Quinn, who’d been standing behind his desk, collapsed in the office chair.
“What’s with all the guilt?” Billie said.
He shook his head, but didn’t answer. She went around to the other side of the desk. With a bent forefinger she tipped his head to look into his eyes. “None of this is your fault.”
He stood and brushed past her. “Your husband lost his job, his hope and his pride. He was forced to turn to crime to pay the bills.”
“No one forced him—”
“I closed the plant.” He spun around and pinned her with blazing blue eyes. “Did you know that? Me and two other silent partners shut it down because numbers were dropping. Just like that—” he snapped his fingers “—I shut the plant down and hundreds of people were out of work.”
“As I recall you offered them severance packages and retraining.”
“Meaningless.” He paced to the window and crossed his arms over his chest. “You had a good marriage, a nice life and I’m responsible for destroying that.”
Struck momentarily speechless, Billie wasn’t sure how to pull Quinn out of this self-recrimination spin, but she knew one thing for sure: he’d done nothing wrong.
She thought about his stepmother’s violent words. She’d convinced a little boy that he was responsible for his mother’s death, that somehow he’d driven her into an early grave. Was he replaying that scenario in his head by convincing himself Rick’s choices were a direct result of Quinn’s business decisions?
“Quinn, look at me.” She stepped close and waited. “Please?”
He slowly turned to meet her gaze, his eyes lit with guilt, anger and regret.
“Rick was a grown man. He made his own choices. No one pushed him into anything.”
Quinn shook his head. She placed an open palm against his cheek.
He sighed. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t deserve your compassion, not after what I’ve done.”
“What, protected me? Gave me a home after Rick died and his family abandoned me?”
“Don’t make me sound like a hero, Billie. I’m not a hero.”
“In my eyes you are,” she said with such admiration.
He studied her as if experiencing what she felt for him, for the first time.
She offered a tender smile and she thought he was going to kiss her—
Alex knocked on the door. “You both still alive in there?”
“Come on in,” Quinn answered, not breaking eye contact with Billie.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I think one of the search-and-rescue victims is a girl who went missing early this morning from Waverly Harbor. I need to check it out.”
“Are they okay?” Billie said. She’d completely forgotten about the text that was dispatched during church.
“No serious injuries. They’ve been transported to the hospital. Anyway, I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. Billie,” Alex said, giving her a brotherly hug. Then he turned to Quinn.
Billie noticed Quinn’s slight wince in anticipation of the hug. He must still be hurting.
“I’ll check in later.” Alex gave Quinn a quick hug and smiled at Billie. “Take care of him for me.”
“I’m trying,” Billie said.
Alex left them alone and Billie turned her attention to Quinn. “All this time...” she hesitated “...you’ve been wallowing in blame?”
“I don’t wallow, but the fact is, I am responsible.” He wandered out of his room.
She followed him. “I knew you had an ego, but I didn’t realize it was enormous.”
“This has nothing to do with my ego.” He went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator.
“Sure it does. You made a smart business decision and that had to be the only reason my husband became a criminal. It couldn’t be because of his weakness of character.” She reached around him and snatched an apple out of the bowl on the top shelf of the fridge. “Quinn Donovan, a powerful man who changes lives with a stroke of his pen.” She padded into the living room. He slammed the refrigerator door and followed.
“You had to sign paperwork to close the plant, right?” she continued. “To approve severance packages and retraining programs?”
He clenched his jaw, didn’t answer.
“What’s happening with the plant property?” she pressed.
“We’ve been trying to rezone it for retail.”
“Which would keep tax dollars in Snoquamish County.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Which will benefit everyone from the locals who want to shop and not have to drive an hour, to the high school kids who need after-school jobs to pay for college. It sounds wonderful, Quinn.”
He shook his head and sat on the sofa. “You’re talking me into circles.”
“I’m speaking the truth.” She sat next to him. “You took a bad situation and made it good.”
“How can you say that?”
“Quinn, you’re no more responsible for Rick’s choices and my life, than you are for your mother’s death.”
He snapped his attention to her and Billie thought for a second she’d overstepped the boundary.
“It’s amazing how well you know me,” he said softly.
“Which I hope is a good thing?”
His cell phone beeped. “Donovan. Yes.” He stood and paced to the sliding glass door. “You sure?... Okay, I’ll swing by as soon as I can. Thanks.” Quinn glanced at Billie. “I’ve gotta take care of something.”
“What about dinner?”
“Go ahead and order room service. I’ll eat when I get back.”
“Are you sure you should be driving?” She stood and walked him to the door.
“No broken bones, no concussion. I’m fine, remember?”
“But you must be sore.”
He smiled and fingered a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Don’t worry about me. Relax, listen to music. But promise me you won’t go anywhere.”
“Promise.”
