this takes us.”
“I’m sorry too,” Quinn said softly. “Now, shut up and make love to me.”
Their joining was urgent and intense, the feelings that had been simmering for the past few hours finally boiling over in a culmination of love, forgiveness, and mutual acknowledgment that nothing would ever truly be the same. This day had changed everything, regardless of the eventual outcome. Like Adam and Eve, they’d taken a bite of the apple and now possessed knowledge they could no longer ignore that could lead to their expulsion from paradise. And their life had been paradise before she went and cocked it all up, Quinn thought bitterly. She’d brought the serpent into their lives.
Unable to rest even after Gabe had finally dropped off to sleep, Quinn reached for the ring, desperate to escape a reality she couldn’t have imagined only twenty-four hours ago.
Chapter 31
November 1777
New York City
The ride into New York City took several hours, but Jocelyn didn’t mind. She was warm and snug in Hannah’s cloak, her hair kept out of the grip of the playful wind by a linen cap. They’d left before the sun had come up, but Jocelyn had been more than ready to go, glad no one would see them on the road at such an early hour. She had no desire to fuel the gossip that had spread like a forest fire over the past few weeks, the nasty insinuations fanned by Lydia Blackwell and based on her unfounded belief that Jocelyn was making a play for Derek. Derek seemed unperturbed, no doubt pleased by Lydia’s jealousy, nor did he ever address the rumors at home, not even when Ben had brought up the subject over supper last night.
Jocelyn found Ben’s anger more telling than anything he might have said to her outright. He resented her name being bandied about in relation to his brother, who’d been nothing but chivalrous and respectful since their conversation in the barn, keeping her secrets as if they were his own. Ben hadn’t spoken to her of his feelings again, but the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her and his constant attempts at getting her alone had become wearying. She’d said nothing to encourage him, but he took her every smile and comment as a sign of interest and repaid her friendly gestures with romantic overtures. He’d left a bouquet of late-blooming roses in a jug by her bed and had sewed her a handsome leather purse, which hung empty from her bedpost since Jocelyn had nothing of her own to put in it. Ben was kind, solicitous, and respectful, but the intensity of his feelings terrified Jocelyn, more so because she didn’t return them.
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 13
