Quinn snagged her hand as she moved toward the door. “I swear we’re going to have a full day in bed together — and soon — but I’m afraid we only have a short window here.”
“I’m not angry.”
“No, but you’re disappointed.” Quinn could practically feel the regret washing over her. “I’m going to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have anything to make up to me.” Rowan was firm. “This is important. You’re not trying to leave me behind or anything. I would’ve been angry about that. You’re including me. That means you have nothing to apologize for.”
“I wouldn’t leave you behind for anything.” Quinn slipped a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sticking close until this one is done. I think it’s bigger than we initially suspected.”
“So, let’s figure it out.”
“Definitely.” Quinn gave her a quick kiss as his phone dinged with an incoming text message. “It’s Fred. He’s downstairs waiting. It’s time to go.”
“Is it wrong that I’m glad he’s going with us?” Rowan queried as she collected her purse. “I like knowing that he’s watching your back, especially since I have no idea what I’m supposed to be watching out for.”
“I like that he’s going to be there watching your back. The thing I want most is to keep you safe.”
“We’ll be safe together.”
“That’s the plan.”
FRED PARKED IN FRONT of a nondescript bungalow on the other side of town forty minutes later. They were careful as they approached, initially stopping two blocks away so they could survey the street. When Fred and Quinn were convinced the house wasn’t being watched, they completed their approach.
“A quiet house on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood,” Fred mused. “You know how I feel about too much quiet, Quinn.”
“Yes, you think it’s unnatural.” Quinn craned his neck as he attempted to stare into the backyard of the house. “I don’t see anyone out and about. That’s not normal.”
“It’s a work day,” Rowan reminded him. “Most people are at work.”
“This is Florida,” Quinn pointed out. “Half the population is retired.”
“Not in this neighborhood. This is a working-class community. There are toys in the yards, and no one is sitting on the front porches spying. This isn’t a retirement neighborhood.”
“You know, she has a point.” Fred rubbed his chin as he glanced around. “You have a good eye, Rowan. I didn’t catch that right away. You’re right, though. This is a working neighborhood.”
“I’m extremely observant.” Rowan preened under the compliment. “I used to work for a newspaper, shooting photographs for stories and ads. I learned how to read a neighborhood pretty quickly because I spent a lot of time working in Detroit.”
“I’ve been to Detroit.” Fred was matter of fact. “It’s nowhere near as bad as everyone makes it out to be.”
“It’s not exactly safe, though,” Rowan pointed out. “It’s important to be able to read a neighborhood in Detroit. It’s an ability I’ve carried over from my days as a photojournalist.”
“It’s a nifty trick.” Fred slid his eyes to Quinn. “How do you want to approach this?”
Quinn rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the question. “I think we should go through the fence and enter the house through the sliding glass door if there is one. This is Florida, so I’m going to guess there’s a covered patio area out there.”
“That sounds like a plan to me.”
Rowan balked, incredulous as she glanced between them. “We’re breaking in?”
Quinn shifted so he could snag her gaze. “You should stay here.”
“No way.” Rowan vehemently shook her head. “You can’t leave me in a truck in Florida. I’ll die of heat exposure.”
“I can leave the truck running,” Fred offered. “You won’t die of heat exposure with the air conditioning pointed at you.”
“No. I’m going with you. I wasn’t trying to get out of it. I was simply ... confused. I’ve never broken into anyone’s house before.”
Quinn graced her with an amused smile. “You never had a massage until a few hours ago either. Look how well that went.”
“Fair enough.” Rowan pulled her purse strap over her head and shoved the bag under the seat. “I don’t want to have to worry about it if we have to run.”
“We’re not going to run,” Fred said. “That rarely happens. You watch too many movies.”
“I’m just covering all my bases,” Rowan sniffed. “There’s nothing wrong with being prepared.”
Fred snickered as he slid a look to Quinn. “I’m starting to get what you see in her.”