“Thanks.” He opened the door and greeted Phil, the security guard. “No one in or out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quinn eyed Billie. “Don’t look so worried.”
“I can’t help it. Trouble seems to be your shadow lately.”
“I’ll be fine.” He walked away and glanced over his shoulder. “Shut the door, Billie.”
She inched it shut. Placing an open palm against the inside of the door she whispered, “Be safe.”
* * *
Quinn could have told Billie where he was headed, but then she would have demanded to go with him and he wouldn’t risk exposing her to her husband’s business associates.
Her husband’s friend Stuart sounded concerned when he’d called about finding an old box of Rick’s in his storage unit. Thinking it might help with the investigation, he contacted Quinn. Quinn didn’t want to call Detective Issacs until he knew he was picking up more than a bunch of outdated paperwork.
He parked in front of Stuart’s apartment building and noticed a soft glow reflecting through sheer curtains of the apartment window. With any luck Quinn would be back at the resort by dinner. The thought of sitting down for a quiet meal with Billie made him quicken his step. Their time together would end when they solved the burglary case, but until then he’d enjoy every meal, every moment with her.
It would have to last him a lifetime.
Once the thieves were caught and Billie was no longer in danger, Quinn would do the right thing and say his goodbyes. Yeah, and in the meantime he’d better stop kissing her.
Climbing to the second floor, he reflected on the almost kiss in his office earlier. It was everything he could do to stop himself from brushing his lips against hers, breathing in her floral scent and holding her until forever and t
hen some.
“Can’t happen,” he muttered.
He approached Stuart’s apartment and reached out to knock on the door. A crash echoed from inside.
“Stuart?” Quinn pounded on the door with his fist.
Silence.
Quinn pounded again. “Stuart, open the door!”
The door flew open and a man wearing a ski mask catapulted out of the apartment, shouldering Quinn against the wall. Stunned, Quinn stumbled and fell to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he rushed into the apartment.
“Stuart?” He turned the corner into the living room and spotted him on the ground, blood staining his shirt.
Quinn dropped to his knees beside the body. Stuart’s eyes fluttered open. “Opened the door. Thought it was you...”
Quinn called 9-1-1 and gave them the address. He grabbed a kitchen towel and shoved it against an apparent knife wound.
“The box,” he wheezed. “He wanted the box.”
“Where is it?”
“Trunk...of my car.” He gripped Quinn’s arm. “Billie...”
“What about her? Stuart, what about Billie?”
“They won’t stop...until they get her.” His eyes fluttered closed.
“Stuart, come on, buddy, open your eyes.”
“Hands where I can see them!” a man shouted behind Quinn.
FOURTEEN
Four hours passed without a word from Quinn. Billie called his cell phone, but it went straight to voice mail. She was tempted to call Aiden, but she got the sense Quinn’s business was off the resort property so Aiden wouldn’t know about it.
She tried reading. What a joke. She’d land on a phrase like “moonlit lake” and her mind would drift to a memory of when she lived in Quinn’s coach house. It was unusually warm one evening and she couldn’t sleep, so she went out onto the back porch and enjoyed the cool breeze. A few minutes later Quinn wandered across his property to the dock and stood there, studying the calm lake.
And she’d watched him, wondering what was going on inside that head of his that made him take a midnight stroll. He’d fascinated her, this enigma of a man who paraded women in and out of his house, using them as some kind of emotional shield to keep Billie away.
It didn’t take long for her to figure out there was more to Quinn Donovan than business deals and fleeting relationships. Much more.
She shook off the memory and called Quinn again. It went into voice mail. She left a message asking him to call her as soon as possible. By eleven she was frantic and called his brother, Alex. He didn’t answer either.
After another twenty minutes of pacing, the phone rang.
“Hello?” she said.
“Billie, it’s Alex.”
“Thanks for calling me back,” she said. “I’m worried about—”
“Quinn’s fine. He’s, uh, he’s unable to talk, but I saw him a few minutes ago. He’s okay.”
“What do you mean unable to talk? He’s not hurt is he?”
“No, no, nothing like that.”
“Don’t say it.”
“What?”
“He’s with a woman?”
“No,” Alex said firmly. “It’s not a woman and he’s not hurt.”
“Then where is he?”
A moment of silence, then, “He’s in Lake Stevens lockup.”
“What?”
“A man was murdered, Stuart Anderson.”
“Stuart? Oh, no,” she hushed, sadness coursing through her. “He was a friend of my husband’s.”
“Quinn was there when the cops arrived so they brought him in for questioning. Then they got a related call and are short staffed so they’re letting him sit in lockup until they get back.”
“Quinn did not kill anyone.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Billie.”
“You have to get him out.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Call Detective Issacs, he’ll help.”
“He hasn’t returned my calls.”
