Fred’s expression was curious as he slid his friend a sidelong look. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
Quinn shook himself out of his reverie. “What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“Because I’ve met you. Heck, after our stint overseas, there are times I think I’m more in tune with your needs than mine.”
“I think that sounds like a gross exaggeration.”
“And yet you’re obviously upset,” Fred prodded. “What gives? I thought Rowan was going to be okay.”
“She is,” Quinn replied hurriedly. “She’s going to be fine. She needed some stitches ... and she’s on antibiotics. She’s a little uncomfortable, but in two weeks she should be back to normal. In six weeks she might only have a small scar left.”
“So, what’s the problem?” Fred was a patient man and he planned on waiting out his friend whether the mopey security chief realized it or not.
“The problem is... she’s mad at me.” Quinn felt like a dope admitting it.
Fred blinked his eyes several times in rapid succession. “Excuse me?” he said finally. “Did you just say she’s mad at you?”
“I did.”
“And that’s your problem?”
Quinn made a groaning sound as he shook his head. “Oh, don’t give me grief. I know it sounds ridiculous.”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t sound ridiculous at all. She’s mad at you. The world is surely coming to an end.”
“Knock it off,” Quinn warned, extending a finger. “I can only take so much.”
“That’s probably because she’s mad at you. Your defenses are down and you’re contemplating the meaning of the universe, which means you’ll overload if you’re expected to take much more of this.”
“I hate you sometimes.” Quinn rubbed his forehead. “Seriously, you’re a complete and total jerk when you want to be.”
“And you’re acting like a crybaby.” Fred refused to back down. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on and we’ll see if we can solve your problem, huh? There’s no sense moping about it instead of trying to fix it.”
“Rowan is mad at me.”
“So you’ve said.”
“She’s frustrated because the Sterlings sent us an invitation to a memorial party they’re hosting at their compound tonight. She thinks we should go and see if we can unmask a killer.”
Fred cracked a smile. “Is that how she phrased it? She’s pretty darned cute.”
“She’s adorable,” Quinn agreed. “She’s also recovering from being shot.”
“I hate to be the one to point out the obvious, but things could’ve been a heck of a lot worse. If you’re going to get shot, the wound she received is about as good as it gets. Er, well, other than a butt shot.”
Quinn didn’t want to laugh. It seemed like the wrong reaction. He couldn’t stop himself, though. “That’s pretty funny.”
“Thanks. I’m here all week.” Fred clapped his friend on the shoulder and shot him a pointed look. “She’s okay. You can’t hover. Besides, you fell in love with her because she was a go-getter and didn’t back down whenever trouble appeared. I don’t think it’s right to suddenly change the rules on her, do you?”
“I’m not changing the rules. It simply seems to me that, after getting shot — and I don’t care if it’s a small wound or not — she should be taking it easy. She should not be wanting to immediately set off on an adventure that involves hanging around with potential killers.”
“Oh, wow. Listen to you.” Fred’s eyebrows hopped. “I didn’t realize you were such a killjoy. Perhaps you missed your calling. You should have business cards made up that say ‘Quinn Davenport: Professional Worrywart.’ I think those would go over well.”
Quinn scowled. “It’s not funny. No matter how you try to paint it as hysterical, it’s the exact opposite.”
“Oh, poor baby.” Fred absently patted his hand. “I don’t know how you survive the turmoil in your life.”
“And I’m done talking to you.” Quinn held up his hand to silence his friend. “Let’s get to digging. You got the access we were looking for, right?”
“You mean did I manage to sweet talk one of my contacts in the police department into allowing me into the sealed files? I did. You owe me.”
“I’m sure the secretary you sweet talked will be willing to pony up your fee soon enough.”
“You have a point. Let’s get searching so I can find out.”
“On that we can agree.”
ROWAN ENJOYED SPENDING time with her father and uncle. Sure, they waited on her hand and foot and insisted she rest even though she was feeling fine. It was still a nice afternoon. That didn’t stop her mind from traveling to her morning argument with Quinn.
“You need to let that go,” Nick chided as he delivered a new glass of iced tea.
“I didn’t say anything,” Rowan protested. “How do you even know what I was thinking?”
“Because it’s written all over your face. And, believe it or not, it’s impossible for you to hide what you’re feeling.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘impossible.’”
“I would.”
Rowan let loose a long-suffering sigh that caused Nick to smirk. “I can’t stop thinking about Quinn.”
“Yes, you two are ridiculously cute together.”
“Not that. He really irritated me this morning.”
“Because?”
“Because he just issued a decree without considering how I felt about it. I mean ... I’m an adult. I’ve been making decisions for a very long time. Heck, technically I started making decisions before I was an adult.”
Paul exited the house at the same moment she uttered the statement. The look of regret on his face was profound. “I’m sorry about that.”
Rowan rolled her eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to turn into a conversation about that again. No, seriously. I don’t mean to make you feel bad. I’m just annoyed with Quinn.”
“Because he wants to protect you?” Nick asked gently.
