The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6)

by Shapiro, Irina

  Gabe shook his head, watching her intently. “I’ll take Emma to school and come back,” he said.

  “Don’t you have to go to work?”

  “I’ll come back,” Gabe repeated. “We’ll talk then.”

  “All right.”

  Quinn drank her tea, then poured herself another mug and moved into the lounge, where Alex was happily playing on his activity mat. She couldn’t seem to find the energy to do anything useful. On fine days she took Alex for a walk in the mornings and stopped at the shops to pick up a few things for dinner, but today she remained on the sofa, too listless to even change her clothes.

  Gabe returned a short while later. He shrugged off his coat, unwound his scarf, then walked over to Quinn, who looked up to meet his gaze. His cheeks were ruddy with cold when he kissed her.

  “All right?” he asked, his eyes searching her face. She knew he was worried, and she wished she could put his mind at rest, but Gabe was the one person who always understood and stood by her. He’d see things her way. Quinn waited until Gabe settled himself in a chair across from her and took the plunge.

  “Gabe, I’m going to look for Jo.”

  She’d expected an instant response, but he just stared at her, as if he hadn’t quite understood what she’d said.

  “I can’t just sit here and do nothing. My sister is out there somewhere, and no one seems to care. I’m going to find her.”

  “So, you want to go to Afghanistan to look for her?” Gabe asked, understanding finally dawning.

  “I must.”

  “Must you?” he asked sarcastically. His eyes narrowed and an angry flush bloomed on his cheeks.

  “Gabe, come on.”

  “Come on what, Quinn? I can’t believe we are even having this conversation. We’re not talking about you going to Manchester or even Edinburgh. We are talking about Kabul. People die in Kabul. It’s a warzone, if case you forgot.”

  “I have a responsibility to my sister.”

  “You have a responsibility to me,” Gabe snapped, his voice brittle with suppressed fury. “You have a family, a three-month-old baby, whom you’re still nursing. You have no right to put yourself in danger and go off on this wild goose chase. You don’t even know if Jo is truly in danger or just taking a bit of time off. Just because she’s off the grid doesn’t automatically mean she’s hurt.”

  “I won’t know that for sure unless I find her,” Quinn retorted.

  “Quinn, I forbid it. I absolutely forbid you to go to Afghanistan.”

  “Are you serious? You forbid me? Did you really just say that? I expect you of all people to understand and not go all medieval on me.”

  “Is it medieval to care about the safety of your wife and the mother of your children? Does finding Jo mean more to you than your safety and the emotional well-being of your children? What would I tell them if you didn’t come back?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Quinn cried.

  “Because Kabul is a dangerous place, and you’re obviously not thinking clearly if you even have to ask. Call the embassy, speak to Jo’s agent, contact her attorney, do what you must, but you can’t go to Afghanistan. I won’t let you.” Gabe was on his feet now, his voice rising in anger. “Quinn, if you insist on going through with this, we are finished. There will be no coming back from this, not if you completely disregard my feelings and put this misguided quest above your family. The choice is yours.”

  “Or what? You’ll divorce me?” Quinn challenged him.

  Gabe didn’t immediately reply, but his cold stare was answer enough. Quinn grabbed her purse and keys and stormed out of the flat, slamming the door behind her. She was shaking with anger, her mind exploding with outrage.

  “I forbid you,” Gabe had said. Where did he get off? Who did he think he was to even speak to her that way? This wasn’t a misguided quest; it was a rescue mission. Jo was her sister, not some mate from college or a pleasant coworker. Jo was family, she was blood, and she was in trouble. How could Gabe expect Quinn to just stand by and hope everything turned out okay? He would walk through fire to save someone he loved. Why did he expect anything less of her?

  Quinn strode toward the lift and repeatedly slammed her finger into the button. She was so angry she could barely breathe. The lift finally came, and the doors opened, ready to take her down to street level, away from Gabe, and away from her children.

