“That’s how I feel about that book we’re going to read together,” he shot back, his eyes firing. “I found a copy in the bookstore, by the way. Guess what we’re going to start reading as a couple tonight.”
Rowan’s face fell. “I thought you forgot about that book.”
“Nope.”
“What book?” Paul was legitimately curious. “Is it something I would like?”
Rowan was mortified. “No. I ... no.”
Quinn’s smile turned sly, but he wisely didn’t continue the discussion. “It’s an in-joke. You wouldn’t get it.”
“I would like to get it,” Rosalind drawled, her fingers playfully moving over Quinn’s forearm. “I can show you one of my books, if you prefer.”
“I definitely don’t want that.” Decisively, Quinn gripped Rosalind under the arm and drew her to her feet. “Come on. I think it’s time for lunch. I’m guessing your cabal of writers are already seated and ready to adore you.”
Rosalind brightened considerably. “That’s something to look forward to, huh?”
“Yes. We’re all delighted to be a part of it.”
ROSALIND SAT WITH HER WRITER friends at the center table twenty minutes later, immediately talking over the conversation so she could be the center of attention. She had a huge plate of food that Quinn gathered for her, but she largely ignored it as she started telling wild stories about her writing career. Since Roxanne had been the center of attention only minutes before, she didn’t look happy about having her position usurped.
“They’re an odd bunch,” Rowan noted as she spread mustard on her sandwich bread and watched the scene from their usual table. Rosalind had forgotten all about them when they hit the dining room so there was no need to force themselves to sit through a meal with her when they could get a break from her overbearing presence. “It’s like being back in high school. The popular kids get most of the attention, only this time it’s because they’re rich, not pretty or easy.”
Paul slid her a sidelong look. “You were popular in high school.”
“Not really. I was on the yearbook staff and only went out on weekends. I barely dated. People didn’t know I was alive.”
“I’m guessing part of that is because you were desperate to keep your secret,” Quinn noted, dipping his fries in vinegar as he smushed down his burger. “You probably had trouble trusting people because you were afraid they would turn on you. Teenagers aren’t exactly known for their loyalty.
“It’s not their fault either,” he continued, oblivious to the way Paul looked at him. “Teenagers want to be the same because it’s bad to stand out from the pack. You’ve always been a unique and special person, so you were destined to stick out. As an adult, that’s benefitted you because people are drawn to what’s different. As a teenager, though, it’s frowned upon.”
“How do you know all that?” Paul asked finally. “Did Rowan tell you that?”
He shrugged. “We’ve discussed what it was like for her in school. I understand that your instincts would’ve been to protect her. That’s why you made sure she kept her ability secret.”
“It was more than that,” Paul intoned, his expression darkening. “I didn’t want word getting out around the school in case anyone was positioned in the staff to watch Rowan. I didn’t know if it was a possibility, but I certainly didn’t want to risk it.”
Both hands clamped around his massive burger, Quinn paused before taking a bite. “I didn’t even consider that. Do you think they would’ve gone that far?”
Paul shrugged, noncommittal. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s legitimate fear and what’s paranoia. They showed up three months before I left, asking about Rowan because they heard she’d warned Cissy Markham that she was going to die. It turns out Cissy had a bad heart, but they managed to fix her issues before anything happened and she survived. She told anyone who would listen that Rowan saved her.”
“Really?” Quinn shifted to look at Rowan. “You didn’t tell me that story.”
“I can’t keep track of all the times I warned people when I was a kid,” Rowan supplied. “There were several years in there where I got a big head and convinced myself that what was happening was a gift from God.
“I started going to church three times a week because I thought that would make me see things clearer,” she continued. “I was having a good run there for a bit — had managed to save three people in a row — and then one of my classmates died. Jennifer Butterfield.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was killed in a car accident,” Paul replied, his expression hard to read. “Rowan warned her that something bad was going to happen. Jennifer was scheduled to go on a trip with her family to California and canceled because she was so upset. The plane crashed.”
“Oh, geez.” Quinn grabbed Rowan’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “You saved her from the plane crash.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t save the other people on the plane, though,” Rowan noted. “I know it’s ridiculous to blame myself, but I was drowning in guilt for a bit. I had trouble sleeping because of it. Still, I could put up with it because I managed to save Jennifer. I thought there was a reason it happened.”
“And then Jennifer died anyway,” Paul explained when Quinn shot him a questioning look. “Rowan started asking a lot of questions that couldn’t be answered. Did Jennifer die because Rowan warned her? Maybe the plane wouldn’t have gone down if Jennifer had been on it, although I don’t know how she got that one into her head. It was a rough period.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to respond, how to soothe. He’d never really given much thought to the anguish Rowan had probably faced over the years when she couldn’t save someone. Sure, he’d witnessed the after-effects when she couldn’t play hero on the ship, but that was years after she’d wrapped her head around things and was emotionally mature enough to handle the emotions associated with failure.
“Sweetie .... .”
“It’s fine.” Rowan waved off whatever he was going to say. “I came to grips with it — at least as much as I’m able — years ago. I don’t think talking about it now is going to help matters.”
