Rose-Colored Glasses

by Megan Fatheree

  He opened the refrigerator and groaned. He had almost no food left. That meant he would have to go grocery shopping. He really didn’t feel like grocery shopping at seven in the morning. For now, he took the end of a gallon of ice cream out of the freezer and wolfed it down. When he was still hungry, he found the last couple of tortilla chips and ate them, too.

  By nine o’clock, he had decided that he was going to have to go to the store. He slipped on some shoes and grabbed his wallet. At least he had a new vehicle to drive. With a sigh, he pulled out of the driveway and made his way to the nearest Wal-Mart.

  His shopping experience was going altogether pleasantly when he heard someone behind him. Their footsteps were slow, almost stealth-like. He spun to see who it was.

  “Dad?” Quinn said quizzically. “Since when do you go shopping?”

  His father, whose name was Paul, was tall, gruff, and menacing. He wasn’t exactly someone to go out in public, either.

  Paul shrugged his broad shoulders. “Your mother isn’t feeling well. Had to come get her some medicine. What’re you doing here? Thought you were in the clinker for murder or something.”

  Quinn smiled ruefully. “It was art forgery, dad. And I’m out. Have been for a while now. Is mom okay?”

  Paul nodded. “Wish my family hadn’t all gone crazy and gotten religion,” he mumbled.

  Quinn, already short on patience, tried not to glare at his father. “Dad, it isn’t religion,” he pointed out snappishly, “it’s faith. There is a difference. Don’t you see that we’re all better people because of it?”

  His father shrugged and looked away. In fact, he avoided eye contact all together.

  Quinn felt a bit guilty about yelling at his father, but he wouldn’t apologize for what he had said. “So —” he drew the word out, “are you going to go to Nate’s wedding?”

  Paul groaned and reached to scratch at the back of his neck. “Your mother’s making me go. Says it’s bad enough that I missed my own daughter’s matrimonial. Guess I’ll have to.”

  Quinn nearly detested the way his father spit the words out. A man should want to be at his own children’s weddings. Instead he seemed to regret the fact that he had to go. There was only so much Quinn could say without blowing up in the guy’s face.

  “I met a girl,” Quinn blurted, almost immediately regretting the decision. Yes, he had met a girl, but she was out of his life already. So what he had just said was practically irrelevant. It served its purpose, however. The subject was quickly changed.

  His dad gave a wan smile. “That’s nice. Is she pretty?”

  Quinn thought about the petite brunette and smiled. “Yeah, she’s pretty. Maybe even beautiful.” He had to admit it, she was a good-looking woman. No man in his right mind would have said otherwise. And Quinn was definitely in his right mind.

  “How serious is it?” His dad asked.

  Quinn wanted to scream at him “when have you ever cared about my life?” but he didn’t. Instead, he swallowed his pride and grudge and shrugged his shoulders. “I just met her a couple days ago. So, I guess you could say I don’t know. Haven’t had time to find out.”

  Paul laughed. “Must be some looker to have you smiling like that. Last time I remember seeing you smile was at that Lydia girl in ninth grade.”

  Quinn nodded, realizing for the first time that he hadn’t been thinking about Lydia lately. That was extremely odd. He had been thinking of Lydia almost constantly since her death a few years ago. To suddenly have her out of his mind was befuddling.

  “Well, I better be going,” his dad growled. “Your mother’s waiting for me. It was nice to see you. Tell your brother I said hi.” He turned and walked away.

  Quinn stood in shocked silence for a moment. His dad seemed to actually be warming up to the idea that he had a family. For the first time since Quinn was eleven, Paul had showed genuine interest in what he was doing with his life. It made him smile.

  FIVE

  Rosie took another deep breath and curled her legs tighter against her chest. She and Emily had been talking for the last couple of hours, and it was really stressful.

  “Did you actually see him get shot?” Emily asked. She had been clarifying the story for a long time now, asking all the questions that came to mind. Rosie could see the wheels in Emily's scientific head turning.

