Rosie smiled and nodded. “Okay. I’ll wait for the call.”
Quinn disappeared around a corner.
Rosie dropped the smile and chided herself for sounding so immature. She had no idea what had come over her. She sighed and pulled the business card out of her pocket to look at it. It was nice, with the words Cavendish Integral Algorithms scrolled on it. Under that was Quinn’s name and title, along with an email address. She flipped it over to run her fingers over the chicken-scratched ten digits. This had turned out to be a good day, after all.
Her cell phone, which she had forgotten to turn off, rang in her pocket. She picked it up and answered the long-distance call.
“As I’m sure you know,” said an automated-sounding voice, “Mr. Mason’s death is entirely your fault. We are watching you.” It hung up before she could ask who it was.
Rosie shoved the phone back in her pocket and raced down the hallway. She had to get away. And, she thought to herself, she needed to talk to someone about what had actually happened. She knew that, this time, this wasn't something she could handle by herself.
EIGHT
Quinn stood next to Peter’s bedside and shook his head. The poor kid was still completely high on some drug or another. For some reason unknown to him, they hadn’t been able to give him a simple local anesthetic. They had had to knock him out completely.
Jewel had just sunk into the chair by the wall, and she was laughing through her tears.
“So, he’s going to be okay?” Quinn asked.
Jewel nodded and put a hand over her mouth for a minute. “It wasn’t as deep as we thought it was. He’s okay. He’ll just need a few weeks for it to heal. By my wedding, he should be fine.” She laughed. “Peter, how could you wreck my nerves like this?”
Peter turned his groggy head to look at her. “Jewel, come sit on the cloud with me,” he offered.
Jewel laughed again, and this time Quinn joined her. He couldn’t believe how zoned out Peter still was.
Even through the love and laughter engulfing the rest of the room, Quinn’s mind backtracked to his conversation with Rosie. Her exact quote of what she had said startled him. He knew she had to be smart to have avoided Martin’s killers, but he hadn’t realized just how smart she was. That statement had proven it. Even if she tried to hide her intelligence, she was smart enough to remember at least the most important things. He just wondered why she tried to cover them up all the time.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to look at it. He didn’t recognize the number, but it could be one of his boss’ numbers. He looked at Jewel.
“Are you okay if I take this?” he asked quietly.
She nodded. “I’ll be perfectly fine. Thanks for the moral support.”
He smiled and nodded. Then, before the call could drop, he rushed to the hallway and answered it.
“Quinn,” said Mr. Lorrander, “I need you pronto.”
Quinn rolled his eyes. “What is it this time?”
Mr. Lorrander cleared his throat. “Well, it seems another of the girl’s acquaintances has turned up dead. It may just be me, but I think I’m seeing a pattern here.”
Quinn couldn’t believe it. Somehow destruction seemed to follow this girl. Everything she touched seemed to turn to ash. What was going on?
He sighed heavily. “Okay. Where do you need me?”
Lorrander rattled off the address and hung up the phone.
Quinn lowered his head and sprinted out to his car. This case was beginning to intrigue him. So far, his week had been thoroughly confusing. Why was death following Rosie Callahan? He was pretty much convinced that she couldn’t be a killer, so he knew that wasn’t it.
He didn’t bother about obeying the traffic laws as he careened around several corners and finally made it to the address that Lorrander had given him. It was a wide-open park, with well-groomed trees and a few picnic tables. Nothing spectacular, just a normal park.
He eyed the plethora of cars parked around him and leaned his head forward onto the steering wheel. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t walk in there and pretend everything was alright. This was the FBI’s newest case, and his brother’s Audi was one of the official cars parked around him. He slowly pulled out of the parking lot and down the street. Lorrander would have to send someone else.
His phone trilled and he, once again, didn’t recognize the number. He clicked it on and took a deep breath.
“Hello, this is Quinn Wesley.”
“Quinn?” came a woman’s scared voice. “Um…it’s Rosie Callahan. I…I need to talk to you.”
Quinn kept himself from blurting something awful out. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t. He had to take this slow. He had to handle this with kid gloves.
“About what?” he asked.
She breathed a laugh. “Look, I need someone to talk to about some…morbid stuff. I didn’t know who else to call. You seem like a smart guy. Please come?”
He considered the options. If she wasn’t a killer, this could be the answer to all his questions. If she were, he knew enough martial arts to take her out. He decided it was an acceptable risk.
“Where and when?” Quinn inquired.
“My house?” She didn't sound overly sure of herself.
Quinn weighed his options again. Her neighborhood had a neighborhood watch, at least. If there were gunshots or arguing, someone would notice. Safe enough. “Okay,” he agreed. “When?”
She paused for a minute. “Whenever you can get here. It’s not urgent, but I need to talk and I don’t feel right telling…” she stopped again. He could hear her breathing change as she decided what to say. “I don’t feel right telling my usual sounding-board.”
He wondered who that was. He shrugged it off and nodded. “I’ll be there in ten minutes or so.”
“Okay,” she agreed before hanging up. She sounded so hesitant.
