“Something to remember me by,” Thomas said as he released her. “I hope I didn’t offend you.”
“Not at all. Safe journey, Thomas.”
Petra fled the parlor, eager to get away and think. Thomas’s kiss hadn’t been unpleasant, and had she not seen Avery again after all these years, she would have welcomed it. Only an utter fool would refuse a proposal from a man like Lord Devon, especially when Avery was in no position to offer her a future.
But the heart wants what it wants, Petra thought as tears welled in her eyes. Oh, why did Avery have to come back?
Chapter 36
February 2014
London, England
A cold, miserable rain fell in sheets as Quinn dashed across the street and into Freestate Coffee, a cozy café chosen by Dr. Scott. The aroma of freshly-ground coffee beans overlaid by the smell of pastry made Quinn pause and inhale deeply. It was heavenly, especially on such a filthy morning. She ordered a cappuccino and an almond croissant and weaved her way between the tables toward the back where Colin Scott was sitting in the corner. He gave her a friendly wave and moved his coat from the chair that he’d been saving for her.
Seeing Dr. Scott outside the mortuary was a revelation. Gone were the green scrubs and surgical cap, replaced by black jeans, combat boots, and a designer hoodie. Colin’s hair, which was normally bound at work, hung to his shoulders, its sandy waves framing his face. Several women were giving Colin no-so-discreet looks of appreciation, their eyes drawn by his chiseled features and beautiful eyes. It always struck Quinn as odd that a man who looked as trendy and artistic as Dr. Scott would choose to dissect cadavers for a living.
“Mornin’,” Colin drawled as he waited for Quinn to get settled and stow her dripping umbrella beneath her seat. “Awful out there.”
“Better than snow, I suppose,” Quinn replied and took a sip of her coffee. “This place is a bit out of the way for you, isn’t it?”
“Not really. I live just around the corner. And I love their coffee. Best in London, in my opinion.”
“It really is good,” Quinn agreed, although at the moment, she would probably have enjoyed vending machine coffee in a Styrofoam cup as long as it was hot.
“So, which do you want first, information on your mysterious fourteenth-century remains or the results of the paternity test?”
“The remains please,” Quinn replied. She didn’t think she’d be able to concentrate on what Colin had to say after hearing the results of the DNA test. The answer seemed to surprise Dr. Scott, but he didn’t question it. He pushed his empty coffee cup out of the way and leaned forward, resting his folded hands on the table. The look on his face underwent an instant transformation, going from casual friendliness to one of barely-restrained enthusiasm. This was a man who was passionate about his job, someone who saw a body on a slab as more than just a corpse, but a puzzle to be solved, a story to be told. Quinn understood only too well. Her decision to become an archeologist was rooted in exactly the same desire. Every bone and artifact had a story to tell. They gave a voice to someone who was long gone, whose life might not have been extraordinary or rewarding, but worth remembering all the same.
“I’m sorry to report that the hair we found lacked a follicle, so we weren’t able to obtain any nuclear DNA. The only test we can perform on a hair shaft is the mtDNA test, which shows genetic information passed down the maternal line, and we didn’t run the full mitochondrial genome because it’s very costly and requires authorization,” Colin said, smiling apologetically.
“The only thing I can state with any certainty about your lady is that she was of Anglo-Saxon descent and was fair-haired and light-eyed. She was predisposed to seizures, cortical blindness, and sideroblastic anemia, which doesn’t mean that she suffered from any of those conditions. These predispositions would have been passed on down to her children, and her female children would, in turn, have passed them on to their own offspring.”
Quinn nodded. What Colin was saying fit right in with what she knew of Petra and her children already. Petra didn’t suffer from seizures, nor did her daughters, but she had passed on the predisposition to her son, Edwin. Quinn thought that Colin had finished, but he smiled at her triumphantly, having saved the best for last.