“Because he issued an edict. He didn’t voice his concerns. He just said ‘no’ and ‘because I said so’ when I argued with him. That’s not a true relationship.”
Nick and Paul exchanged mirthful looks, amusement positively rolling off them.
“Well, that’s one way to look at it,” Paul hedged as he took the seat next to Rowan. “The other way to look at it is that he loves you so much he can’t help but put your safety above all else.”
Rowan’s expression was withering. “What a load of crap.”
Nick had to press his lips together to keep from laughing. “You disagree?”
“Of course I disagree. Quinn is supposed to be my partner, my equal. An equal doesn’t simply boss someone around and say ‘deal with it’ when there’s a complaint. That’s not a fair and equable relationship.”
“My dear, I think you’re going to discover that ‘fair and equable’ are not words that can be ascribed to a relationship,” Nick countered. “As much as you want the balance of power to be even, that’s rarely possible.
“In an unhealthy relationship, that power always rests with the same individual,” he continued. “In a healthy relationship, the power position continually switches between the two parties. That means you’re on top one day and he is the next. Are you saying Quinn is always in charge?”
Rowan balked. “No.”
“That means there are times you’re in charge.”
“Well, yeah.”
“So ... what’s the problem?”
Rowan made a growling sound deep in her throat. “I hate it when you’re all ‘I’m reasonable and you’re melting down like a petulant female,’” she groused. “That’s not what’s going on.”
“I should hope not.” Nick remained unruffled. “You’re a strong woman and I would never accuse you of being petulant ... unless you were being petulant.” His eyes twinkled with delight as she made a face. “I need you to tell me what you specifically think he did wrong,
Rowan.” He steepled his fingers and rested them on his stomach. “I can’t hate the boy unless I know why I’m supposed to be doing it.”
“I don’t want you to hate him,” Rowan said hurriedly, making a face. “I definitely don’t want you to hate him. It’s just ... he’s being bossy.”
“I see. Would you think you were being bossy if the situations were reversed?”
Rowan’s face was blank. “What do you mean?”
“If Quinn were the one who was shot and he wanted to immediately head out to confront the people who did it two days later, what would you say?”
Rowan’s mouth dropped open. “I ... you ... .”
“That wasn’t really an answer.”
She collected herself. “That’s because it wasn’t a fair question.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I don’t want to confront the people who shot me. That’s a ridiculous assumption.”
“Is it?” Nick refused to back down. “Why else would you want to attend the party? You didn’t know Pat Sterling or his daughter. You’re not an investigator. Why would you want to expose yourself that way?”
“Because they fell into our laps,” Rowan replied simply. “I was there the night they were plucked from the water. It felt like a miracle. I know that sounds simplistic, but it’s the truth. I thought we did something really good.”
“I believe saving lives is always a good thing,” Nick agreed.
“What if we didn’t, though?” Rowan rubbed the back of her neck as she readjusted to get more comfortable. “What if we played into their hands and helped them carry out a murder plot that they’re going to get away with?”
“I think that you’re jumping to a lot of assumptions,” Nick responded. “First off, news hasn’t even broken that the hand belongs to Pat Sterling. Very little attention has been paid to the discovery, mind you, because people assumed it was some sort of accident at sea. The media hasn’t put together the possibility that the hand belonged to a member of the Sterling family. If they had, the police would be under pressure to release what they know. As of now, they’re merely floating ... which is a good thing.”
Rowan knit her eyebrows. “How do you figure that?”
“The police don’t yet want the public to know that Pat Sterling couldn’t have died the way it’s been playing out in newspapers and on television. Why do you think that is?”
“I ... don’t know.”
“I’m guessing it’s because they’re setting a trap,” Paul offered. “They need time to do that. Pushing the matter doesn’t benefit anyone.”
“No, but the Sterlings are walking around as if they don’t have a care in the world. That doesn’t seem fair.”
“I don’t think they’re doing anything of the sort,” Nick countered. “I think they’re panicking. You said yourself that Quinn informed the brother about the hand. There’s no way at least some of the Sterlings don’t understand they’re in real trouble because the story they spun is about to unravel.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Quinn refused to listen to my suggestion and instead unilaterally decided that we weren’t going to the party. That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Paul countered. “As for Quinn, I happen to agree with him on this one. It’s not safe for you there after what happened. He made the right decision.”
“That’s the point, though,” Rowan snapped. “He made the decision. We’re supposed to make those decisions together.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on him?” Nick queried. “I mean, after all, he’s doing what he feels is best for you. He’s not perfect, but he’s trying really hard to make sure you’re safe. You can’t hate his motives.”
“Just his methods,” Rowan agreed. “I really hate his methods.”
“Well, I suggest you give him a little time to calm down,” Paul supplied. “I’m willing to bet that, once he calms down and gets over the fear he felt when you were injured, that he’s going come to his senses and remember that your particular partnership only works if you both give and take with regular frequency.”
That wasn’t the answer Rowan wanted to hear. “I thought you guys would tell me he was stupid and agree that he should stop being a jerk.”