Quinn suddenly wondered what her history was. She said things that were so smart, and then reneged on them. She spoke to him like she was scared, but he knew that she was so very bold. She was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. She confused him, and he wasn’t sure that was good. He hadn’t really ever been confused before.
He pulled into her driveway and decided to leave his usual firearm in the car. Instead, he slid a compact gun, only about two inches long, into his shoe. If he needed to defend himself, the three bullets it contained should be enough.
He took a deep breath and sauntered to her front door. The living room lights were on. He sighed and rang the doorbell. The familiar “ding-dong” echoed out through the door.
It didn’t take her long to reach the door and open it. She looked up at him with a wan smile.
Quinn smiled back at her, suddenly a bit uncomfortable. “You said you needed to talk.”
Rosie dropped the smile and nodded, then moved aside so he could walk in.
Quinn studied the tastefully decorated living room. It was simple, yet elegant. It was all in the details. Her couch was embroidered in blue. Her coffee table had small words etched into it. The coffee mug sitting on the table, next to an 8x10 picture frame, was tie-dyed. He had to smile. It was eclectic, but effective.
He turned to face her as she closed the door.
“What was it you needed to talk about?” Quinn asked in the most sensitive manner he could muster.
She wrang her hands as she walked toward him. “Um…do you want some coffee? Tea?”
He shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m not thirsty.”
She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. She motioned to the couch. “Will you sit down, please?”
He took a tense seat on the brown and blue couch. He then watched as Rosie sat on the opposite end of the couch and picked up her mug. She wrapped her knees up to her chest and clutched the cup until her knuckles turned white. Her eyes bespoke her anxiety. Suddenly, he feared for her well being. She was either a really good actress or completely sincere.
“Wh
at’s the matter?” he asked again.
She took a deep breath. “It’s just…it’s confusing.” He could see the frustration behind her bright eyes.
“What is?” Quinn desperately wanted to know what was going on, but he also knew he had to allow her to take it at her own speed.
Rosie looked into her coffee. “You remember that train ride where we met?”
Quinn gave a nod, beginning to become confused himself. It was pretty obvious that Rosie didn't know where to start her story.
“I was running away. There were these men in the station and that guy on the train and…I got scared. I didn’t know what to do.”
Quinn studied her stature. She was curling up into herself. She was scared, really scared, and she was subconsciously protecting herself from the outside world.
“What happened, Rosie? Why are you so terrified?” It was something he had to know, in order to understand her situation. In order to understand if she needed protection or not.
She glanced up at him momentarily. “I had a meeting with this guy. We were talking and he was shot. I saw him die. It was…bad.” She shut her eyes, probably hoping to shut out the memories.
Quinn leaned forward. She was talking about the crime scene that he was supposed to investigate. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a waste, after all.
“Why were you meeting with him?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
Quinn wanted to tell her that it did matter, that he needed to know, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t force her to relive the entire experience when she was already so shaken. He took a deep breath and silently asked God what he was supposed to do.
He moved a few inches closer to her and watched as she curled her legs tighter to herself. He slid his eyes shut for a moment, regretting what he was about to ask.
“Why are you telling me this?” he finally managed to spit out.
Rosie finally made eye contact. “Because I don’t know what to do. Because you work for a company called Cavendish Integral Algorithms, and that sounds like you’re really smart. Because I need help and I didn’t know who else to go to.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She took a sip of her coffee, trying to hide her obvious alarm. “Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll help you. We’ll figure out what’s going on. Together.”
Rosie widened her eyes just a bit and swallowed her coffee too fast. Quickly, she set the mug on the table and covered her mouth as she sputtered and coughed.
“You want to help me?” she asked.
Quinn nodded. “Yeah. You can’t do this alone. I figure I can give you some brawn. There are already two deaths in your investigation.”
“Two?” Rosie asked skeptically. Her eyes narrowed and her body language tensed.
Quinn realized his mistake right away. She had never told him about Martin. As far as she knew, he didn’t know anything about the man she had left behind in Canada.
“That ticket must have been for someone,” he finally spit out, knowing he needed some excuse. “I guess I just assumed that, given your fright, it was a death.”
She eyed him thoughtfully for a minute. “I…I don’t want to burden you. I mean, you do have a girlfriend and all. I don’t want to take all your time or something.”
He cocked his head. Girlfriend? He had never professed to have a girlfriend. “What do you mean?”
She picked her coffee mug back up off the table. “The girl with you in the hospital.”
Quinn mentally kicked himself. Of course she had assumed that Jewel was his girlfriend. It was only logical, seeing as how he had been by her side in her time of need.
“Rosie,” he said quietly, “that wasn’t my girlfriend. That was my brother’s fiancé, Jewel. He works for the FBI and had a case to work, and she needed moral support. Trust me, we are not involved.” How could she have thought that? he wondered.
Rosie winced. She should have recognized Jewel Hanlin when she saw her. She never forgot a face. What had happened that caused her to overlook Jewel’s? Obviously she wasn’t thinking straight. She hadn’t been thinking straight since Martin’s death. She silently chided herself and made a note to stop becoming distracted. She knew better than to be distracted.