“The only real thing of interest that I can share with you is that based on the DNA sequencing we’ve done on the teeth of the child, we’ve been able to ascertain, with about ninety-percent accuracy, that the remains are those of mother and child. So, they weren’t two random people buried next to each other; they were related,” Colin concluded. “And whatever unforgivable sin the mother had been accused of, the son was likely party to the act since he’d been condemned to a prone burial in unconsecrated ground.”
Colin leaned back, the excitement fading from his face as he remembered the limitations imposed on him despite his desire to know more. “Unfortunately, given the historical obscurity of these people, we don’t have the funding to perform a full panel of genome and DNA sequencing. Someone would have to foot the bill, and your Mr. Morgan doesn’t have the authority to pay for this from the coffers of the BBC.”
“Thank you, Colin. I understand. Every little bit helps. I’m sure Rhys will find a way to spin this into a story his audience will love. The episodes of Echoes from the Past are rooted in reality, but are, for all intents and purposes, a work of fiction. We take a few basic facts and create a reenactment of what might have happened to our victims. At this stage, no one can say with any certainty what actually did happen to them, so it’s less documentary and more historical fantasy.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Colin replied. “I’m a scientist; I don’t feel comfortable dealing in speculation, but I suppose you don’t require cold, hard facts in this case. One theory is as good as another when it comes to how they died. They were definitely murdered, but we’ll never know why or by whom. Given the circumstances of their burial, the Church was clearly involved in some way.”
“Perhaps not in the murder itself, but in the events that led up to it,” Quinn agreed. An image of Petra and sweet-faced Edwin popped into her mind, but she pushed it back, unable to reconcile their living, breathing selves with the two dried-up skeletons in Colin’s lab. Now that the tests were complete, their bones would be boxed up, labeled, and stored in some back room, where no one would ever look at them again. Petra and Edwin Ordell wouldn’t even get a proper burial or a headstone, since as far as everyone was concerned, no one knew exactly who they were.
“Now, are you ready for the other set of results?” Colin asked, his eyes twinkling with ill-concealed curiosity.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Quinn replied. She pushed away her croissant, having suddenly lost her appetite. She could feel the onset of a headache and her stomach clenched in anticipation of the news, her mind screaming that perhaps she didn’t want to know after all. Ignorance was bliss, or so some believed, and in this case, that just might be true.
Colin shook his head, his eyes never leaving Quinn’s face. “Not a match. I hope you’re not too disappointed.”
Quinn let out the breath she’d been holding and smiled at Colin. “On the contrary, I’m giddy with relief. The man is odious.”
“Quinn, please forgive my curiosity, but how many candidates are there?”
Quinn’s eyes slid away from Colin’s face as her cheeks colored with embarrassment. She would have resented the intrusive question from anyone else, but not from Dr. Scott. She liked this man, and felt she could trust him with the truth. Quinn lifted her face, meeting his gaze head on.
“My mother was raped by three men at a party when she was a teenager. I’m the product of that night.” Quinn tried to sound light-hearted, but she could hear the bitterness in her voice. Sylvia might have moved on, but Quinn hadn’t. Not yet.
“So, now you have your answer,” Colin said. “It was the third man.”
“Yes, I suppose it was.”
“What will you do now? Will you track him dow
n?” Colin asked.
“To be perfectly honest; I don’t know. In theory, I’d like to meet him and possibly get to know him, but given the experience I’ve had with the first two, I’m not sure that would be wise. Besides, he’s not as accessible. He is American.”
Colin nodded. “I never knew my father. He left when I was two. I’ve seen photos, of course, and heard stories, but I never actually saw him after he left.”
“Did you never try to find him?” Quinn asked, curious. She would have tried.
“No. I always felt that if my father didn’t care enough to maintain a relationship with his children, he didn’t deserve us. I saw no reason to hunt him down. My sister tried when she was going through her rebellious stage, but didn’t get very far. He left the country shortly after walking out on us. Immigrated to Australia, of all places. He might be dead for all I know.”
“Perhaps you have the right attitude. I can’t imagine that meeting my birth father will make me happy. The dad who raised me is a wonderful man. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.”
