The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8)

by Shapiro, Irina

  “What are they having?”

  “A girl,” Quinn replied.

  “Have they settled on a name yet?” Nicola asked, clearly eager to chat for a while. She must have been bored, spending the entire day alone with Alex.

  “Jill likes Zoe, but Brian prefers Hannah. They will decide once the baby is born. Jill says she needs to meet her daughter to know which name fits best.”

  “Is it possible to know that early?”

  “Yes, I think it is. Sometimes the name just feels right.”

  “Come,” Gabe said, holding out a hand to her in his impatience. “I’m tired.”

  By tired, he meant he wanted to go to bed, but not necessarily to sleep. Quinn followed him to their room and kicked off her shoes, sighing with relief. “That’s the last time I wear four-inch heels,” she said with feeling. “Unzip me, please.” She turned her back to Gabe and waited, but he didn’t help her. “Gabe?”

  Turning back, Quinn was surprised to see Gabe sitting on the bed, his mobile in his hand. His gaze was fixed on the text he’d just opened.

  “What is it? What happened?” Quinn asked.

  Gabe looked up, his eyes full of shock. “It’s from Logan. There’s been an accident.”

  “Who was hurt, and how badly?” Quinn demanded, sitting down next to Gabe. She had that sick feeling one got just before being confronted with bad news, fearing life was about to be forever altered. “Is it Jude?” she cried, when Gabe didn’t answer immediately.

  Gabe shook his head. “It’s Jo. She was hit by a car.”

  “Is she badly hurt? Was she taken to a hospital?”

  “She’d dead,” Gabe replied. His voice was strangely flat, devoid of all emotion.

  Quinn’s hand flew to her mouth as Gabe’s words penetrated her brain. Dead. Jo was dead. For one brief moment, she felt confused, but then the grief came, and Quinn buried her face in Gabe’s shoulder as he held her close. She didn’t grieve for a sister who’d betrayed her; she grieved for a young woman whose life had been cut short. She’d no longer expected to have a relationship with Jo, even a casual one, but the finality of death was always brutal and shocking. Jo had been selfish and cruel, but she didn’t deserve to die, not like that, alone, in the middle of the street, beneath someone’s tires.

  “Have they arrested the driver?” Quinn asked.

  “Hit and run,” Gabe replied. “Didn’t even stop, apparently. She lay there in the street for some time before someone called emergency services.”

  Quinn nodded, unable to comprehend how someone could be so heartless. To hit a woman and drive away, as if nothing had happened, probably too concerned with their insurance premiums to risk involving the police. They hadn’t even called an ambulance or bothered to check if their victim was still alive.

  Gabe unzipped Quinn’s dress and she slid it off, changing into a soft cotton t-shirt. She climbed into bed and curled into a ball, relaxing slightly only when Gabe came to bed and pulled her into his arms. They lay like that for a long while, not speaking, not doing anything but breathing and coming to terms with this new reality. Tomorrow was a new day, in which Quinn would no longer have a sister, and Seth and Sylvia would no longer have a daughter. How unpredictable life was, how random. You had to live now, today, every moment, making your own happiness and forging your own path. She’d questioned Rhys’s rush to the altar, but what was there to wait for? Tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed. Nothing was.

  Quinn lifted her face to Gabe, and he captured her mouth with his, his hand sliding under her t-shirt. Their coupling was urgent and rough, but precisely what Quinn needed at that moment.

  After, Gabe stroked her back gently. “Go so sleep, love,” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”

  And she did. That night she dreamed of Jo, not as she had known her in the last few weeks, but as she had been when they’d first met: vulnerable, frightened, and so receptive. In her dream, they were hugging and crying, talking over each other as their emotions swept away all the barriers and they basked in the joy of finding each other and the wonder of knowing that they had the rest of their lives to nurture their relationship. It had been a beautiful beginning, full of promise and brimming with love.

  When Quinn woke, gentle beams of sunlight warmed her face. Gabe was awake, watching her, his eyes full of concern.

  “All right?” he asked as he reached for her hand.

  “I will be.”

