Megan opened the screen door outside the kitchen.
“She’s gone. There’s no sign of life in here.”
I was a little surprised to see the gun in her hand. I knew that Megan was in the Marines, too, but I hadn’t seen the telltale evidence of a gun on her when she was at Quinn’s. She held it at her side-a 9mm—pressed against her thigh.
I went inside and was immediately hit by the acrid stench of fire. The kitchen sink—this massive white sink—was darkened by soot.
“We think she was trying to get rid of evidence.” Megan snapped a finger against the old coffee pot. “Still hot.”
“She saw us next door and ran,” Hayden guessed.
“Apparently. We found a few fragments of a letter in the sink. The prosecutor’s investigators already bagged them. But you should see what we found upstairs.”
She led the way to the front of the house. This house wasn’t as large as Quinn’s, but the layout was similar. We walked upstairs and were immediately aware that most of the activity was happening in the back bedroom directly across from the stairs.
I slid my gun into my holster as I followed Megan and Hayden inside. Hayden whistled, swiveling his head as he tried to take it all in.
“Fucking looney bin,” he said.
The room was completely covered in images of Quinn. Some were clearly candid photos, taken in Quinn’s house. But most of them were from a distance, pictures that must have been taken with a telephoto lens through the window. A few had Olivia in them. And then there were quite a few that must have been taken from the television screen, nude pictures of Quinn’s body, her face covered by a mask or hidden by a well-placed pillow or blanket.
The pictures that were drawing the most attention from the men in the room, and the ones that I desperately wanted to tear down, were hardcore pictures of a much younger Quinn with various men. Her face was clearly visible in these.
Everywhere. They were everywhere.
“Look at this,” Megan said, pointing the tip of a pencil at one photograph.
“Gladly,” Hayden said, coming up behind her.
I’d never wanted to punch someone so badly in all my life.
“There’s a mark on her leg here. Do you see it?”
Megan pointed her pen to another picture and then another. I recognized the mark she was pointing to. It was obscured a little in the photographs, maybe from the way the pictures were taken or by body makeup that was supposed to cover it. But I knew it. It was a tattoo Quinn had high on her inner thigh.
“Do you suppose that’s how she put two and two together?”
Hayden tore one of the pictures from the wall, a picture from Quinn’s early days in the industry, and studied it a minute.
“It’s a tattoo.”
“How did Quinn and Ms. Harrington meet?”
“I don’t know,” I said, working hard to keep my voice respectful. “She said something about meeting her the day she and Olivia moved into their house.”
“The letters began coming shortly after that, right?”
“Yeah.”
“I bet she saw the tattoo on Quinn’s leg and put it together. Maybe she was already watching her movies. Maybe she’d even already put together that this actress”—she touched one of the shots showing Quinn’s face—“and Milly LeBouche were the same person.”
“Milly La Bush?”
I really didn’t like the tone of Hayden’s voice.
“Have a little respect,” Megan said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “She’s our client.”
“I was just admiring her sense of the ironic.”
Megan shook her head, her attention moving back to the pictures. “It’s pretty obvious she was obsessed with her.”
“We have a stack of DVDs over here,” one of the investigators called.
Megan walked over there and began looking through the titles. She glanced at me, a touch of sympathy in her eyes.
“It looks like she owned every movie Quinn made. There are a few here that don’t appear to have her in them, but not many.”
I was done. I was ready to get out of there. But something compelled me to go to the window on the west side of the house. I looked down and…fuck me! I could see right into the living room and kitchen of Quinn’s house. And the window over Olivia’s bed. I could see her now, playing on the floor with Cole. But that wasn’t the worst of it. There was a window in Quinn’s bathroom. I could see her bathtub, her toilet, even the shower wall. From this spot, Beth could watch Quinn through almost her entire daily routine.
“You should go back,” Megan said softly as she came to stand beside me. “We’ll be over in a while to figure out what our next step should be.”
I nodded.
“You did good, Vincent,” she said as I turned to go. “You caught this when the rest of us were looking in a completely different direction.”
“Yeah, well, I should have figured it out earlier. Might have saved her some unnecessary anguish.”
“You did the job you were hired to do. That’s all that matters.”
But it didn’t feel that way.
I let Sydney down. I didn’t stop her from getting behind the wheel of my truck. I didn’t correct that turn quickly enough. She died on my watch and that was my burden to bear. But Quinn…I felt like I missed what was right under my nose. All this time and I did nothing to stop that woman from spying on her and Olivia. On her and me.
I walked out of the house and crossed to Quinn’s, aware that some of their neighbors had become aware of what was happening and were standing on their front porches. They watched as I crossed the lawns and headed up to Quinn’s front door. It made me feel like I had when the local press came out to cover my arrest and trial in Sydney’s death.
“Hey!”
I turned, ready to brush off whoever was calling to me, but it was a little old woman who was wobbling on the cane she held in front of her.
