The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9)

by Irina Shapiro

  “Well, enjoy. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Jude said, and headed toward the nearest Tube station.

  Quinn decided to splurge on a taxi. She hoped Gabe had organized something for dinner. She was too tired to cook and was starving, having missed lunch. Quinn let herself into the house, tossed her bag onto the console table in the foyer, kicked off her shoes, and walked into the lounge. The spicy smell of curry emanating from the kitchen made her mouth water. Gabe must have picked up a takeaway on his way home. Through the door, she could see the table, set for two, and a bottle of red wine and glasses in readiness on the worktop. A bunch of yellow tulips stood in pride of place on the table, the whole scene like something out of a magazine. Husband of the Year was kipping on the sofa but woke up the moment Quinn walked in.

  “Hi,” he said blearily, and sat up, running a hand through his hair. “All right?”

  Quinn had called him several hours ago, but they hadn’t spoken since Gabe had texted to tell her that he’d dropped off the children at Jill’s.

  “More than all right. Hungry and tired, though,” Quinn said. “It turned out to be a very emotional day. Sylvia was sorry to have missed Max’s birth. She really wanted to be there for Logan. She’s coming back from Manchester tomorrow.”

  “Where’s Jude?” Gabe asked.

  “He went back to Sylvia’s. He just wanted a few hours to himself.”

  “Good, because I only got enough food for us,” Gabe said ungraciously.

  “Curry smells amazing,” Quinn said, her stomach rumbling. “Are you ready to eat?”

  “We should probably heat it up. It’s been sitting out for an hour.”

  “I’ll just pop it in the oven for a few minutes,” Quinn said, “but first, I have to tell you about Max. Oh, Gabe, he is so sweet. He looks just like Logan. Here, I have a photo,” she gushed as she pulled her mobile out of her back pocket. She held out the phone to Gabe, who reached for it slowly.

  Quinn expected a smile at the very least, but what she saw on Gabe’s face was shock. He seemed to be staring just past her shoulder, and Quinn felt a sudden cool breeze on her back. She shivered in her thin jumper. Had Gabe forgotten to close the patio door?

  She stood and turned around, and came face to face with Brett, who was standing directly behind her, a wicked-looking blade in his hand.

  “Hey there, sis,” he said pleasantly.

  Quinn opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She backed away but realized there was nowhere to go when she felt the low coffee table press against the backs of her calves.

  “Stay where you are,” Brett ordered Gabe, who’d sprung to his feet. “Now, sit down and put your cell phones on the coffee table where I can see them,” he said. “Don’t test me, Gabe,” Brett snarled when Gabe made no move to comply and looked meaningfully toward Quinn.

  “Do as he says,” Quinn said. She barely recognized her own voice. It was shaky and hoarse. She sat down and laid her mobile on the table. Gabe followed suit. Quinn could almost feel the tension coursing through him, but he remained silent, his angry stare fixed on Brett.

  Just then, Rufus exploded into the lounge, barking like mad, his tail wagging at the promise of a new friend to play with. He must have been upstairs in Emma’s room. Rufus made straight for Brett, eager to play, but Brett kicked the dog so hard, Rufus went flying across the lounge and landed with a thud after he hit the wall. He whimpered pitifully, then bared his teeth in a snarl, but remained where he was, too frightened to try again.

  “Get out,” Brett hissed.

  Knowing what was good for him, Rufus hobbled out of the lounge and headed for the stairs, his tail between his legs. Quinn’s heart hammered painfully against her ribs, but she did her best to keep calm. As long as she knew the children were safe, she could still breathe.

  “What are you doing here, Brett?” Gabe asked gruffly.

  “Came for a flying visit,” Brett replied. He stood over them, knife clasped in his hand, the skull ring they’d seen on the CCTV clearly visible. The light of the lamp glinted off the steel blade, which was long and thin. And deadly.

  Quinn forced herself to meet Brett’s gaze, daring him to say something, to explain his presence in their house. He looked down at her, an odd expression on his face. It was almost wistful, as if he were remembering the good times they’d had, except that there hadn’t been any.