Paul chuckled. “Sometimes life doesn’t turn out how you think it’s going to. I can’t agree with you simply to agree with you. In this instance, I believe Quinn is right, though. His methods may be ham-handed, but his love for you is true. Perhaps you should give him a break.”
“Yeah, yeah.” She moved her neck and then tapped the pad she was doodling on. “Come on. Let’s go back to brainstorming about the Sterlings. I figure at least two of them have to be involved, maybe more. We need to figure out what’s going on.”
“Of course we do.” Nick’s lips curved as he shook his head. “You are a true joy sometimes, Rowan. Has anyone ever told you that?”
“I tell myself that every day.”
“Good enough.”
QUINN AND FRED WADED THROUGH eight files before they found what they were looking for regarding Winchester’s smuggling arrest. It was buried in the case files of one Ronald Richter, a detective who had since retired. His files were a mess, but Quinn eventually discovered the one document that would ultimately allow them to see the bigger picture.
“Here it is.” He furrowed his brow as he read aloud. “‘When confronted with the evidence, Winchester agreed to act as a spy. It was his idea, as long as he got a deal. I wanted to arrest him, but the prosecutor said we needed help, so Winchester became our inside man.’”
“I don’t think that’s surprising,” Fred noted. “We’ve known the guy is a weasel since the start. He’s clearly the sort of man who will turn on whoever is necessary to save his own neck.”
“Right.” Quinn pursed his lips. “There’s another notation here. It says Winchester volunteered inside information within thirty minutes of being questioned. Richter says that he thinks Winchester always had this in his back pocket as an escape route.”
“Also not that surprising. If I were in Winchester’s position, I totally would’ve done the same thing.”
“The difference is, you would’ve never done what Winchester did.”
“I would like to think so,” Fred countered. “I hold myself up to a certain moral standard. Still, if times were desperate and I had family to take care of, I might’ve done the same thing. I can’t say otherwise without being in his position.”
“I can say otherwise.” Quinn was firm. “That’s not who you are. You’re a good guy and you always try to do the right thing.”
“Yeah, well ... .”
“Here’s another notation.” Quinn was fascinated by the file and couldn’t look away. “‘I argued with the prosecutor about giving Winchester such a lenient deal, but it’s too late. They’ve both already signed off on it.’”
“That’s one of Richter’s personal notes, right?”
Quinn nodded. “Yup. He wrote it in the margins. He must’ve been agitated and wanted to mark it all down for posterity in case someone dug in the records again, which would only happen if Winchester was being investigated.”
“He wanted to make sure he wasn’t seen as the bad guy.”
“Exactly.” Quinn scrubbed his cheeks as he clicked to the next page. The original documents had been scanned in and were PDFs, which meant they couldn’t be changed, and he was fascinated to read about Richter’s growing agitation. “Here’s another one. He says he had to meet with Winchester, who was late because he was seeing his daughter. He says Winchester only cares about being a father when it’s convenient.”
Fred’s forehead wrinkled. “Father? Did we know he was a father?”
“No. He didn’t mention it and I don’t remember seeing it in his records.”
“So, what happened to his kid?”
“That’s a very good question.” Quinn flipped another page as Fred started typing on his phone. “Can you get information on birth records?”
“Yeah. I pay to be part of that database. Let me see what I can find.”
“If Winchester really does have a daughter, I’m betting he used her as an excuse for what he was doing,” Quinn mused. “I mean, you said it yourself. If you were in a bad position and had dependents to take care of, you don’t know what you would do. I argue that Winchester would’ve done what he did regardless, but the kid served as a crutch of sorts.”
“I can totally see that happening,” Fred agreed, his eyes fixated on his phone. “Here we go. I found the birth record. It’s for a girl. She’s in her twenties. He’s listed on the birth certificate.”
“What’s her name?”
“Um ... huh.”
Quinn arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like a loaded ‘huh.’”
“It’s a ‘well, this is interesting’ huh.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Winchester’s daughter doesn’t share his last name,” Fred supplied. “She took her mother’s last name.”
“Okay.”
“It’s Ariel Coltraine.”
Whatever Quinn was expecting, that wasn’t it. “Seriously?”
“Yup.”
“Well, that’s ... interesting.”
“You think?” Fred restlessly tapped his fingers on the desktop. “Winchester is crooked and dating the family matriarch behind the husband’s back. Ariel has a wonky record, isn’t exactly a paragon of virtue herself, and is sleeping with the rich son who is supposed to be getting married in a few weeks.”
“This has ‘elaborate scam’ written all over it.”
“What was your first clue?” Fred inclined his chin toward the computer. “Keep digging. I bet there’s more.”
Quinn didn’t doubt that, and for the first time in days, he felt as if they were finally getting somewhere. “Maybe the party isn’t such a bad idea after all. It is going to be out in the open.”
“I knew you would see things her way eventually. You’re a big marshmallow where she’s concerned.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
18
Eighteen
Quinn thought he’d put his foot down where the party was concerned. He was convinced taking Rowan was a mistake and had no intention of playing into her pouty nature.
Farewell Seas Page 36
