Quinn hadn’t bought anything new in months and felt like a kid in a candy shop when she perused some of Jill’s merchandise while Jill was busy helping customers. Quinn chose two pairs of jeans, a peasant blouse in a gorgeous shade of green, and a wraparound dress in a pattern of mauve and gray. It was very smart and could be worn to either a business meeting or a social occasion with high-heeled shoes or a pair of boots. A pale-pink mother-of-pearl vintage necklace completed the outfit. Quinn added it to the pile without even glancing at the price tag. She loved it, and since Jill’s new business was still struggling, she wanted to give her cousin a helping hand.
Quinn inserted the key into the lock and froze in shock when the heavy oak door gave way and opened on its own, swinging back soundlessly on well-oiled hinges. Had she installed a security light above the door, as her mother always said she should, she would have noticed that the lock had been broken and there were scratches on the door jamb. The wise thing to do would have been to return to the car, drive away, and call the police, but Quinn wasn’t thinking rationally, her veins pulsing with a heady mix of adrenaline and fury. Someone had dared violate her home, and she’d be damned if she ran away like a frightened child.
The front room was flooded by pale moonlight streaming through the stained-glass windows set high in the walls. The light was feeble but just enough to illuminate the destruction within. The place was a mess: books on the floor, files strewn across her desk, and every drawer pulled out and emptied. One wall had a circle of crumbling plaster, as if someone thought there might be something behind it and took a hammer to it. Quinn was turning toward the light switch when she was struck on the side of her head. Pain exploded in her skull as she crumpled to the floor, her mouth open in disbelief. She’d foolishly assumed that the intruder had gone, but she realized her mistake when she saw a dark shadow out of the corner of her eye, and then another.
Whoever hit her ran out the door and shut it behind them with a bang, leaving her in near-darkness. Quinn felt a wave of nausea brought on by the pounding in her head. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing deeply through her nose to get a handle on her rising sense of panic. What had she been thinking just barging in like that? She could have been killed or seriously hurt. Had the intruders been armed, they might have fired at her when taken by surprise. And what if they came back? Quinn had a splitting headache, but at least she hadn’t been knocked unconscious, which was a blessing. She tried to sit up but was assaulted by such strong vertigo that she had to lie back down and close her eyes again until the world stopped spinning like a top. Once she thought herself able to try again, Quinn felt for her bag and fumbled inside, searching for her mobile. She called the police, then let the phone drop to the floor as a comforting blackness enveloped her.
Quinn’s limbs felt heavy when she came round, and the pain in her head seemed to radiate in all directions. She lifted her hand and carefully touched her temple. Her fingers came away sticky with blood. Bugger, she thought angrily. She hoped she wouldn’t need to go to the hospital, but perhaps she ought, just to be on the safe side. The pain became worse, making her head feel as if her skull was about to burst. Her head was throbbing, and her vision, which had become accustomed to the darkness, seemed to blur, the muted shades of the stained-glass windows turning into fuzzy smudges of color. The door opened and a dark presence filled the archway. Quinn squeaked in fear before realizing that she was looking at a police officer. The man knelt before her, his voice kind and soothing.
“Ms. Allenby, I am Detective Inspector Keane, and that’s Detective Constable Hardy behind me. Now, you just remain where you are. The ambulance is on its way. Are you up to answering a few questions?” Quinn wanted to help the police but suddenly felt terribly sleepy. Her eyelids seemed to be weighted with lead, and the words no longer made sense, but the policeman kept talking to her.
“Stay with me. Don’t go to sleep.”
Quinn barely registered the other policeman who was already looking about the ransacked room. He didn’t turn on the light but used his torch to assess the damage. He picked up an ebony statue Quinn had gotten as a Valentine’s Day gift from Luke a few years back. It was a modern piece meant to represent mother and child. The figures flowed together and intertwined in a way that suggested that neither one could survive without the other. The statue was about two feet tall and made of solid wood.
“There’s blood on this, sir,” the constable said. “I think it was used to assault Ms. Allenby.”