  Rosie shook her head. “No. But I heard the shot.” She shuddered. “After that, I just ran until I couldn’t run anymore. I think there were some guys trying to track me down at the train station, but then once I was on the train, Quinn showed up and no one messed with me.”

  Emily got that weird look on her face again. She covered it nicely, but it was still there. Rosie wondered why Emily would be acting like she was, but couldn’t quite place the behavior. It wasn't necessarily suspicious, just curious. And Emily wasn't confused or scared, but rather seemed amused.

  Emily’s phone began to chirp, interrupting Rosie’s thoughts.

  With a silent apology, Emily picked it up and answered. “Yes?”

  Rosie couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but judging by the emotions now plainly evident on Emily’s face, it wasn’t good.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” Emily asked forcefully. Then she sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” She hung up the phone.

  “Who was it?” Rosie could hazard a guess, but she would rather that Emily tell her. She was too tired for guessing games.

  Emily smiled ruefully. “It was Sam. There’s an emergency at the Bureau. You can come along if you want.”

  Sam Kent, Rosie knew, was Emily’s boyfriend. He also worked as a special agent for the FBI. He was nice, and very, very sweet, and he and Emily were on the verge of getting engaged. Rosie could see it coming. It was just a matter of time.

  Rosie thought about Emily’s offer for a moment. The Federal Bureau of Investigation would be safe, that was for sure. She still wasn’t positive that there was no one watching her. Maybe, if she went with Emily, she would feel safer. Even if nothing was wrong, it might give her a sense of security.

  On the other hand, Rosie really didn’t want to explain her situation to the FBI. From what she had seen and heard, they had a tendency to overreact. She often wondered why they couldn’t be more calm and logical about what they were reacting to. She supposed their paranoia kept them safe.

  Finally, on a whim, she nodded. Going with Emily would definitely be better than sitting around her house all day. She might have to pick up on her normal habits once again. Those mostly included visiting the children’s ward at the local hospital and searching for her long-missing father. The latter usually took up most of her time. She absently wondered why she had stopped looking recently. Maybe Martin had distracted her, or maybe she had subconsciously given up.

  Rosie shook off the disturbing thought and slipped into some shoes. They climbed into Emily’s car and Emily revved up the engine. It purred as if it was brand-new.

  “So,” Emily started, “how’s the hunt going?”

  Rosie shrugged without emotion. “Not so good. I don’t have any new leads. I think I may need to go back and go over the old files again. Maybe something will stand out.”

  She neglected to mention that the files held no speculation about who could have done it. There were no leads. Period. Any leads she pieced together were borne purely from her intuition. This was a cold case that no one had the time or energy to try to solve. It was a dead end, and everyone seemed to realize that except Rosie. She refused to give up.

  “How is Sam?” Rosie asked. She really was interested. She had never seen Emily so happy before. Sam was truly made for Emily, and Emily for Sam.

  Emily got a dreamy look in her eyes and she began to tap her fingers on the steering wheel. “He’s good.”

  Rosie snorted, “Good?”

  “Okay, fine!” Emily squealed. “He’s perfect! God is so good to me.”

  Rosie fell silent. Why did everything have to go back to Em
ily’s religion? It just wasn’t possible to escape it with her. At least when she was with Quinn, he didn’t talk about it in every other sentence. But, she knew, she would never be able to escape the fact that Quinn did believe in God.

  She almost threw her hand over her mouth. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about Quinn? It was ridiculous. She needed to focus. She needed to get on with her life. Thinking about a long train ride with a complete stranger wasn’t going to help her.

  With a squeal of the tires, Emily pulled into her assigned FBI parking space and shut off the car. She unlocked the doors and smiled over at Rosie.

  “Ready to go in?” Emily asked.

  Rosie sighed heavily and nodded. She opened her door and languidly followed Emily into the building. Emily explained who Rosie was, and a very nice FBI agent handed Rosie a visitor's badge. She smiled wanly as she accepted it and then continued to follow Emily up two flights of stairs and into the main FBI offices. She spotted Sam across the room. His tall, thick stature simply could not be mistaken.