  Quinn stared at the empty lift until the doors closed and she heard the cables shifting as the lift was called to another floor. She pressed her head to the cool metal doors and took several deep breaths. What did she think she was doing? Gabe was absolutely right. She had no right to put herself in danger. She had a family; a baby whose well-being came above anything she might feel at this moment. Gabe wasn’t being medieval, he was being sensible, and very patient. She’d unwittingly put herself in danger when she confronted Robert Chatham, then she’d nearly lost their baby when Brett had locked her in that tomb in New Orleans. Given her history, her judgement wasn’t as clear-eyed as she liked to believe. She was a wife and a mother, and by agreeing to take on those two roles, she’d given up the right to act on a whim and do what was best for her. She wanted to find her sister more than anything in the world, but rushing off to a war-torn country wasn’t the way to do it.

  Quinn slowly turned around and walked back to the flat. She let herself in and walked into the kitchen, where Gabe was warming up milk for Alex. He didn’t turn around, but stood facing the microwave, his shoulders rigid and his stance aggressive.

  “I’m sorry. You are right,” Quinn muttered. Gabe didn’t reply, but some of the defensiveness went out of his posture.

  “Gabe, please talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Gabe asked without turning around. He took the bottle out of the microwave, tested the milk on his hand to make sure it wasn’t too hot, and left the kitchen, with Quinn trailing behind him.

  “I want you to say you understand how I feel.”

  “I do understand, but that doesn’t mean I will stand by and support this lunacy. I found you half dead on the floor of that tomb in New Orleans. I died a thousand deaths while I waited for the doctors to find the fetal heartbeat to see if our baby had survived and if you were going to be all right. And then, I had to explain to a four-year-old why the woman she’d come to love and trust was nearly murdered only a few months after her mother died in a car crash. I allowed your drug-addicted brother to get away with taking Emma without permission, and then I stupidly went along when you decided to hire him as entertainment for Emma’s birthday party. Well, we all know how that turned out. I thank God every day Emma didn’t ingest the heroin she found.”

  “I never meant for those things to happen,” Quinn cried. It sounded horrible when put like that, as if it had all been her fault.

  “No, you didn’t, but they happened anyway because when it comes to your dysfunctional family you seem unable to think clearly.”

  “Tell me how you really feel, why don’t you!” Quinn exclaimed, using sarcasm to mask her hurt.

  “I am telling you how I really feel because I’m fighting for my life here, my future. This is where I draw the line.”

  “What are you telling me?”

  Gabe handed her the bottle. “I need some air. Please feed the baby.”

  Gabe turned on his heel and walked out of the room, then out of the flat, leaving Quinn quivering with guilt and shame. She wanted to be angry, to hate him for the things he’d said, but he had been right about each and every one. He could have mentioned a few other incidents, but he’d kindly abridged her catalogue of misjudgments. Quinn lifted the baby out of his crib and held him close, her tears anointing his downy black hair.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she kissed his silky cheek. “I’m really sorry. I’ll be a better mum, I promise. I’ll never let you down again.”

  Quinn fed and changed Alex, then sat down on the sofa, her head in her hands. It was another hour before Gabe finally returned.
He looked grim and his face was covered with a sheen of perspiration. He didn’t often exercise, but he must have been jogging the whole time he was gone, something he did to let off steam.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his expression sheepish. “I never meant to be cruel.”

  “You weren’t.” Quinn walked into his arms and pressed her face to his chest. His heart was racing. She didn’t know if it was due to the exercise or to stress, but it didn’t matter. “Are we okay? You won’t leave me?”

  “I was never the one who was leaving.”

  Gabe leaned down and kissed Quinn. The kiss was soft and tender and full of emotion, and she melted into his arms, thankful that he still loved her despite everything she’d put him through.

  “I know you’re hurting, but running off to Afghanistan is not the answer, and you’d know that if you gave yourself time to think. I love you, Quinn, and I love our life, and I will fight with everything I’ve got to protect it.”

  “You won’t have to. I’m not going anywhere,” she muttered into his chest.

  “Now, I’m going to take a shower and head into the office. Will you still be here when I come back?” Gabe asked. He was joking, but there was an underlying note of worry in his voice.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied, smiling guiltily. “I will be here, today and always. You needn’t worry.”