“Bag it and get it to Forensics. Maybe we can get some prints off it.”
“Is there anyone I can call?” DI Keane asked as he bent over Quinn, his cool fingers on her wrist, checking her pulse. Somewhere in the distance Quinn could hear the wail of an ambulance, but it was muted, as if coming from underwater.
“Gabe,” Quinn murmured. “In my phone.” She hadn’t spoken to Gabe since their ill-fated dinner, but at this moment, there was no one she’d rather have by her side. She had a few friends in the village, but she didn’t want them fussing over her or blathering nonstop. Gabe was always good in a crisis—calm and in control.
“Right.” DI Keane found Quinn’s mobile and located Gabe’s number. She heard him talking but barely registered the words. Her head felt as if someone had just taken an axe to it. A moment later, paramedics were hovering above her, taking her blood pressure and shining a light into her eyes. Quinn felt disoriented and confused. She hardly noticed when the two young men lifted her onto a gurney and wheeled her outside toward the waiting ambulance.
“You’ll be all right, love,” one of the paramedics said as he settled in next to her in the back of the ambulance. “It doesn’t look too bad, but you’ll still need a CAT scan to make sure there’s no internal bleeding, and you can hardly stay in the house alone after what happened.” He was an earnest young man with a thatch of ginger hair and clear blue eyes. He took her hand and held it as a gesture of comfort, which Quinn found oddly endearing. She hadn’t realized it, but there were tears sliding down her cheeks, and the young man gently wiped them away with a crumpled tissue.
“My house,” Quinn whispered, her voice watery with tears.
“Don’t you worry. The police will secure your house. Everything will be all right. And your friend is on his way.”
Quinn had tried valiantly to stay alert, but the swaying of the ambulance lulled her to sleep, and she finally gave up the fight. She closed her eyes and felt herself drifting away. It felt so liberating to just be and not worry about anything. There was still a nagging pain in her head, but it seemed to recede as she fell deeper asleep despite the paramedic’s pleas to stay awake.
Quinn was startled by the bright lights of Casualty when she was wheeled in. She didn’t want to go there; she only wanted to be left alone to sleep. She felt better, but now her head was pounding again, and her eyes teared up from the harsh fluorescent light. She shut them tight and remained that way until she was wheeled into a curtained-off alcove, where a nurse was ready to take charge.
Quinn endured what seemed like hours of poking, prodding, questions, and tests before being pronounced severely concussed. She’d grown agitated, and a mild sedative was administered, finally allowing her to sink into a deep sleep.
Chapter 26
It was hard to tell what time it was since the only light came from a bedside lamp. There were voices and sounds of activity, but they seemed muted, far away. Quinn’s head ached and her limbs felt leaden, as if every ounce of energy had been sucked out of her. A bandage covered the wound inflicted by the statue, and an IV line snaked off the bed and toward the bag hanging off a metal stand. Quinn felt groggy and disoriented.
“Quinn? Are you awake?” A soft voice came from somewhere to her left. She turned her head a fraction and smiled despite the throbbing in her head. Gabe sat in a stiff plastic hospital chair, his disheveled appearance a testament to the fact that he took off as soon as he got the call. His shirt looked rumpled, and his jaw was shadowed by a da
y’s growth of stubble. He looked tired and must have dozed off for a bit, but now he was leaning forward, watching her with a searching expression.
“How do you feel?”
“Like I’ve been hit over the head with an ebony statue,” Quinn replied in a feeble attempt at humor. “I want to go home, Gabe.”
“You can’t go just yet, but I can get you a cup of tea if you like.”
“Yes, please.”
Gabe left and returned a few minutes later with a Styrofoam cup of sweet, milky tea. It wasn’t strong enough, and the Styrofoam gave it a strange aftertaste, but Quinn drank it gratefully. Her mouth was dry, and her tongue felt unusually fuzzy. A sudden unwelcome thought occurred to her as she handed the empty cup to Gabe.
“They haven’t called my parents, have they?” she asked urgently. “I don’t want them to worry.”