  “Hey, Em,” Sam said lightly as she approached him and his desk. “Who’s the visitor?”

  Emily giggled nervously. “Sam,” she reprimanded, “you know Rosie. She was at Thanksgiving dinner last year.” Emily threw him a look that said if Sam didn't remember who Rosie was, she was going to strangle him.

  A strange look passed across Sam’s face. If Rosie didn’t know better, she would have said that it was a look of puzzlement. But he smiled, anyway, and extended a hand.

  “Glad to make your acquaintance again,” he said. He was probably totally at a loss as to who she was, but Rosie was grateful for the effort.

  Rosie shook his offered hand. “And yours.” She was usually so good at reading people's expressions and body language, but Sam was one of the harder ones to read. His face had once again turned to stone.

  Rosie turned slightly and caught sight of another agent. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Of course. The tall, dark good looks. The curly hair and the bright eyes. No wonder Quinn had looked so familiar. She smiled.

  “Good morning, Agent Wesley,” she cheerily threw in Nate's direction.

  Nate smiled back at her and nodded. “You too, Miss Callahan. Except, it's well past noon.”

  “Not for me. I just woke up a few hours ago.” She shrugged at him.

  Sam smiled, but took Emily’s arm almost forcefully. “Em, can I speak with you for a moment? In private?”

  Emily nodded profusely and followed him a few feet away.

  Rosie stood still, but even so she could hear their conversation. It was as if they thought that a few feet made them silent and invisible. She bit her lip and smiled to herself. They were so cute. They might as well have been standing right next to her for all the effort they made to be quiet.

  “Emily, would you please explain what a civilian is doing here with you?” Sam asked.

  Emily let out a huge sigh. “Sam, she just went through a horrible tragedy. She doesn’t want to be alone right now, and I’m her only friend.”

  “You know good and well that she doesn’t need to be in on this investigation,” he hissed.

  “If you remember correctly, Samuel, I don’t even know what this investigation is yet! Would you like to tell me?” Emily only used his full name when she was really, really angry at him. Rosie winced and tried not to eavesdrop any more. She couldn't help herself.

  Sam huffed for a moment, and then Rosie saw him cross his arms. “I refuse to tell you anything until you get her out of this office. Like I said, she doesn’t need to know.”

  “Fine.” Emily concluded the conversation heatedly. She walked back to where Rosie stood.

  “Is something wrong?” Rosie asked innocently. She was sure she was just the picture of ignorant bliss. She silently congratulated herself on her acting skills.

  “Rosie, Sam doesn’t think you need to be involved in this investigation. He doesn’t even think you need to hear about it. Therefore, he is going to have to ask you to leave.” She threw a scathing glance in his direction.

  Rosie never dropped her smile. Inside, her mind was racing, but outside she was cool as a cucumber. At least she hoped so. “It’s okay, Em. I’ll just go wait in the car or something. Maybe I’ll run into someone I know.” She turned and barely resisted jogging out of the building. She made it to the car and leaned into the passenger side seat. Thoughts raced through her head.

  Why hadn’t Sam wanted her to know what the case was about? Was it just because she was a civilian, or was it something more?

  She thought she had figured out the answers until her cell phone rang. She picked it up and saw that she had a new text message. She opened it.

  I know what happened to your father. Talk to William Mason.

  It then gave his phone number.

  Rosie nearly choked on her own breath. She had been trying for years to figure out what happened to her dad. Suddenly a stranger texted her with a lead? That was suspicious, but the curiosity was killing her. She had to know what that lead knew. And she would do or give anything to find out.

  SIX

  Quinn ran a hand through his hair and tapped the fingers of his other hand on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to do this. It was going to be so awkward.

  With a sigh, he opened the door and stepped onto the beautiful stone walkway. It took several deep breaths and more than a few reminders to himself that it was the right thing to do, but fifteen seconds later, he rang Valerie’s doorbell.