“I guess.” Quinn wasn’t convinced, but he wasn’t inclined to push her in front of an audience. “Tell me about your morning with Rosalind. Did you learn anything of interest?”
“Not really,” Paul replied, picking at his salad. “Rosalind is a difficult woman. Frankly, I’m surprised someone hasn’t tried to kill her before this.”
Rowan shot her father a quelling look. “That’s kind of mean. She wasn’t that bad.”
“Really? She keeps trying to get your boyfriend to strip down and pose for a cover.”
“I want my boyfriend to do that,” Rowan admitted, grinning when he poked her side. “Come on. Think of the money we could make. We’ll be rich.”
“It’s not going to happen. Although, I might be convinced to pose for you in private one day. Not until after this one is solved, though.”
Paul made an odd throat-clearing sound and stared at his plate. “I know I don’t deserve honored status or anything, but can you not make those jokes in front of me? To me, she’s six and wearing pigtails, bringing her Where the Wild Things Are book to my office so I can read it to her before bed.”
“A Where the Wild Things Are fan, huh?” Quinn smirked. “I am, too. As for your complaint, Paul, I guess that’s only fair. I’ll stop saying things like that in front of you.”
Paul looked relieved. “It’s greatly appreciated. Although ... you need to call me P.J. here.”
Quinn realized his mistake right away. “I’m sorry. That honestly is on me. I know better.” He looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. “I’ll make sure I don’t do that again.”
“The good news is, the more I think about it, the more I believe that Julia’s death is separate from my issues,” Paul offered. “I think it’s impossible that the threat on Rosalind’s life isn’t tied to what happen
ed to Julia. The odds of both those events being tied to me have to be slim.”
“That would be my guess,” Quinn agreed, wiping the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “Don’t drop your guard, but I definitely don’t believe there’s reason to panic.”
“What are you leaning toward for motive?” Paul asked, smirking when Rowan shot him a surprised look. “I understand about investigations even though I tend to lean toward science fiction. Technically, I’ve been running my own investigation for decades as I research the Phoenix Society.”
“I have a friend on that and he knows to be discreet,” Quinn said. “That same friend is trying to track down information on Roxanne and Rosalind. I need real names to do a criminal background check.”
“Why can’t you use their pen names for that?” Paul queried. “I mean ... I believe they’re essentially living under those names. They certainly answer to them and never correct anyone when being referred to under those monikers.”
“It’s not that simple. Legal transactions, such as buying homes and opening bank accounts, has to occur under a real name. They can’t get driver’s licenses or credit cards under their pen names unless they legally change their names.
“Now, I’m not ruling out the possibility that they did that,” he continued. “I still want to know their real names so I can look at their relatives. Besides, you never know, there might be something funky in one of their backgrounds.”
“Like being tried for murder?”
“Maybe, although I doubt it. Someone would’ve released that to the media if that were the case. There might’ve been old larceny charges or something, though. I don’t know that I expect to find anything.”
“You have to look, though,” Rowan surmised. “That makes sense.” Her gaze floated back to Rosalind. “I don’t want to throw a wrench into your plans because I know you dislike her — heck, I’m pretty sure everyone dislikes her — but she doesn’t strike me as capable of murder. She could barely lift her own glass.
“Those bins were deep,” she continued, holding up her hand for emphasis. “I think it would take a decent amount of upper body strength to toss a body into one of them. Julia looked to be about a hundred and forty pounds I would guess. So, not big. When dealing with dead weight, though, that would be cumbersome.”
“How do you know about dead bodies?” Paul asked curiously. “When did that become part of your knowledge base?”
Rowan shrugged. “I worked as a newspaper photographer. You pick things up here and there. Since I’ve hooked up with Quinn, we’ve had our fair share of bodies. You would be surprised at the things you pick up.”
Sadness momentarily washed over Paul’s features. “I didn’t want this life for you. You shouldn’t have to know things like that.”
“I happen to love my life,” Rowan said. “I’m not sorry how things turned out. I wish I hadn’t been left — I’ll probably always wish that — but that’s what brought me here. I don’t know that I ever would’ve had the strength to leave Michigan if you were still there. Perhaps you did more for me than you realized when you abandoned me.”
Paul’s eyes flashed at the word “abandoned,” but he didn’t get a chance to comment because Quinn offered up a quick headshake and inclined his chin toward a spot over Paul’s left shoulder. When the older man shifted to look, he found Lila Valentine heading in his direction.
“What’s this about?” he muttered under his breath.
“I have no idea,” Quinn replied. “That’s Julia West’s assistant.”
“Really?” Paul plastered a fake smile on his face and greeted her with a hearty hello. “Do you need something?”
If Lila was uncomfortable with being the center of attention, she didn’t show it. “Well, I was hoping to talk to you, Mr. Landis.” She shifted from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “If that’s okay, I mean.”
“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be okay.” He patted the open seat between Quinn and himself. “Have you met Mr. Davenport and Ms. Gray? They work on the ship. I’ve been questioning them because I have ideas about setting a book on a cruise ship and they’re helping with my research.”