  “I had a good life before you came along,” he said at last. “Ruining lives seems to be a talent of yours.” Quinn didn’t reply.

  “I had parents who loved me, friends, hobbies. I was going to go to college, party for four years, then decide what I wanted to do with my life. I was happy. But then you showed up out of the blue and started poking your nose where it didn’t belong, digging up the past. Filming,” Brett added with disgust. “And no one will touch me now that I have a criminal record. Even my own parents look at me and wonder if they’ve raised a monster,” Brett said miserably. “But it was all your fault. You never stopped to think how I might feel about what you were going to reveal. Or Dad. Sure, he told you it was all right, but it wasn’t easy for him, you know, coming to terms with what you’d so carelessly spewed to the world. It’s not fun, being biracial in Louisiana, especially not in prison. People are not so open-minded there, and I have the scars to prove it.”

  “Maybe you got your ass kicked in prison because you tried to kill your sister and her unborn child,” Gabe snapped.

  “You shut up, or she gets it,” Brett said, pointing the knife at Quinn.

  “Brett,” Quinn said in a conciliatory tone. “I’ve apologized to you and told you I should have been more sensitive to your feelings.”

  “Yeah, only when you thought you were going to die and would have said anything to get me to let you out. And now you’ve had the investigation into Jo’s death reopened, with me as the star suspect.”

  “Why would you think that?” Quinn asked carefully. She hadn’t mentioned anything to Seth, so how in the world would Brett have found out about an investigation taking place in England, and so quickly? It’d only been a few days since DI Marshall had called her with the news.

  “My lawyer tipped me off. He has contacts in the NOPD. Seems they’ve received a request for my fingerprints, DNA profile, and psych evaluation.”

  “That’s got nothing to do with me,” Quinn lied, praying he’d believe her.

  “Doesn’t it? You’re the only person who’d care, which really makes me question your sanity. The bitch tried to fuck you. Royally. She’d set out to destroy your family. You should be grateful she’s dead, not looking for someone to pin it on. Haven’t you done enough harm?”

  Quinn stared at Brett, nailing him with her gaze. “Did you kill her on purpose?” she demanded. What did she have to lose? Brett wasn’t simply going to say his piece and leave.

  “Yeah, I did. And now I’m going to kill you. Should have done it right the first time. The world will be a better place without Quinn Allenby Russell and her awesome gift,” he said sarcastically.

  Quinn felt a shudder of fear. Would Brett really use that blade on her? Did he have what it took to kill someone in such a personal way? It was one thing to lock her in a tomb, and quite another to look her in the eye and stab her. But then, he’d run over Jo. He must have seen her face at the moment of impact, must have heard her screams and seen her mangled body in the rearview mirror. He may have even slowed down to make sure she was dead. He’d never hit the brake, so there had been no tire marks to reconstruct what had happened at the moment of impact.

  Quinn’s gaze locked with Brett’s, and suddenly she knew with unwavering certainty that he would kill her. He was past caring.

  “You’ll go down for murder. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison,” Quinn said, but she knew she was grasping at straws.

  Brett chuckled. “By the time the New Orleans Police Department gets off their collective ass and forwards the information, it’ll be the middle of next
week, and if the bureaucracy in this country is anything like it is in the States, which I’m pretty sure it is, it will take another week at least to issue an extradition order. I’ll be long gone by then, and no one will ever find me. The world is a big place, Quinny.”

  Brett reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic medicine container. Inside were two black capsules. “For you,” he said conversationally.

  “What the hell is that?” Gabe demanded.

  “Cyanide capsules. It’s really amazing what you can get on the dark web these days. You’ll be gone in moments. Double suicide. So romantic.”

  “You can’t force us to take them,” Gabe growled.