“No, they haven’t,” Gabe replied, his tone soothing. “And they’ve secured your house.”
“What?” Quinn asked as she gave Gabe the gimlet eye. “You are keeping something from me.” He had that guilty look that she knew so well.
“It’s nothing, really.”
“If it was nothing you wouldn’t try to avoid making eye contact with me, like you’re doing this very minute.”
Gabe held up his hands and smiled, caught out. “All right, but you won’t be happy about this. There was a shooting in the village. Completely unrelated to your break-in, by all accounts, but there was a reporter here when you were brought in. He managed to snap a few photos and get the scoop. There might be something in the papers or online.”
Quinn shrugged. This wasn’t nearly as bad as what she expected. “Who in the world would care that my house was broken into? That’s hardly newsworthy. I’m sure there are more important things to report. Who was shot?” she asked, concerned. She often went into the village and knew almost everyone, if only to say hello to.
“Some young punk. There was a dispute about a stolen car. He’s in critical condition but is expected to make a full recovery. I don’t think he’s actually from the village. The lads were on their way from London to wherever they were going. The rest were arrested by DI Keane. He came to you straight after they were taken into custody. Busy night for the local constabulary.”
Quinn nodded. Nothing ever happened in their little village. That’s what she loved about it. This was practically a crime wave. Quinn sat up as DI Keane poked his head around the door.
“May I come in?” he asked and entered without waiting for an answer. He sank heavily into the other vacant chair. DI Keane looked exhausted, and no wonder: it had been a long night for him. Quinn felt comforted by his presence. He wasn’t a particularly good-looking man. He was of average height but built like a prizefighter, his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms straining the fabric of his shirt. His hairline was receding, and he didn’t look like the type of man who smiled easily, but there was something solid and warm about him, and Quinn knew that if push came to shove, she’d want DI Keane in her corner.
“How are you feeling, Dr. Allenby? I thought you looked familiar,” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “Didn’t make the connection until someone mentioned that you’d been on the telly. I quite enjoyed your documentary about that Roman soldier. Fascinating stuff. My son is obsessed with anything from that period, so we watched it together. He was very impressed with you, my Robbie.”
“Thank you,” Quinn said, smiling. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
DI Keane nodded, his mind having already moved on to something else. “I’m told you will be discharged come morning. I just wanted to update you on the situation. We caught your intruders. Their mate was waiting for them down the lane in the getaway car, and they were speeding out of the village when they were stopped. All three are minors. We’ve recovered some jewelry and a few hundred quid. Your property will be returned to you after the hearing, but for the time being, it’s state’s evidence. One lad, Jimmy Barnes, sang like a canary when interviewed. He was more scared of facing his mother than of going to a juvenile detention facility.”
“Was there any reason they targeted me?” Quinn asked. Her house was somewhat isolated, but she’d never had reason to be scared before.
“As it happens—yes,” the policeman replied. “The lad’s mother kept going on and on about that find down in Mayfair. Thought it was romantic. She mentioned that some items of jewelry were found with the skeletons. Seen it on the telly, I suppose. Seems our Jimmy is quite fond of history, particularly the Saxons, and got the idea in his head that the two skeletons were buried with grave goods which were now in your possession. He thought that if he and his mates got their hands on these items, they could sell them to a fence for a pretty penny. Jimmy didn’t find what he came for, so he grabbed some of your jewelry instead, so as not to leave empty-handed.” DI Keane shook his head in disgust. “He’s the same age as my own boy. They were friends a few years back but grew apart. I know the family.”
“You’re only doing your job, Detective,” Gabe said.
DI Keane nodded and rose to his feet. “Feel free to call me if you find that anything else is missing. I suspect you’ll have to appear at the hearing, Dr. Allenby. Feel better,” he added as he left.
“Grave goods—fancy that,” Gabe remarked. “I’m almost surprised that a kid like that knows what grave goods are.”
“Ah, the dangers of education,” Quinn quipped.
“Do you still have the brooch and the buckle?” Gabe asked, suddenly worried.