  Quinn waited until Gabe left to call Rhys. Thankfully, he wasn’t in a meeting and promptly took her call.

  “Quinn, how are you?” His voice was filled with concern, which made her feel a little better.

  She sighed. “Gabe and I had a massive row this morning,” she confessed. “He threatened to leave me if I went to Afghanistan to look for Jo.”

  “I would tell you you’re insane to even suggest such a thing, but I’m sure Gabe did a very thorough job of berating you. I certainly hope you saw sense and abandoned this crazy scheme.”

  “I have, but I can’t stop thinking about Jo, Rhys. How can I go on with my life as if nothing has happened when she’s out there somewhere, possibly hurt, or even dead?”

  “Quinn, I’ll go to Kabul,” Rhys suddenly announced.

  “What? Are you mad?” Quinn demanded.

  “I have a press pass. I can go just about anywhere, and people will answer my questions because I’m employed by a legitimate news outlet. I can find out what happened to Jo, and hopefully bring her back.”

  “Rhys, that’s an absolutely terrible idea. Why would you do that? Why would you put your life on hold and rush off to a country at war to look for a woman you barely know?”

  “First of all, I have no life just now, so there isn’t much to put on hold. I look for things to keep me from going home. I can’t bear the silence, or the emptiness I feel when I walk through the door. My daughter would have been born two months from now, but instead, all I can do is stare at the picture of the scan on the fridge, because that’s all I have left of her. The bottom dropped out of my world, so perhaps I need to focus on someone else for a while.”

  “And second?”

  “And second, I don’t have to know Jo; I know you.”

  “And that’s enough of a reason for you to fly off to Afghanistan?” Quinn smiled through her tears as she tried to understand Rhys’s sudden eagerness.

  “Yes, that’s enough of a reason. I can’t stand to see you suffer. I’d go mad with grief if Owain went missing, so I can understand your pain. Gabe is an only child; he’s never experienced that bond between siblings. Look, Quinn, I’ll make you a deal. You work on this new case and give it your full attention. I will go to Kabul and leave no stone unturned to find Jo. What do you say?”

  “Rhys, I won’t knowingly send you into danger.”

  “You’re not sending me. I’m volunteering. Will you take up the reins of the program while I’m gone?”

  “On one condition. If you don’t find Jo within a fortnight, you will return and give up this mad scheme.”

  Rhys thought about that for a moment. “All right. I agree.”

  “When will you go?”

  “As soon as I can make the arrangements.”

  “Thank you, Rhys,” Quinn said softly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Chapter 6

  May 1620

  Somewhere in the Atlantic

  Mary stretched out on the hard wooden floor and wrapped herself in her cloak. Thankfully, with the approach of summer, the weather had warmed up considerably, the howling, bitter wind replaced by a gentler spring breeze. Still, at night it grew cold, and Mary and Nell often snuggled together for warmth.

  Mary had become friendly with all the other women, given that there was nothing much to do but talk. After years of hard work and little rest, Mary found herself spending hours each day just being idle, a pastime she found nearly as difficult. There was nothing to do, and nowhere to go. The brief strolls on deck were usually accompanied by baleful stares from the sailors and lewd comments, whispered behind hands and coupled with insolent smirks and rude gestures. It was safer down below, but the lack of even the most basic comforts was difficult to bear.

  The buckets reeked of human waste, and often tipped over when the ship tilted and rocked on the roiling waters of the Atlantic, leaving the small space virtually uninhabitable until it was thoroughly washed with sea water. The women stank of unwashed bodies, menstrual blood, and simmering discontent. The further they traveled from England, the more unsettled they felt, having left a life they knew, but not having yet had a glimpse of the life that awaited them on the distant shores of the American continent.

  Mary spent most of her days talking to Nell and Betsy, with whom she felt most comfortable. The sisters, Faith and Prudence, kept mostly to themselves, and the rest of the women were younger and more idealistic, except for Alice, who’d been widowed twice, and Gwen, who was sour and quarrelsome by nature. Being forced to spend so much time in each other’s company led to arguments, and there had even been a near fist fight when Gwen called Rose’s intended, who’d died several months before Rose made the fateful decision to sail to Virginia, a ‘hapless milksop.’ Mary avoided Gwen as much as possible. The woman’s bitterness filled every crack and spread like a noxious odor, poisoning what was already a difficult journey.