“I’m coming over.”
“He’d want you to stay at the resort where you’ll be safe. He didn’t want me telling you what happened.”
“When is he going to stop shielding me from everything?”
“My guess? Never.”
“Tough. I’ll bring my bodyguard. I’ll see you in forty minutes.” She ended the call and reflected for a moment, saying a prayer for Stuart.
Had Stuart’s friendship with Rick caused his death? With even more determination to put an end to this, she opened the door to Joe the security guard.
“Ma’am,” he said.
“I need to get to the Lake Stevens Police Department. Immediately.”
* * *
Forty minutes later Billie marched into the police station ready for battle. It was after midnight and she should be tired. Instead, she was energized by her determination to get Quinn out of jail.
Her conscience suggested that she was overstepping her bounds, that a restaurant hostess had no power to get a man out of jail. But she couldn’t stand by and watch Quinn suffer because he’d involved himself in her life.
She knew she was in no position to negotiate Quinn’s release, yet she had to see him, had to make sure he was okay.
She knocked on the door to the police department and someone buzzed her in. Joe followed her inside.
A uniformed cop greeted her. “Ma’am, is this an emergency?”
“I need to see Quinn Donovan.”
“I’m sorry but—”
“I’m more sorry,” she snapped. “It’s my fault he’s here.”
“Why do you say that, ma’am?”
“He wouldn’t have been at Stuart’s apartment if he weren’t looking into something regarding my husband’s criminal activity. It’s my fault and the least you can do is let me talk to him.”
The officer sighed. “His brother is with him. This way.”
She followed the officer into the cell area. Deep male voices drifted down the hallway.
“Enough already, Quinn,” Alex said.
“I made a promise.”
“To who? Billie?”
“No, to her husband.”
Billie stopped short, stunned. The police officer hesitated beside her.
“Whoa, whoa. Rewind,” Alex said. “Rick Bronson, the criminal?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t even know him until the day you rescued them off the mountain.”
“While we waited for the medics he begged me to look out for Billie. He said she deserved so much more than he was able to give her.”
“But that’s not why you’re doing all this, is it?”
Silence.
“Quinn?”
“I made a promise, Alex. I intend to keep that promise.”
The floor seemed to shift under Billie’s feet. All this time Quinn had been offering her aid and assistance because Rick had asked him to? Quinn was keeping his word to a stranger, to a criminal?
No, it may have started that way, but Billie refused to believe he continued to help her—and kiss her—out of a sense of duty.
She took a deep breath and turned the corner into the cell area. Quinn spotted her and turned away. “What are you doing here, Billie?”
“I was worried about you.”
“Alex told you I was fine. You put yourself in danger coming here.”
“I’m in a police station with a police officer by my side and a bodyguard in the office, not to mention your brother, the cop. I’m perfectly safe.”
“Maybe we should—” Alex motioned to the deputy and they left Quinn and Billie alone.
She leaned against the cement wall and studied him. He still wouldn’t look at her.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going
to Stuart’s?” she asked.
“Because I knew you’d want to come with me and I didn’t want to put you in danger.”
“Right, because you’d made a promise to protect me.”
He snapped his gaze to meet hers. “You heard that?”
“I did.”
He paced his small cell. “That’s probably a good thing. Now you know the truth.”
“That my husband felt remorse? Yes, it’s good to know he found his way back to grace in the end.”
“No, I meant now you know my true motivation. I made a promise to a dying man to protect his wife.”
“Which you’ve done brilliantly.”
“Not sure I agree with that. Anyway, you can understand why I didn’t want you to come with me tonight.”
“No, I don’t. We work much better as a team than we do apart. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“Billie, you’d be standing right here beside me.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be.”
Shaking his head, he paced to the opposite side of the cell. “I’m in jail.”
“A misunderstanding. We’ll clear it up shortly. Once we track down Detective Issacs, he’ll make things right.”
“Go back to the resort.”
“As soon as you’re released. We’ll return together.”
“I could be here all night.”
Billie pulled a fiction novel out of her purse and sat down on the floor. “Works for me. I’m at the good part.”
“What are you doing?” he said.
“Reading.” She glanced at him. “What are you doing? Oh, right, feeling sorry for yourself.” She waved him off, hoping her instincts were steering her in the right direction. “Let me know when you’re done.”
She focused on the pages, but sensed Quinn watching her with an intense expression. The man had too much pent-up anger and resentment directed at himself. Until she convinced him to let it go, he’d be controlled by the unhealthy emotions like a marionette controlled by a puppeteer’s strings.
Please, God, help me help Quinn.
The door clicked open and Alex stepped into the cell area. He glanced at Billie, then Quinn.
Mountain Pursuit: Smoky Mountain Investigation ; Mountain Rescue Page 36