  “Yes, you will,” Gabe replied, giving her hand a sympathetic squeeze. “The children are awake. I heard them go downstairs.”

  “Then let’s join them,” Quinn said, and got out of bed.

  “Yes, let’s,” Gabe said. “Shall we tell Emma about Jo?”

  “No,” Quinn said. “Not yet. She was so happy yesterday. Let’s not ruin this moment, or our holiday. We’ll tell her after we return from Marbella. It’s not as if she was used to seeing Jo often. She’d only met her a handful of times.”

  “So, we’re we still going to Spain?” Gabe asked carefully.

  “Absolutely,” Quinn replied. She would never take another day for granted, not now, not ever.

  Chapter 56

  Brett picked up his carry-on and headed for the gate, glad his flight was finally boarding. He’d done what he came to do; it was time to go home. Now that he’d made amends to Quinn, he was full of plans, and brimming with hope for the future. It was too late to apply anywhere for the fall semester, but he could take a few classes at the community college in the meantime; they had a more flexible admissions schedule. He’d also work with his father over the summer to repay Seth for his efforts in getting him released from jail. He would never take anything for granted again, not even something as simple as buying a cup of coffee or having a shower in private.

  Having shown his ticket, Brett boarded the plane and took his seat. A woman with a baby sat down next to him, and he smiled at the chubby infant, making a silly face at him. The baby laughed, and the woman smiled at him, probably glad that he wasn’t the type of person to complain about sitting next to a baby on a trans-Atlantic flight. Brett leaned back in his seat and looked out the window as the plane taxied toward the runway in preparation for take-off. He’d thought he’d feel guiltier, but surprisingly experienced no remorse. He’d read about Jo’s death while waiting for his flight to be called. “Award-winning photojournalist killed in a motor accident,” the headline had read. It hadn’t been an accident, but Brett was the only person in the world who knew that. He’d planned it carefully, making sure he didn’t get caught this time.

  His roommate at the hostel, Swen, had rented a car for the duration of his stay. He’d intended to drive down to Cornwall, then swing around and head north, toward Scotland, where he was meeting up with some friends. Swen went out at the crack of dawn every morning and spent the whole day sightseeing, hitting every museum, gallery, memorial, and bar along the way. He was dead to the world by nine, and he left his car keys in plain view. Last night, Brett had borrowed the keys, and the car. He’d smeared dirt on the license plate, making it nearly impossible to read, then called Jo and asked if he might come by to say goodbye. Jo had agreed.

  “Do me a favor. Can you wait for me outside? I have a hard time making out the house numbers in the dark, but I’ll see you standing there.”

  “You’re a total weirdo, you know that?” Jo had said but agreed to come out. She’d sounded weird, almost as if she expected him to say something more.

  Yeah, I know what you tried to do to Quinn, you filthy whore, Brett had thought, but hadn’t said anything out loud. He had no way of knowing if Gabe was guilty of anything, but he didn’t think so. He wouldn’t have sent that video if he was.

  He’d never met Gabe, but he’d spent time with Jo, and it didn’t take a doctorate in psychology to see that she was royally fucked up. His dad liked her, loved her even, but he hadn’t seen the side of Jo she’d shown to Brett, nor had he seen that video. Brett grew hard just thinking about it. His dear sister certainly knew how to play
her instrument. Had some woman done that for his benefit, he wouldn’t have been able to resist. He probably wouldn’t have lasted very long either. God, she was hot. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. It wasn’t as if he’d grown up with her. She was a stranger to him, a beautiful woman who clearly had no inhibitions.

  Maybe now that he was free, he could find himself a girlfriend, an older divorcee perhaps. Cougars were always horny, desperate to be satisfied by guys who lasted longer in the sack than their middle-aged husbands. And they were more open, eager to try things they hadn’t done in their youth. Or maybe they had and wanted to relive the fond memories. He didn’t care. He just wanted a woman who’d put on a show for him like Jo had for Gabe. He’d watched a little porn when he’d returned to the hostel. He’d needed to get his rocks off.