“If it’s taken you this long, you’re dumber than I thought,” Quinn challenged.
“Oh, I got the part where she was pretty and sweet,” Fred drawled. “This sassy thing she’s got going is hot, though, and her need to be prepared is downright adorable.”
“She’s the whole package,” Quinn agreed. “She’s also mine so don’t try turning on your non-existent charm. It will force me to beat you up and we don’t have time for testosterone theater.”
“We’ll save that for later,” Fred supplied, killing the truck engine before pocketing the keys. “Be quick and go straight to the gate. Don’t meander and draw attention to us.”
“What if Bart is inside, though?” Rowan challenged. “Won’t he be upset if we simply show up in his backyard?”
“He’ll get over it. I doubt very much he’s inside.”
“So ... what are we looking for?”
“Information,” Quinn replied. “If he knew something, maybe he left a clue behind that we can discover. I don’t expect to get a pile of answers here, but something to go on would be nice.”
“Okay, let’s do it.” Rowan’s smile was so wide it threatened to swallow her entire face. “Do I look like a private investigator? I don’t want to stand out. I’m going for Trixie Belden rather than Nancy Drew.”
Love welled in Quinn’s chest as Fred barked out a laugh.
“No, seriously, man. I want one of her,” Fred said. “She is hilarious.”
“She has her moments,” Quinn agreed. “Come on. We don’t have time to waste. Let’s get this done.”
FRED AND QUINN COCOONED Rowan between them for the short walk across the road and up the sidewalk. Quinn led the way, making sure to keep his attention forward rather than give in to his urges and look over his shoulder.
One of the first things he learned when training to be a security operative was that if you looked as if you were supposed to be there — even if you were breaking the law — the odds of someone questioning you were slim. He embraced that tactic now as he opened the gate and ushered Fred and Rowan to the other side.
“You were right,” Fred said after a few minutes. “There’s a patio here. I doubt he thought to lock the sliding glass doors.”
Now that they were about to actually break the law, Rowan’s nerves returned with a vengeance. “What if he’s inside with a girlfriend or something?” she whispered. “I would hate to interrupt him in a private moment. That’s always a bummer.”
Amused despite the serious situation, Quinn sent her a crooked smile. “Sweetie, why don’t you stay here? Fred and I will go inside. We won’t be long.”
Rowan made an exaggerated face. “I’m not staying behind. That’s not what I meant. I was simply suggesting that he could be with someone.”
“She’s losing that cute factor,” Fred complained as he strolled to the sliding glass door. “Hold on.” He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and placed it over his hand before he tugged on the door. To absolutely no one’s surprise, it opened right away. “Let’s move, folks.”
“Does he really just walk around with a handkerchief in his pocket so he can break into places?” Rowan asked, her voice low and incredulous. “That is so strange.”
“Shh.” Quinn pressed his lips to Rowan’s to silence her. “It’s
time to be quiet, Ro. Please.”
Rowan nodded, her stomach twisting as Quinn grabbed her hand and led her into the house. She was unbelievably nervous. While she didn’t fancy herself a goody two shoes she wasn’t exactly the rule-breaking type either. She was somewhere in the middle. The fact that Fred and Quinn were completely comfortable breaking the law threw her for a loop.
Fred stopped in the small dining room as they entered the main house. He cocked his head to the side and listened for a long beat, finally shaking his head. “I don’t think anyone is here.”
“I don’t either,” Quinn confirmed. He wasn’t whispering, but he kept his voice low and calm. “I say we do a quick search and get out.”
“That’s the plan,” Fred agreed. “Let’s head toward the bedrooms. If he was hiding information, it’s likely to be in an office or something.”
“I agree.”
Quinn kept Rowan’s hand in his as they wandered through the house. There was nothing that stood out about the abode. It’s as a typical bachelor pad, meaning the living room was taken up by a massive television and couch and pretty much nothing else. Rowan managed to tamp down her nerves enough to keep up, but she was anxious to get out of the house. That feeling was reinforced when they passed what looked to be a bedroom and Rowan was certain she caught sight of a familiar pink fabric on the bed.