“Then you are luckier than most.”
Quinn was about to reply when Colin’s face lit up with a joyful smile. His eyes were on the door of the café, so Quinn turned to see who hijacked Colin’s attention from her. A dark-haired man made his way toward their table, a matching smile on his face. The man was wearing scrubs under his coat, and a camouflage cap was pulled low over his face. Quinn noticed the tattoos snaking up his arms as he shrugged off his coat. They started at the wrist and covered his forearms, making him look surprisingly macho.
“This is my partner,” Colin said, accepting a warm kiss from his boyfriend and scooting over to make room at the table. “Dr. Quinn Allenby, meet Logan Wyatt.”
Quinn and Logan stared at each other, the penny dropping simultaneously. Logan held out his hand, smiling widely and revealing straight white teeth. “A pleasure to meet you at last, sister dear.”
Chapter 37
Quinn settled herself on a white leather sofa outside Rhys’s office and declined an offer of coffee from his assistant, who informed her that Mr. Morgan was in a meeting and would see her as soon as he was available. The rain outside the plate-glass window still came down in sheets, and it was gloomy, even in the brightly lit office. The PA ignored Quinn while she tapped away at her keyboard and periodically answered the telephone, but Quinn didn’t mind. She was in no mood to make small talk. She reached for a well-thumbed magazine, and immediately returned it to the rack, realizing that she had no desire to read. Instead, she looked out the window, barely noticing the hazy skyline of the city as her mind returned to the encounter at the coffeehouse.
Meeting Logan had been a surprise, but it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it might have been. Logan didn’t miss a beat as he added sugar to his coffee, spread strawberry jam on his scone, and prattled on about the awful weather for a few moments, giving his boyfriend and newly-discovered sister a moment to compose themselves. Despite his fierce tattoos and spiky hair, he was easy-going and entertaining, a man who was clearly comfortable in his own skin and expected everyone to respond to his charm, which was considerable.
“I just got a new tat last night,” he shared as he took a bite of his scone. “And you will be the first to see it, after my honey, of course.”
Logan set down his coffee cup, leaned toward Quinn and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. The skin around the tattoo was reddened and a bit swollen, but the image of a little bear cub was perfectly executed and fit neatly between the older tattoos. Colin blushed furiously and looked into his cup. Logan smiled at his partner and covered his hand with his own larger one.
“It’s a tribute to Colin,” he explained. “Colin comes from the Gaelic name Cailean, which means little cub. Isn’t it sweet?” he joked as he cut his eyes at Colin.
“It is, rather,” Quinn agreed. She suddenly wondered how Gabe would react if she got a tattoo of the archangel Gabriel to honor him. He’d probably be shocked, but secretly pleased, depending on where she got it, of course. “Do you have any tattoos, Colin?” Quinn asked.
“No, but I do find them sexy on others,” he replied. “Especially on Logan.” Quinn smiled at the two of them. They were clearly in love and very comfortable with each other, which was heartwarming to see in an age when many people broke up as soon as they hit a bump in the road.
“How long have you two been together?” Quinn asked, wondering if this was a new relationship or an established one.
“Oh, going on three years now,” Logan replied. “You know what they say about doctors and nurses,” he said, grinning wickedly. “Shagging in broom cupboards at the hospital, and all that. Actually, Colin and I are moving in together,” Logan informed her.
“Just as soon as you tell your mother,” Colin cut in.
“Doesn’t Sylvia know about you two?” Quinn asked. Sylvia had mentioned that Logan was gay, but perhaps she wasn’t as accepting of it as she’d made it sound. It wasn’t easy to adjust your expectations of your children and accept their dreams for the future, even when they were already adults.
“She does,” Logan said and leaned back in his chair, having finished his breakfast. “I went through a ‘girl phase’ in my late teens. I thought I’d try on being bisexual. You know, have the best of both worlds, but it just didn’t feel right. Mum’s still hoping that I might rediscover my love of women. Not that she doesn’t love Colin, but she’s getting to that age where she’s starting to long for grandchildren, and I can’t imagine that Jude will oblige any time soon.”