  The engines roared, and the plane hurtled down the runway, the wheels finally leaving the tarmac and bearing Brett toward the safety of home. But as the aircraft tilted to the side as it changed course, offering Brett one last glimpse of London spread out in the distance like the glittering city of Oz, he couldn’t help reliving the crime in his mind, going over the details of last night.

  Jo had been standing by the curb when he arrived, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her hands in the pockets of a denim jacket. She was alone, and the street was deserted. Brett had experienced a moment of hesitation but recalled Quinn’s heartbreak and it spurred him on. Jo was evil. She had beauty, brains, and talent, but she’d chosen to use her gifts to destroy the life of the one person who seemed to really care for her. She had no compassion for anyone, least of all Quinn’s children, whose family might have been destroyed thanks to her. Jo didn’t care about anyone but herself, and her death wouldn’t be much of a loss to anyone, not even to his father, who had yet to learn what a bitch he’d brought into the world.

  Brett had gunned the engine and plowed onto the sidewalk, hitting Jo head-on. He heard her scream, saw her body fly into the air as if she weighed no more than a child, then land with a satisfying thunk. After that, all was silent, and he drove away, not bothering to look back. Even if she wasn’t dead, she’d be too mangled to think about seducing any man for months to come, maybe even years.

  The rest had been easy. He’d performed several evasive maneuvers before finding an open carwash, where the unsuspecting employees had washed all traces of Jo away, leaving the car looking shiny and new. He’d returned to the hostel, dropped the keys on the table, and gone to bed, his conscience untroubled by what he’d done. This time, he’d got the right sister.

  Chapter 57

  Jo never saw it coming. The blow was so forceful, it lifted her up and for a few terrifying moments she was airborne, hurtling through the dark night on wings of excruciating pain. And then she landed on the ground with a sickening thud, her limbs splaying at odd angles, as if she were a broken doll. Her head rolled to the side, and a trickle of blood ran down her chin and onto her shoulder. The pain was so visceral, she thought her heart would stop from sheer shock, but then all sensation began to recede, replaced by a creeping chill that spread from the tips of her fingers and toes inward, toward her major organs. Unable to move, she stared up at the star-strewn sky, its distant vastness making her feel tiny and inconsequential.

  Jo tried to turn her head, to call for help, but when she finally managed to cry out, her voice was no louder than a whisper on the wind, a desperate plea no one would ever hear. The street was deserted, the night pressing down on her like a soft blanket that was about to smother her. Jo began to tremble as tears of white-hot terror slid down her cheeks, the realization that this time, there’d be no dramatic rescue, no second chance. This was it. Her life was at an end, and what a legacy she was leaving behind. A trail of tears. She’d cut a swath through life with her angry sword, had taken what she wanted, leaving nothing but carnage in her wake. Well, now she was the carrion, left mangled and defenseless to be picked over by the crows that wore the disguise of family. Perhaps she deserved it, she thought, confronting the truth head-on for the first time in her life, for what she’d done couldn’t be forgiven, or forgotten by those she’d hurt. She’d tried to destroy something precious and sacred, and this was her punishment, her just reward for her vanity and indifference.

  “Why did you do it, Brett?” she whispered hoarsely, her clouded gaze no longer seeing the sky or the stars, only the murky shadow of death hovering above her. There was no time to ponder Brett’s motives or hope for retribution. As death cradled Jo’s head in its gentle hands, her final thought was of Daisy, her daughter’s beautiful face swimming before her closed eyelids. Never having known Daisy was her only real regret, but for just a moment, Jo imagined she heard Daisy’s voice, telling her to be brave and to let go. And she did, leaning into death’s comforting embrace and leaving behind a woman who’d been irreparably broken long before this night.

  Chapter 58

  September 2015

  London, England

  Quinn got off the lift and walked toward Rhys’s office. She nodded to Rhiannan, who was typing furiously, and went right in. Rhys was expecting her. He sat behind his ultra-modern desk, his lean cheeks glowing with a golden tan and his auburn hair streaked with coppery highlights.

  “Welcome back,” he said, smiling hugely. “How was Marbella? I didn’t realize you’d be away for a full month.”