“Can I help you?”
“You’re Quinn’s boyfriend, right?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and studied her for a long minute. “What can I do for you, Mrs….?”
“Miss Holland. I live over on the other side here.”
“Nice to meet you.”
She raised her chin a little, looking at me along the bridge of her nose. “What’s going on? Why are they searching Beth’s house?”
“That’s a private matter, Miss Holland.”
“The prosecutor’s office doesn’t send investigators on private matters. What’s going on?”
I stepped back just slightly, my opinion of this woman quickly changing.
“Do you know where Beth Harrington might be?”
“She left about an hour ago. In a real hurry, too.”
“Does she have any family in this area? Somewhere she’d go?”
“No. Her parents died several years ago. I thought she might move on once they were gone, but she stayed on. I don’t think she had anywhere else to go.”
“She lived with her parents here?”
“Yes. For years and years. They were elderly and needed her help taking care of them. Poor girl. She could have had a good life, but she gave it all up for them.”
“But she has no other family?”
“No.” The old woman took a step toward me. “Now I answered your questions, you answer mine. What’s going on over there?”
“We just need to find Ms. Harrington. That’s all.”
“That’s not all. Did she do something to Quinn or that precious little girl?”
“No. Not yet.”
“I saw the police over here last week. I was afraid Beth had finally gone and done something.”
I frowned. “You think Beth is out to hurt Quinn?”
“The child. I saw her purposely push her one afternoon while they were walking up the driveway. And another time I saw her purposely trip Olivia when Quinn and the child were walking her back to her house one evening. She pretended it was an accident, but I saw
it.”
I glanced back at the house. “Did Quinn ever notice any of this?”
“I don’t think so. She was always distracted by something or other when Beth struck out. I’m not sure even the child realized it was intentional. But I could see it.”
“Thank you, Miss Holland.”
“You take care of those young ladies,” she said. “They’re good people.”
“I will.”
I stepped into the house and raced up the stairs, wondering what else Beth might have done to Olivia. What was her ultimate plan? Was she trying to get rid of Olivia so that she could have Quinn all to herself? If that was it, then having me come into the house must have been a huge wrench to her plans. What would she have done if this went on much longer?
“Quinn?”
She wasn’t in the master bedroom, and I knew from the view over at Beth’s that she wasn’t in Olivia’s room. I checked the exercise room, but I knew where she was. And, sure enough, she was there, sitting on the edge of the couch where we’d made love not twelve hours ago.
I settled down beside her and slipped my hand slowly up the length of her spine.
“It’s definitely Beth.”
She nodded, not really acknowledging me. It was like she was still trying to convince herself that all this was real.
“She’s obsessed with you, Quinn.”
She nodded again.
“I should have seen it. I should have known what was going on right under my nose.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“There were things…little things.” She leaned forward and buried her face in her hands for a second before turning to look at me. “I would come home and find things moved in my bedroom. I thought that maybe I just didn’t remember where I’d left them, but something inside of me knew that Beth had moved them. And little things Olivia said. How Beth would ask questions about me, how she would yell at Olivia for touching simple things, like the mug I drank out of that morning. I brushed it off because I needed Beth’s help. Setting up the studio…” She buried her face again. “I was stupid. I put my child in danger.”
“You didn’t know.”
“But I should have.”
I put my arm around her and pulled her tight against my side. “And I should have known. I should have noticed that her bedroom windows look right down into your house. I should have known that she was watching us. I should have known that whoever broke into the house knew exactly where to go to hurt you the most. I should have seen the clues.”
She touched my face, drawing me down to her.
“I don’t want to do this,” she whispered. “I just want to pretend none of this is happening.”
I kissed her. Her lips were warm, even though she shivered as she moved closer to me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her in a cocoon against my chest, wishing I could just keep her there. The idea that someone might hurt her tore me up more than I wanted to admit.
“It’s going to be okay,” I said softly against her mouth. “I won’t let anything happen to you or Olivia.”
“I know.” She touched the side of my face gently. “But who’s going to protect you?”
I groaned. All this stuff going on and she was worried about me. That was absolutely incredible.
I held her as tight as I could, not sure what else I could do for her at this point. There were no words for what was happening, no promises that could fix what Beth had torn apart. All I could do was hold her and pretend that I could wrap us up in a tiny bubble that was all ours, that would never let anything bad inside of it.
It was all I had for the moment.
Chapter 17
Quinn
I curled up against the pillows on my bed, lying there for the first time since Beth broke in and sliced a cat’s throat here. It made me shiver, the idea of that cat dying here on my bed. I wouldn’t have been there if it weren’t for the fact that Megan insisted it was the best way to catch Beth.
This was the third night. The third time I crawled into this bed that made my skin crawl, the third time I pulled the replacement comforter up against my chin, waiting for something that had yet to happen.