  Valerie was Quinn’s older sister. She had gotten married last year to a man named Stephen Fischer and was still very happy. But, Quinn knew his sister, and she was also very curious. She would want to know everything Quinn had done in the past few months, and he couldn’t exactly tell her. At least not the whole truth.

  He was about to turn and run back to his car when she threw the door open.

  “Quinn!” she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.

  He reluctantly hugged her back and smiled. That was the most unexpected reaction he had ever gotten from his sister. Ever.

  She released him and took a step back. “Come in,” she instructed. She retreated into the house, obviously expecting Quinn to follow her.

  He couldn’t very well let her down, so he entered. He had to smile now. Valerie had always been like this, and he knew she wouldn't take no for an answer.

  Her home was so like her. It was tastefully decorated in greens and blues, making it seem so very comfortable. There were mirrors everywhere. He chuckled. Valerie always had liked to look at herself in the mirror. He had had no idea that the fetish had gone this far.

  “Stephen!” he heard Valerie call. “Quinn’s here!”

  He rolled his eyes. Wow. He wondered if she yelled through the house all the time. It certainly wasn’t a boring life, was it? He entered the living room behind her and sank into a chair. He was still pretty exhausted from the trip back from Canada.

  “So, Valerie, how have you been enjoying life as a married woman?” he asked. It was lame, he knew, but it was something.

  Valerie flopped onto the couch. “Oh. My. Gosh!” she shrieked. “I’m loving it! Marrying Stephen is the best decision I have ever made.”

  Quinn just couldn’t keep from smiling. Valerie was beaming, she was so happy. He had to admit that at first he hadn’t been a fan of Stephen, but he had grown to like him. After all, how could he not like someone that brought his sister such happiness?

  “So, how’s your job going?” Valerie asked. “And what exactly do you do?”

  Quinn slid his eyes shut for a moment. He wished, really wished, that he could tell her everything. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. He swallowed and began into his spiel.

  “That’s actually why I’m here,” he started a bit too hurriedly. “I…uh…I need some advice.”

  Valerie leaned forward in her seat, resting her arms on her knees. “I’m listening.”

  “You can’t tell anyone, Val. This is just betwe
en you, me, and Stephen when you tell him.” He couldn't very well ask her not to tell Stephen. The man was her husband, after all. It wouldn't be fair to ask her to keep him in the dark.

  She nodded with a large smile. She had to be almost bursting with curiosity. Quinn had expected that.

  “I met a girl.”

  Valerie jumped up from the couch with a scream. “You met a girl? Really? What’s she like? What’s her name? Are you sure that you’ve gotten over Lydia?” She stopped abruptly, calmed herself, and sat back down. “I’m sorry. What I meant to say was: that’s lovely, Quinn. What kind of advice do you wish to receive?”

  He rolled his eyes. His sister was way too good at overreacting. “Okay, here’s the deal. I met her on a train and offered her a ride home. I don’t think I’m ever going to see her again. But, Val, I can’t stop thinking about her. She had just…just...” he thought about the best way to say that her boyfriend had been shot, “...lost a good friend, and I’m concerned for her.”

  Valerie tapped her fingers on her knees with pent-up excitement. “Quinn, this is the part where you leave it up to God. If she’s the one,” she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers, “then you’ll see her again. Pray, brother of mine.”

  Quinn knew she was right. He would just have to trust his Savior to guide him in the right direction. He sighed. The next issue would be harder to skim over. He had to say it nonetheless. “I saw dad today.”

  Valerie coughed. “Brother say what?” she asked. She stared at him with concern. Her head was down, but she looked at him from the top of her eyes.

  Quinn nodded. “In Wal-Mart.”

  Valerie tossed her hands in the air quizzically. “What was dad doing in Wal-Mart? He hates shopping.”

  Quinn shrugged. “He said mom isn’t feeling well. I didn’t have the guts to go over and see her yet.” He sheepishly looked at the floor and scuffed a foot on the carpet nervously.