“Is he still on tour?” Quinn asked, curious what the other brother was like.
“He’ll be back soon. Mum can’t wait. He’s still her baby boy. Of course, now there are new possibilities for satisfying her granny lust.” Logan smiled seductively at Quinn, his gaze skimming over her engagement ring and making Quinn blush.
“I’m just joking, love. Mum is real excited though. You’re all she talks about. I never realized what a gaping hole you left in her life. Shame you didn’t find each other sooner.”
“We’re just getting to know each other,” Quinn replied, a little unsettled by the intensity of Logan’s gaze.
“Give her a chance,” Logan said as he began to gather his things. “She doesn’t want to put pressure on you, but she really does long to be a part of your life. Well, gotta dash. Work is calling,” he added, the smile back in place. “See you later, little cub… and big sis,” he added with an impish grin. He gave Colin a lingering kiss and took off, leaving them to finish their breakfast.
“Logan told me all about his long-lost sister, but I honestly never made the connection,” Colin said. “He never mentioned your name, or I would have known immediately. How many Quinns could there be in London?”
“Not many, I should think. What an extraordinary coincidence that Logan and I met like this.”
Colin suddenly laughed, rolling his eyes as if he’d finally understood the punch line of a joke. “This wasn’t a coincidence at all. That wily rascal,” he said, shaking his head. “I told him last night that I had a meeting with Dr. Quinn Allenby. He knew it was you all along.”
Quinn smiled. She wasn’t sure if Colin was annoyed with his boyfriend for crashing their meeting, but she was glad he had. Meeting Logan had been an unexpected gift, and she suddenly felt more hopeful about her relationship with Sylvia. Perhaps, in time, they could become family after all.
“Dr. Allenby, Mr. Morgan will see you now,” Rhys’s PA cut across Quinn’s thoughts as several exec-types walked out of Rhys’s office.
Chapter 38
Quinn gathered her belongings and walked into Rhys’s office, ready to face his displeasure. He’d been brusque on the phone, and she expected a full-on bollocking for missing their meeting and not keeping him up to date on her findings. Rhys had a schedule to meet and the functions of various departments to coordinate. Quinn had never realized what went into making a television program, or how many people were actually i
nvolved in the production of each episode.
“Nice of you to show up,” Rhys said, pushing aside a memo he’d been reading and glaring at Quinn across his ultra-modern desk. “Scotland, was it? You could have given us a heads-up.”
“Rhys, I already told you; it was a personal matter of great urgency. And that’s all I’m willing to give you. Do what you will,” Quinn challenged him. Her attitude had the desired effect on Rhys, whose bark was worse than his bite.
“Have a seat,” he said and extracted a plastic container from the drawer of his desk. He pushed it toward Quinn with an air of someone making a peace offering. “Have a madeleine,” he said, his expression sheepish. Rhys enjoyed baking, and did it often and well.
“That’s a lot of madeleines,” Quinn observed as she took one to be polite. She was still full, but to refuse would have been churlish. Rhys took his hobby very seriously. The container held at least two dozen golden, shell-shaped biscuits.
“I was stressed,” Rhys replied. “Anyhow, let’s make a start. I have an appointment in half an hour.” Rhys looked furtive for a moment, but Quinn paid him no mind. Whom he met with was none of her concern. She’d really liked him once, but since finding out about his role in Sylvia’s life, she scaled their interaction to a minimum, keeping things as impersonal as possible. When sitting across from Rhys, it was hard to forget that he might have been her father.
“Right. We are due to start filming the first episode next week. I’ll have my PA forward you a schedule. Now, what have you got for me on this new case?”
“Not much,” Quinn countered, annoyed by Rhys’s demanding tone. Quinn had every intention of telling Petra’s story, but she would do it on her own terms, and when she was ready.
The Forgotten (Echoes from the Past Book 2) Page 18