There was a man I had yet to meet staring into my bathroom from Beth’s bedroom window. Another was in the backyard, hidden by shadows, waiting for Beth to attempt to disarm the security system. And yet another parked in front of my house. They were all waiting, just as I was waiting. The only thing that made this bearable was the knowledge that Vincent was sitting a few feet away, hidden behind a Chinese screen, a gun in his lap.
It was Megan’s idea. Beth left because she suspected they were onto her. But she was so obsessed with me that Megan was convinced she would come back eventually. They were hoping sooner rather than later. And when she did, they’d be waiting.
I wasn’t as confident. I was pretty sure Beth had disappeared and would never be heard from again. They’d checked her bank accounts. Every one of them had been completely drained. Her car was found abandoned at the airport. And she called to quit her job at the nursing home where she worked the night shift as a nurse’s aide.
Beth wasn’t coming back. Yet, I was lying in this repulsive bed and my daughter was across town, spending the third night with Cole and Amber. Not that I minded them taking her. She was always so full of stories when I saw her. But I’d rather she was here with me, safe in her own room.
Not that her room was all that safe, it turned out. I couldn’t walk in there now without wondering how many times Beth stood at her own window and watched my daughter play. Or undress.
“Would you teach me how to shoot a gun?”
Vincent didn’t answer right away.
“I hate feeling like I have to depend on other people to protect me.”
“A gun isn’t always the answer.”
“Then what? Should I take a martial arts class or something?”
“I could teach you a few karate moves.”
I smiled, thinking of him touching me to maneuver my body into all the right positions. “I could go for that.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m sure you could.”
“Maybe if I’d known how to protect myself years ago, I wouldn’t be in this position.”
He was quiet again, sobered by the thought. But then he asked, “Does she know?”
“Who know what?”
“Does Olivia know who her biological father is?”
“That’s not something I’m too eager to explain to a ten-year-old child.”
“Will you ever tell her?”
I dragged my fingers through my hair, getting them caught a few times in the tangled curls. “I don’t know. She has a right to know. But she also has a right to be as innocent and protected as I can manage.”
“You’ve done a good job with her, Quinn. She’s the happiest, most secure young girl I’ve ever known.”
“You know a lot of ten year olds?”
“Not really. But I see them at the mall and in restaurants. I’m not an expert, but she’s definitely in a good place.”
“Yeah. I hope so.”
“And she’s resilient. She’ll get through this, no matter how things end.”
“Would you tell her?”
I wished I could see his face. He hesitated again, and I wanted to see his face so I could tell what he was thinking. I wanted to know if he was taking this seriously or not.
“No,” he finally said. “I’d keep it from her as long as possible. And then I’d be careful about the way I told her.”
“I thought you’d say yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. You just strike me as the kind of guy who doesn’t like lies and secrets.”
“I don’t.”
“But this—?”
“Some secrets should be kept, Quinn. For the benefit of the people involved.”
“Like Sydney’s parents? Have you ever considered talking to them? Telling them that she was drunk and hell bent on killing you both tha
t night?”
He didn’t answer, but I hadn’t expected him to.
I rolled over, tugging the comforter tighter around my shoulders. It was still warm even though it was getting to be late fall. But I felt chilled anyway. And my stomach…I found myself struggling to keep my dinner where it belonged. I’d never had nerves quite like this before, but I’d never put on a show quite like this, either.
“When this is over—”
“If it’s ever over,” I mumbled.
“If this ends any time soon, I’d like to—”
A soft beep filled the room. I was so strung out that I sat up before I realized it was Vincent’s phone.
“What is it?”
“Lay down, Quinn. She’s here.”
I lay back, my heart pounding. The plan was that they would let Beth make her way up to the bedroom, thinking she’s sneaking up on me while I’m asleep. Then Vincent and the two guys outside would take her down. I thought it sounded like a good plan when we were in my kitchen, drinking flavored coffee. But now? I was on the edge of falling apart.
We had no idea what this woman was coming up here with. We had no idea what her intentions were. For all we knew, she wasn’t coming upstairs. She was going to set some sort of bomb up downstairs. Megan insisted that Beth wanted me alive and well, but we didn’t know that, did we? What if she’d changed her mind?
The house was so quiet that I imagined I could hear the light breeze outside brush against the shingles on the roof. Or maybe it was just the air rushing in and out of my lungs.
And then…there was the slightest creak on the stairs.
I heard Vincent adjust his position behind the screen; I heard the distinctive sound of him pulling the slide on his gun. It was a quiet motion, but it seemed to be a hundred times amplified in the silence.
Another creak.
Was she crawling up the damn stairs?
I wanted to cry I was so tense. There was pain in my shoulders. I needed this to be over with. Now.
Another creak, and then I heard the distinctive creak of door hinges. Where was she? That didn’t sound close enough to be my bedroom door. The creak again. And then the sound of something tipping over.
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