Quinn was impressed with the smooth way he delivered the information. It was doubtful Lila would care why the trio was eating together, but if someone questioned her, she would have the story at the ready. That was a good thing.
“That sounds nice. I bet it’s a good book.” Lila wiggled on the chair, clearly searching for courage. Finally, she blurted out what she’d approached the table to say. “You don’t have an assistant, right? That’s what everyone says. You’re notorious for doing everything yourself.”
“I’m old school,” Paul volunteered. “I’m something of a control freak so I like doing the work myself.”
“But you should focus on your words,” Lila argued. “You need to get the writing done. If you hired an assistant — me, for example — I could do all the other work you don’t have time for. Think of the extra hours that would garner.”
Paul’s expression was kindly as he studied the young woman’s morose features. “You’re out of a job now that Julia is dead, huh?”
“I am and I’m worried. I want to find a new job as soon as possible.”
“I can’t help you.” Paul almost looked sad. “I wish I wasn’t the control freak I am but hiring you would be like throwing money out the window because I would still feel the need to do everything myself.”
“Okay.” Lila was resigned. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“Don’t be sorry.” He patted her arm before she could flee. “I’ll ask around and see if anyone is hiring or looking to upgrade. The fact that you not only worked for Julia, but also put up with her attitude, should make you highly sought after. I bet you’re not unemployed for long.”
“I hope not.” Lila was morose. “I wanted to make this my long-term position. If someone doesn’t hire me ... .” She left it hanging and collected herself. “Anyway, thank you for your time. If you hear anything, please let me know.”
“I’ll definitely do that.” Paul watched her go, a mixture of amusement and sympathy warring for supremacy on his handsome face. “She’s worried now, but someone will snap her up. She’s too valuable to let walk away from the business.”
“She seems a little lost right now,” Quinn agreed. “She’s not our big worry, though. Our big worry is Rosalind. I don’t know how we’re going to be able to keep an eye on her twenty-four hours a day without her getting suspicious.”
“That is a quandary,” Paul agreed. “We should put our heads together and come up with something. We probably don’t have a lot of time.”
That’s exactly what Rowan was worried about. Time. She could feel it ticking away in the back of her head. She didn’t take it as a good sign.
14
Fourteen
Rowan spent the afternoon taking photographs. She had no choice. If she didn’t upload at least a hundred snapshots to the portal before the end of the day, she was convinced she would get in trouble. Quinn told her that was ridiculous and he would take care of it, but she was a rule follower in general.
That left Quinn to watch Rosalind, which he opted to do from a safe distance. Paul joined him.
“You seem at home here,” Paul noted as he sipped an iced tea in the shade. “How long have you been here?”
“Not overly long. Longer than Rowan, but that’s not saying much.”
“And you helped her when she first arrived, right?”
Quinn shrugged. “She was acting squirrelly. I couldn’t figure out what she was doing, why she was watching one of our passengers the way she was. At first I thought maybe she was a thief or something — which seems ridiculous in hindsight — but I constantly caught her spying on people.”
Paul chuckled at the mental image Quinn was conjuring. “She never was very stealthy.”
“No, but we’ve been working on it. Eventually she admitted what was going on and she showed the omen to me. I
saw it, wasn’t sure I believed it, but then when the passenger ended up dead ... well, I came to realize pretty quickly that she was telling me the truth.”
“Is that when you started dating?”
“Not exactly. We worked together for a few days. I convinced myself I was merely helping her and that it didn’t mean anything. Then I realized that I was wildly attracted to her. Fighting that seemed impossible. Then we started dating.”
“And you’ve been together ever since.”
“Pretty much.”
“No break-ups?”
Quinn slid Paul a sidelong look. “What is it exactly that you’re asking?”
“Nothing,” Paul said hurriedly, leaning forward. “I wasn’t asking anything. I was just curious.”
Quinn studied the man for what felt like a long time. In reality, it was probably only a few seconds. Still, he couldn’t shake the idea that Paul was holding something back. Slowly, realization began to dawn and suspicion took shape.
“You’re trying to decide if you can convince Rowan to leave the ship with you.” It was a statement, not a question.
Paul balked. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“I ... maybe.” Paul was pained as he met Quinn’s steady gaze. “I know you don’t see this because you think what I did was unforgivable — and I don’t forgive myself, so don’t assume that — but I miss her. I’ve missed her for the past ten years.
“Living without her is like living without a limb,” he continued. “Worse, it’s like living without a heart. The way my life is set up now, she could come with me and I would be able to keep her safe.”
“How?” Quinn’s pulse sped up. “How are you going to protect her?”
“We’re going to hide.”
“Is that how you want her to live her life?”
“Well ... no, but it’s the best option for her.”
“No, it’s the best option for you.” Quinn’s temper ratcheted up a notch. “You want her to give up the life she’s building to live in hiding with you. How is that going to work exactly? Will you live in a house together in the middle of the woods in another country? What about what she wants? What about what she needs?”
Farewell Seas Page 13