“The office is this way, Ro,” Quinn prodded when she stopped in front of the cracked door. “That’s the bedroom. We’ll hit the office first.”
“I ... um ... .” Rowan dully reached out to push open the door. She couldn’t find words to describe what she believed was inside, but she also couldn’t look away.
Realizing what she was going to do at the last second, Quinn slapped her hand away and used his elbow to open the door. “No fingerprints, Ro,” he hissed. “You need to be careful.” Whatever else he was going to say died on his lips when he caught sight of the figure on the bed. “Oh, crap.”
“What are you guys looking at?” Fred’s agitation was on full display as he tracked back to the bedroom. “I said we were going to the office.”
“We have a problem.” Quinn swallowed hard as he slipped his arm around Rowan’s back and tugged her to him. “That’s Bart.”
Fred followed Quinn’s finger with his gaze and frowned at the body on the bed. There was no movement, and the stench of death was obvious now that the door was open. “Oh, well, that’s not good.” He trudged into the bedroom, making sure not to touch anything. “Geez. He’s got a bag over his head.”
“It’s supposed to look like a suicide,” Quinn supplied, turning Rowan’s face into his neck so she wouldn’t stare too hard at the scene. “He’s wearing the same outfit he had on when he left The Bounding Storm.”
“I wondered why he was wearing pink,” Fred said dryly. “He’s been dead for a good forty-eight hours. The air conditioning was cranked up to cut back on any critters and smell issues that might occur in hot and humid conditions.”
Rowan felt sick to her stomach. “Why would he kill himself with a bag over his head? That’s not normal.”
“Actually, it’s more normal than you think,” Quinn said, stroking her hair as he fought to remain calm. “It’s something people do so it’s impossible to change their minds. Once that zip tie is tightened, there’s no going back.”
“So ... you think he killed himself?”
“I don’t know.” Quinn’s voice was soft. “We’ll give that some thought later. We need to get out of here.”
“I’ll say you need to get out of here,” a new voice interjected, causing everyone to jolt at the same time.
Fred readied a fighting stance as Quinn growled. “Wait,” Quinn instructed when Fred was ready to pounce. “We know him.”
“You know him?” Fred cocked a dubious eyebrow, but marginally relaxed.
“We do,” Quinn confirmed. “He’s an FBI agent.”
Alex Masters shuffled into the room, a look of disgust on his face as he glanced between faces. “You have got to be kidding me. You didn’t do that, did you?”
Quinn shot him a withering look. “What do you think? We ran into Jasper Fitzgerald in the lobby of the hotel and he told us Bart was missing. We decided to check for ourselves.”
“The only reason I believe you is because I saw you in the backyard,” Alex said. “I was two houses down watching to see if I could catch a glimpse of Bart myself. We’ve been looking for him.”
“Why not just let yourself into his house?” Rowan asked, legitimately curious. “Can’t you get a warrant for that?”
“Not when we don’t have a reason to ask for the warrant.” Alex gave Quinn an odd look. “Why are you holding her like that?”
“Because there’s a dead body on the bed and she doesn’t need nightmares.”
“She’s a horror movie freak. She’s seen worse than this.”
“Except she knows that’s not real.”
“Fair point.” Alex shrugged. “As for Bart here, I need you guys out of this house right now. I have to call this in and if I don’t do it in a timely manner, my co-workers will realize something is up.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Fred grabbed Quinn’s arm and directed him toward the door. “We’ll just get out of your way.”
“Wait a second.” Rowan fought being dragged from the room. “What were you doing here?”
Alex shrugged. “I told you. I was watching the house.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
Rowan’s annoyance was on full display when she shifted toward Quinn. “We can’t just let him send us out of here without any answers. That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, Ro.”