“Yes. They’re in my bag. I couldn’t bear to be parted from them.”
“You’re getting too involved,” Gabe observed.
Quinn smiled guiltily. “I can’t help it. I’ve grown quite fond of Elise.”
“I wish I could see what you see,” Gabe said wistfully. “Will you tell me what happened to her?”
“Once I know the whole story.”
Quinn was relieved when a few hours later, a young doctor came to tell her that she could go home. She checked Quinn’s vital signs and took her blood pressure before signing the release.
“You’re coming back to mine, and I will brook no argument,” Gabe announced. “I will cook you a full English breakfast and make you watch TV until you’re comatose with boredom.”
“I’m comatose already, and you don’t know how to cook.”
“I can manage breakfast. Come.” Gabe put his arm protectively about Quinn’s shoulders, and she leaned against him. She was grateful that he hadn’t mentioned their last meeting. What she needed right now was a friend, and Gabe was intuitive enough to understand that and let the other matter drop for the time being. Quinn was sure that the reprieve was temporary; Gabe wasn’t the type of man to give up easily when he’d made up his mind to something.
“Gabe, I want to go home,” Quinn said as they got into his car. “I thank you for coming, but I think I’d just like to be alone for a little while. The intruders have been caught, so I’m in no danger.”
“All right,” Gabe replied, his tone cool. He didn’t appreciate being dismissed now that his services were no longer required. “I’ll take you home. Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be fine. Really.”
Gabe nodded as he pulled out of the car park. He remained silent on the ride back to Quinn’s house and left as soon as he made sure that the house was in order and Quinn was able to lock the door behind him. Quinn leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek, but Gabe took her by the shoulders and kissed her on the forehead in a fatherly fashion.
“Ring me if you need anything,” he said before walking away. Quinn watched him through the open door, deeply aware of the rigid set of his shoulders and purposeful gait. He was hurt, and she was to blame. Quinn briefly considered calling out to him and asking him to come back, but she really did want to be alone. Or at least with someone who wasn’t technically there. She wanted to be with Elise.
Chapter 27
March 1665
Elise took a shuddering breath as the boat glided toward the dock and came to a stop with a final splash of the oars. Her stomach heaved and she grabbed onto the sides of the boat and sucked in a breath of air in an effort to keep the bile from rising. This wasn’t the sickness that had plagued her nearly every morning for the past two weeks—this was despair. The ferryman gave her an expectant look, and she handed over a coin and carefully stepped ashore.
“Mind how ye go,” the man called after her, having noticed her pallor and unsteady gait. Elise gave him a wan smile, but he was already negotiating a new fare and forgot all about her.
It’d taken her nearly a fortnight to work up the courage to make this trip. Some part of her still hoped that things would miraculously work out, but she knew that was not possible. No matter how desperately she longed to get away and start a new life with Gavin, her conscience wouldn’t allow it. Gavin deserved better than this, and so did her child. How could she deny it its legacy and condemn it to a life of financial struggle and obscurity? Gavin and the child were innocent of any wrongdoing—it was she who was tainted by deceit, and it was she who had to put an end to the dream.
Elise walked away from the river, determined not to lose her resolve. It was a beautiful March morning. Spring was in the air, and the tang of the river mingled with the smell of loamy earth, reminding her of the garden at her parents’ house, where she used to sit on a bench on fine days and watch the Thames flow past. The sky was a pristine blue, and the sun, although still pale, now gave off some welcome warmth. The streets of Southwark bustled with activity, and no one paid any mind to a young woman walking alone. Elise decided that after her meeting with Gavin, she would go to her father’s house. She longed to see Amy and Anne, and although her father would chastise her for coming alone, without so much as a maidservant to accompany her, she was willing to brave his anger if it earned her half an hour with the girls. But it would be even better if her father happened to be away from home. The thought of seeing him left Elise seething with a bitter anger that she wasn’t accustomed to feeling toward her only living parent. She sighed with mounting misery. Today was going to be difficult, no matter what she encountered.
The Lovers (Echoes From The Past) Page 17