  “Yeah, I can,” Brett said. “Given the choice between a quick, almost painless death and an agonizing, bloody end, you’ll choose the cyanide. And if you don’t, I’ll carve up your lady right before your eyes. Don’t worry; I have all night. No one knows I’m here. And looks like no one’s coming to your rescue.” Brett shrugged. “The choice is yours. I’m only trying to be gallant here, like a movie villain.” He laughed without mirth.

  “Brett, please. The children,” Quinn moaned.

  “Your children are not my problem. You haven’t given a thought to my children, who would have grown up knowing their father was not only a half-breed but the guy who’d locked his pregnant sister in a vault and left her to die. Not the family history any kid wants. Now, come on, stop wasting time. Which one of you wants to go first? Do you want to end it now, Gabe, or do you want to hold your wife as she draws her last breath? Knowing you, I’d say you’ll play the hero to the end.”

  Quinn was shaking so hard, her teeth were chattering. All she could think of was her babies. Mia and Alex were young enough to recover in time, but Emma would be scarred for life. She’d already lost her mother and grandmother, and to lose her parents in what she would think was suicide would damage her permanently. If only there was a way to leave word, to explain. Perhaps the police would be able to figure out what had happened, but Brett seemed to have it all planned out. No one would ever know he’d even been here.

  How had it come to this? Quinn thought frantically. Why did she think she could go up against Brett? He was diabolical. Even now, there was nothing in his gaze save impatience. He wasn’t scared or sorry for the way things had turned out, or even truly angry. He was immune to normal human emotions. All he wanted was to get this over with so he could get out of London. Where did he think he was going to go?

  Gabe’s thigh vibrated with tension next to Quinn’s. She laid her hand on his leg, hoping the gesture would convey how much she loved him and how sorry she was for all the trouble she’d brought into their lives. She turned to look at him, but Gabe wasn’t looking at her; he was watching Brett, a look of pure hatred on his face. He looked more angry than scared, which she supposed was better than what she was feeling. This was all her fault. Once again, she’d brought danger into their lives, and this time there would be no dramatic rescue.

  Brett exhaled loudly and pushed the pills toward them. “Well?” he demanded. “How long are you going to stall? The cavalry ain’t coming, darlings.”

  Quinn began to shake even harder, her extremities growing cold with terror. Was this it? Was this how it was really going to end? Just this morning, she’d been planning a dinner party, then had welcomed a new member of the family into the world. She’d even been allowed to hold Max for a few moments. And now she was about to die, because of her own stupidity. She should have just let it go, told Daisy to go home and forget what she’d seen. Getting justice for Jo wasn’t worth their lives, or the loss their children would feel for the rest of their days.

  If only Jude had come back with me, Quinn thought desperately. It would have given them greater odds. She turned to Gabe again and whispered, “I love you, Gabe. I’m so sorry for everything.”

  “I love you too,” he said softly. “And you have nothing to be sorry for. You never really had a choice.”

  “Well, isn’t this sweet? Now, if you’re done reassuring each other, can we please get on with this? I’m getting kind of hungry. I think I’ll have some fish and chips. That’s the only thing you people do well, in my humble opinion. Cooking is definitely not your forte.” Brett tilted his head to the side, as if watching something particularly amusing. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need a moment to pray?” he asked. “How inconsiderate of me. Go on, then. Say your prayers. Much good they’ll do you.”

  Gabe reached for Quinn’s hand and bowed his head. She followed suit, fervently praying to God for some sort of intervention. But none would come; she knew that. They weren’t expecting anyone, and if someone had decided to drop by, they’d simply walk away when no one came to the door. They were entirely at Brett’s mercy.

  “Pray with me,” Gabe said. She’d never known him to pray out loud, not even the few times they’d gone to church, but she supposed he needed this last bit of comfort. He’d chosen a prayer from the Old Testament, which, under different circumstances, Quinn might have found surprising, but nothing could shock her tonight.

  Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love;

  according to Your great compassion blot out my transgressions.

  Wash away all my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin.

  For I know my transgressions, and my sin is always before me.

  Against You, You only, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight,

  so that You are proved right when You speak and justified when You judge.