“I know but ... this ties in to what’s happening to us,” Rowan persisted. “We deserve some answers.”
“You do deserve answers,” Alex conceded. “You deserve a lot of them. The thing is, I can’t give them to you. We all have rules to follow, and that includes me.”
“Oh, please.” Rowan dramatically rolled her eyes. “I’m sure your rules don’t include letting us run from a scene like this. You just pick and choose the rules you want to follow depending on what is convenient for you.”
Instead of being offended, Alex grinned. “I’ve always had a soft spot for you. I can’t explain it.”
“You’d better forget about that soft spot,” Quinn warned. “As for us, Rowan, he’s trying to do us a favor. We need to leave right now. I’ll explain it to you on the way back to the hotel.”
Rowan wasn’t convinced. “But ... I want to know what happened here.”
“We all do,” Alex said. “Trust me, this is bigger than you realize. I don’t have time to hold your hand, though. I need you out of here.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Oh, and if the cops show up at your door to ask questions, play stupid. I’m hoping none of the neighbors saw you guys break in, but I can’t guarantee it. When in doubt, deny everything.”
“You’ve got it.” Quinn was firm as he pushed Rowan out of the room. “I’m assuming you’ll be in touch.”
“As soon as I can.”
“Good luck.”
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
15
Fifteen
Fred dropped Rowan and Quinn back at the hotel, promising to delve further into his background checks before departing.
With nothing better to do than wait for the police to show up, the couple changed into comfortable clothes and crawled into bed to watch television. Rowan’s initial adrenaline rush flagged not long after Quinn turned on the television and she drifted off, her head on his shoulder. Quinn was happy for the reprieve. He spent the next two hours softly rubbing her back and considering recent developments.
Was Bart a killer? That was the obvious question bothering Quinn. He believed he was a relatively good judge of character and never saw anything in Bart’s demeanor to suggest the man was hiding something. That didn’t mean Bart was innocent, of cou
rse. Quinn had been fooled before ... and recently. Still, the more Quinn reflected on his time with the man, the more he believed the opposite. It was far more likely Bart knew something, which meant he had to be shut up.
It didn’t seem necessary at the time, but in hindsight Quinn wished he would’ve spent more time getting to know the Andromeda workers. The only one he talked to for more than a few minutes was Bart, and once the men were safely on board the ship, he lost interest and went to bed.
Still, there were some troubling issues. One of the biggest was the fact that Danielle registered fifty-one names at check-in that night. They found places for fifty-one people to sleep. So where did Peter Cortland go that night? He was in the dining room for a time, and then he disappeared. Rooms were doled out to several men and then the rest were put in the salon. They only acquired bedding enough for fifty-one people, so that meant Peter never planned to stay with the others.
The FBI hadn’t released a cause of death. Quinn didn’t expect them to — they were hardly beholden to him, after all — but having a clear timeline to work with might help when it came to solving this. All he could say with absolute certainty was that Peter died sometime after leaving the dining room and most likely before guests woke and workers rose for their shifts the next morning. That was still a good six-hour window to work with.
Quinn had his men double and triple check the cameras around the ship. There weren’t any close to the chute, although he had every intention of fixing that going forward. None of the other cameras caught any movement, though. The camera in Rowan’s hallway was on the fritz at the time her camera was stolen. If he had to guess, that meant whoever stole the camera (and killed Peter) had possession of a digital recorder hack that allowed him to shut down the cameras.
Of course, Quinn was working on the assumption that one person was responsible for all of this. It was possible several people were working together. Heck, Bart could be part of that group. If he knew too much, he might have been killed to keep that knowledge buried.
One thing was certain, Quinn was positive that Bart hadn’t killed himself. The man was upbeat and gregarious during their conversation. Also, he was thankful for being saved. There was no motive for suicide, unless he really did kill Peter — perhaps on someone’s orders — and he was starting to regret it.
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