“I, uh, I guess I just assumed,” she said as lightly as she could. “So, you don’t have a girlfriend?”
Quinn shook his head and gave her a cock-eyed smile. “I’m about as single as they come. Are you asking for yourself?”
She shifted nervously and ran a hand through her curls. She shouldn't have asked. She should have known he would assume that. “No. I’m just…trying to clarify after my previous mistake.”
“I take it you don’t make many mistakes like that, given your confusion.” He continued to smile kindly.
Rosie couldn’t force herself to smile, not this time. In truth, she hadn’t made many mistakes in her life. Especially when it came to remembering a face. She couldn’t believe she had made this mistake. She was still mad at herself for that.
“Rosie, are you alright?” Quinn asked.
She looked up to answer just as the window by the front door shattered. She covered her head with her arms and felt herself hit the floor. After it remained quiet for a few minutes, she opened her eyes and slowly moved her hands off of her head. The first thing she saw was the mug of spilled coffee on the floor. She was going to have a hard time cleaning that one up.
She rolled her head to face upward and saw Quinn crouched above her. He was in a defensive stance. It looked like karate training, but she couldn’t be sure. She pushed herself to a sitting position and flipped her hair off of her face.
“Smart and you can fight? Where have you been all my life?” She said it sarcastically, but deep inside she kind of meant it.
“Stay,” Quinn commanded as he straightened a bit and stepped over her toward the window.
Rosie didn't know why, but she obeyed. She watched as he looked down the street both ways and finally relaxed his defensive position.
He stooped to the floor and used a Kleenex from the nearby table to pick up a brick. Rosie spotted the note tied to it and crawled across the floor to look at it.
“Can you explain this?” Quinn asked.
Rosie looked at him, stunned. She couldn’t explain it and that was what scared her. What if the people who had killed Martin had found out where she lived? She couldn’t live in that fear, it was too devastating.
“I have no idea,” she whispered as she lifted the note to read it.
Don’t think you can run, Rosie. We have eyes everywhere. This was just a warning. Stay away.
She pulled her hand back as if a snake had bitten it. Who were these people? How did they know who she was? And why were they after her? The most confusing question of all was: what did they want her to stay away from?
She looked at Quinn as he read the note and locked his jaw.
“You can’t stay here, Rosie,” he said matter-of-factly. “Go pack a bag with everything you’ll need. I’ll pull the truck into the garage.” He stood up and headed through the kitchen to the garage door.
Not wanting to take the chance that there might be another shooter out there, Rosie rushed to her room and began throwing clothes and toiletries into her largest suitcase. She didn’t know where she would go, but she had to go somewhere. She zipped the bag closed and dragged it through the house to the garage door.
Quinn rushed back in through the door and gave her a concerned glance. “Are you doing okay?”
Rosie nodded. She thought she could make it through. For now, anyway.
Quinn rocketed through the house, shutting off lights and closing doors. “Okay,” he finally said. “Come with me.” He exited the garage door again.
Rosie followed and tossed her suitcase into the backseat of the truck. She slid onto the passenger seat and quickly replayed the night she and Quinn had met. This wasn’t the first time that the man had saved her life. She vaguely wondered
if it wouldn’t be the last.
Quinn opened the driver’s side door and took a deep breath. “Where’s the automatic opener for the garage door?” he wondered aloud.
She pointed out her window to the car sitting there. “It’s in the glove box.”
Quinn quickly snatched it and ran back to the truck. He stuffed it into the console and slammed his door shut.
“Hunch down on the floor,” he commanded. “Don’t get up until I tell you, okay?”
Rosie nodded and folded her small frame onto the floor in front of her seat.
Quinn opened the door and slowly backed out of the driveway. He obeyed the speed limit until they got down the street, and then sped onto the roads that would take them to the highway. Once they reached the highway and had traveled for a while he finally nodded to her.
“We’re not being followed. You can get up now.”
Rosie wondered how he knew to look for a tail. That wasn’t something that a math geek would necessarily know. His credentials had checked out so far, but maybe she needed to look closer. Suddenly, being with Quinn seemed like both the safest place to be and the most dangerous unknown.
“Do you have a place to stay?” Quinn asked abruptly.
With a sigh, Rosie shook her head. “Not really. I have a friend, but she’s just getting over a horrible…occurrence in her life. I don’t want to impose.” She looked down at her hands.
Quinn nodded a few times and took the next exit to a rest stop. He parked the car and pulled out his cell phone. “Are you okay if I put you with a friend of mine?”
Rosie squirmed for a second. “Who is it?” she asked. She didn’t want a complete stranger to start asking questions about everything that had happened in the past weeks.
Quinn smiled and unlocked the phone. “My sister. She’s great, trust me. If something else comes up and you don’t feel safe there, just let me know. I have other places I could put you up.”
Rosie nodded, making a split-second decision to trust Quinn. “Okay. I’ll give your sister a try.”
Rose-Colored Glasses Page 7