  “I feel sorry for the poor sod who winds up with her for a wife,” Nell whispered to Mary one night. “Imagine having to wake to that sour mug every morning.”

  “I’m more worried ’bout what I’ll have to wake up to,” Mary replied. “Surely, not all the bachelors are young and well-formed.”

  “Be easy in your mind, Mary. No point fretting about something as hasn’t happened yet. You might get the best one of them all.”

  “Thanks, Nell, but I find it hard to share your shining dream of the future. I’ve spent the past seven years living above a tavern. If you want to see a man at his worst, just wait till he’s had a few pint pots.”

  Nell sighed. “I won’t argue with you there. I only hope there aren’t too many taverns in Jamestown.”

  “If what I’ve seen so far is anything to go on, the first two permanent buildings erected in Virginia must have been a tavern and a church.”

  Nell giggled. “Well, then let’s hope the third wasn’t a whorehouse.”

  Nell was often the first to fall asleep, while Mary lay awake for a long time, thinking and wondering. She was too shy to ask for information, which made her doubly grateful for Betsy, who had all the reserve of a hunting dog on a fox hunt.

  “So, how does it work, Master Harrington?” she badgered the quartermaster, who, despite his stern looks and curt answers, seemed to find her amusing. “How will we know our intended, and what will happen once they take us to their homes? Will we be living in sin?” Betsy asked, batting her eyelashes as if living in sin with Master Harrington was her fondest dream.

  The quartermaster sighed and gazed heavenward, likely asking the Lord for patience. “You will come ashore with me, and I will make the introductions.”

 
“Have you met our future husbands, then?” Betsy persisted.

  “No, Mistress Smyth, I haven’t, but I’m one of two people on this ship who have the authority to take charge of you once we dock, the other being the captain, and he can’t be bothered with you lot. He’s got more important business to attend to. After we dock, I will escort you to church, where you will meet your intended and be wed.”

  “What? Right away, like?” Betsy gasped.

  “Right away. Revered Edison will not permit any of the men to take their women home until their union has been sanctioned by the Church.”

  “Master Harrington, can we trouble you for some water and soap before we reach Jamestown?” Mary asked shyly. “I’d like to wash and launder my clothes.”

  Master Harrington wrinkled his nose and looked at the assembled women. “That’s a fine idea, Mistress Wilby. You won’t be winning any hearts smelling as you do now.”

  “You piss-drinking son of a poxed whore,” Gwen hissed at Master Harrington’s retreating back. “I’d like to see how fine you’d look after being caged for weeks on end and eating nothing but hard tack and salted pork.”

  “Come now, Gwen, he’s not so bad,” Betsy said, giving Gwen a sharp look. “At least he answers our questions and treats us with respect.”

  “Respect?” Gwen spit the word out as if it were poison.

  “If Master Harrington felt inclined to abuse his position, things could have gone a lot harder for us. He is a man, after all, one who’s denied the comforts of a woman for months on end. He wouldn’t be the first to help himself to what’s right under his nose.”

  “You are right there, Betsy,” Alice agreed. “He’s a true gentleman, no doubt about that. And he keeps the sailors in line. For all their crude comments, not one of them has laid so much as a finger on any of us.”

  “I can’t wait to get off this ship, Nell,” Mary said quietly. “Whatever awaits us on shore has to be better than being trapped in this wooden box for two months.”

  The following morning, when Mary and Nell were allowed up on deck, she decided to ask Nell the question that had been plaguing her for weeks. All the other women spoke of their lives back home and Mary knew more than she ever wished to about the circumstances that had led them to the Lady Grace. Nell, on the other hand, was always evasive when asked about her past, and adept at redirecting the conversation toward someone like Alice, who liked nothing more than to talk about herself. Except for Faith and Prudence, who had each other, all the women were either orphaned or widowed and had no one to rely on but themselves.