  Surely I have been a sinner from birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me…

  Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me and I will be whiter than snow…

  Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.

  Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me.

  Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me.

  Then will I teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will turn back to You.

  Quinn never saw it coming. Evidently, neither did Brett, because when Mia’s Barbie computer came hurtling through the air and hit him in the head with surprising accuracy, he lost his balance and nearly fell, the few unguarded moments all Gabe needed to charge his enemy.

  Gabe hurled himself at Brett, knocking him to the floor, his fingers closing around Brett’s wrist with crushing force. Brett cried out in pain but didn’t let go of the knife. He was a few inches shorter than Gabe, but he was nearly twenty years younger and more muscular, no longer the lanky kid Quinn had met in New Orleans four years ago. They grappled and rolled on the floor, shoving aside the furniture and grunting with effort. It must have been only a few seconds since Gabe had exploded out of his seat, but it felt like hours, the struggle taking place in slow motion before it froze into a timeless tableau.

  She knew she should do something to help, but she was paralyzed with indecision, unsure if she should try to help Gabe subdue Brett or call the police. She was just grabbing for her mobile when Gabe gasped, his eyes opening wide with shock, the moment exploding into shattering reality when Quinn saw the hilt of the knife protruding from Gabe’s side.

  She shrieked and dropped the phone from her shaking hand, unable to tear her gaze from Gabe, who wasn’t giving in to the pain. His hands were wrapped around Brett’s throat as the two men thrashed violently on the floor.

  Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, but Quinn barely heard it. “Gabe, what should I do?” she screamed. “Tell me what to do.”

  “Unlock the door,” he said hoarsely. Quinn rushed to the door and opened it just in time to allow police officers to stream into the house, weapons drawn.

  Someone grabbed her by the arm and pulled her outside. “My husband,” Quinn wailed. “He’s been stabbed.”

  “An ambulance is already on its way,” the officer said. “Let’s get you out of the way.”

  Quinn couldn’t see what was happening inside
, but there was a lot of shouting. The radio of the officer who was with her crackled, and she heard loud and clear, “The situation is under control. Send the paramedics in as soon as they arrive.”

  An ambulance came racing down the street, siren shrieking. Quinn’s legs gave out just as the paramedics rushed inside. She sank to the ground and buried her face in her hands, unable to come to grips with the horror she’d witnessed.

  “Here you go, love,” the officer said as he wrapped a foil blanket around her shoulders. “That’s one brave little girl you have.”

  “What?” Quinn asked, uncomprehending.

  “You daughter. She called the police,” the officer said.

  Quinn shook her head. “She’s not at home.” Gabe had dropped the children off, and the table had been set for two. She’d assumed Emma had changed her mind and decided to spend the night at Jill’s.

  “No, she’s in her bedroom,” the man said kindly. He pressed a button on his com and said, “Get a family liaison officer here.”

  “Please, I need to see her. She must be terrified,” Quinn cried, finally piecing together what must have happened. Emma had probably had her earbuds in, which would explain why she hadn’t come downstairs when Quinn returned home. And she didn’t much like curry, so Gabe must have given her something else for dinner. At some point, Emma had taken the earbuds out and heard what was happening downstairs, possibly after an injured Rufus had come limping into her bedroom. Dear God, how frightened she must have been, Quinn thought, still amazed that Emma had the presence of mind to use her mobile to call the police.

  “Don’t you worry. She’s in good hands,” the officer said. Quinn didn’t even know his name. “Let’s get you off the ground, shall we?” he said, opening the door of the police car for her and helping her into the front seat.

  Quinn hung her head, her thoughts spinning out of control as the images replayed themselves over and over. She saw the knife protruding from Gabe’s side, the stain spreading as the blood hungrily soaked into the fabric of his cotton shirt. Quinn was in a daze, her mind refusing to cooperate, her hands shaking so badly, she had to push them between her thighs. She barely noticed when two officers led Brett out in handcuffs and forced him into another police car, but her head snapped up when the paramedics wheeled out a gurney.