  “It was so amazing, we decided to extend our holiday,” Quinn replied. “The kids loved it. Emma learned to swim, and Alex started walking,” she added, smiling wistfully. Her baby was growing up. He was still unsteady of his feet and preferred to hold on to furniture as he made his way across the room, but he was definitely on his way.

  Rhys smiled. “It was a well-deserved break. And how are you, otherwise?” he asked carefully.

  “I’m all right. Really.”

  Rhys nodded. He’d come to Jo’s funeral and stood beside Quinn, as she and Gabe took their place beside the open grave. A surprising number of people had turned up, mostly because Jo was well known in certain circles, but no one had seemed particularly overcome with grief. It wasn’t until Gabe pointed it out that Quinn had noticed that other than herself, Sylvia, Karen Crawford, and Michael Crawford’s wife and daughters, who’d never even met Jo, there were no other women present. Jo didn’t seem to have or need female friends, and she clearly didn’t get on with her colleagues either.

  Logan had stood next to Sylvia, his eyes downcast as he listened to the words of the minister. He’d looked almost unrecognizable in a dark suit and somber tie. Quinn had been pleased to see Colin next to him. At one point during the service, Logan had reached for his hand, and Colin had taken it and held it until the casket was lowered into the ground.

  Seth and Sylvia had stood apart, united in their grief. They didn’t really know or like each other, but for better or worse, they were Jo’s parents, and the pain of losing her had been evident in their faces. Kathy had stood off to the side, there for Seth, but not truly a part of his loss. Quinn hadn’t been overly surprised that Brett had chosen not to accompany them. He must have heard the news as soon as he landed in the States and hadn’t been ready to return so soon. He hadn’t really known Jo, so it was understandable that he’d felt no desire to attend her funeral.

  “Do you believe in fate?” Rhys suddenly asked.

  “I don’t know. Why do you ask?”

  “Perhaps it was Jo’s time. She was meant to die in Afghanistan but was saved by passing American troops. Maybe her death was the universe autocorrecting itself,” he mused.

  “Do you really think so?” Quinn asked, surprised that Rhys would take such an unorthodox view.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea. Just theorizing. I hate to think that life is so random. I suppose believing that there’s some sort of pattern makes it easier to accept a senseless death.”

  “I honestly don’t know, Rhys. Having seen what I’ve seen, I tend to think a person’s life is a series of choices made in response to certain situations. Death and trage
dy are unavoidable, but some people tend to court disaster, while others do everything in their power to stay the course.”

  “Do you think Jo was the former?”

  “I do think Jo liked to stir things up, rattle people’s cages.”

  “But her death was an accident,” Rhys pointed out.

  “Yes,” Quinn replied. “It was.”

  “Did they ever find the person responsible?”

  “No. They were able to determine the make and model of the car from CCTV footage, but the license plates were covered in grime, and the driver’s face was obscured by a baseball cap. The police had nothing to go on.”

  “Shame, that.”

  Quinn nodded. “Look, Rhys, there’s something I need to tell you, and I hope you’ll understand. I won’t be doing another season of Echoes. In fact, I don’t want to use my gift ever again. I’m done with wading through other people’s misery. It’s having too much of an impact on my life and my family.”

  “You’re under contract for one more episode,” Rhys reminded her.

  “And I will honor my commitment, but I’m under no obligation to use my psychic ability. I will give you the archeological facts and you can build a story around them, as you would do if I were anyone else.”

  Rhys nodded. “What will you do after we’re done filming?”

  “I think, in time, I’ll pick up a few classes at the institute. I miss teaching, and I need to stay close to home for the next few years.” Quinn smiled shyly, her face suffusing with heat.

  “When are you due?” Rhys asked, correctly interpreting her blush.

  “End of March.” She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she’d conceived the day Gabe had her against the wall after sending her the video of Jo. It had been an awful day, one she didn’t care to dwell on, but something beautiful had come out of it, and they were thrilled. It was only later, once they were already in Marbella, that she’d realized she’d forgotten to take her birth control pills several days in a row, having been emotionally overwrought by Helen’s story, and realized she no longer had need of them. She’d thrown them in the bin before she’d realized she was pregnant but was still glad she’d made the decision independently of the news.