Valerie, also getting uncomfortable about the conversation, crossed and uncrossed her legs. “I’ll go.”
Quinn blinked and rubbed his ears, not sure if he had heard his sister correctly. She hated visiting their parents’ house. Said it was just a heartache waiting to happen.
She grinned. “Yes, you heard me correctly. I said, I’ll go.”
Quinn dove across the room and tackle-hugged her. “Thank you so much!”
Valerie patted his head. “Sure thing. Get off.”
Quinn sat up. He couldn’t believe Valerie would be that forgiving. Sure, he had forgiven the guy who murdered his fiancé, but that was different. That guy was now dead, and he wasn’t sure if he had really forgiven him in the first place. He had tried, but he wasn’t positive that he had succeeded. And it made it so much harder to tell if you had really forgiven once the person you hated was dead. You couldn’t exactly go and talk to them.
Valerie, on the other hand, was doing just that. She was going to go to her parents’ house and speak to them. She was going to show grace and love. She was the stronger person. Quinn was positive of it, and that kind of made him feel bad.
He stood from the chair and cleared his throat. “I guess I’ll go now. It was nice seeing you.”
Valerie stood too and smiled back at him. “Yeah. We’ll talk later. Okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah.” He quickly retreated from the room and exited the beautiful house.
Once he was back in his car and on his way, he let out a sigh of relief. He had never had the best relationship with his sister, but he could tell it was getting better. That was the most productive conversation they had ever had.
Rosie glanced at the darkening sky and sighed. She hated meetings in the dark, but that was the only time that this guy, William Mason, was available to talk. She hadn’t wanted to wait until tomorrow. It had seemed safer to meet in the daylight. Unfortunately, Mason had said this was the only time he could come.
Rosie pulled into the parking lot at the public park and shut off her vehicle. She could see his silhouette against the western sky.
She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands. They were shaking uncontrollably. Realizing that it was getting dark and she was out here alone, she picked up her phone and sent a text to Emily. Just a note saying a lead had come up and she was checking it out. She gave the address to the park. At least someone would know where she was.
Still trying to calm her nerves, she exited the car and strode quietly and slowly across the park. As she neared him, William turned to face her and gave a weak smile.
She stopped about ten feet in front of him. For all she knew, she could be looking at a killer. She couldn’t take the chance that he would kill her, too.
“You said you had information about my father,” Rosie insisted sternly. “What did you do with him?”
William shook his head, a look of utter panic crossing his face. “You don’t know anything, do you? I swear, it wasn’t me that took your dad. But I know who did.” A slight Irish accent pervaded his speech. He must have met her father growing up in Dublin or something.
“Then tell me!” Rosie cried. “I need to know.”
“You’re in over your head,” he retorted, shaking his head. “Get out now.” He turned to leave.
Rosie stepped forward to grab his arm, and in that instant he jerked a shoulder back toward her and fell to the ground.
A small scream escaped Rosie’s lips as she saw the blood begin to pool around him on the freshly mowed grass. She clapped her hands to her mouth and took a few steps back, looking in all directions but seeing no one. Her steps turned into an all-out sprint.
She made it safely back to her car and pulled out of the parking lot.
She hadn’t even heard the gun shot. It had to have been a sniper. The knowledge made her even more frantic. There was no good reason for a sniper to be after a respectable businessman like William Mason. She should know. She had checked and double-checked his background.
That was the second time she had been near when someone was shot. Only this time, she had seen the blood, had heard the last breath. She had been next to him. What if that bullet had been meant for her? What if someone was trying to kill her, not William Mason? As she pondered over the possibility, she began to breathe more heavily. She had to stop this train of thought or she was going to hyperventilate. What had she gotten herself into?
She finally pulled into her driveway and shut her eyes to block out the scene.
Rosie awoke with no recollection of how she had gotten into her bed. She looked around her messy room and noted the clothes she was still wearing. She began to shake again.
She practically jumped from the bed and tore the clothes off. She couldn’t wear them anymore. She was sure there was blood splatter on them or something. They needed to be destroyed. She would never be able to wear them again. Not when she knew what had happened. She would burn them or throw them in a landfill.
Rosie pulled on a new shirt and a clean pair of jeans. She needed something else to occupy her mind. She needed to forget what had happened last night.
Rosie grabbed her keys and tore out of her driveway.
SEVEN
Quinn rolled over and glanced at his phone. No new messages. He was frankly quite amazed that Mr. Lorrander hadn’t tried to contact him yet. The man was usually so persistent.
He shrugged and kicked the covers off. Something told him he should go visit Nate, let him know that he was back in town. Maybe they could manage a tux fitting. After all, Quinn was supposed to be Nate’s best man.
After a hot shower and a cold sandwich, Quinn sleepily drove to the FBI building. He was, of course, stopped at the gate, and he told them that he was a visitor. He could have given them his real credentials, but they might tip Nate off, and that would not be good.
An agent escorted him through the building to Nate’s desk. Nate was going through his drawers frantically.
“Hey, Nate, what’s up?” Quinn asked. He noted the concern spread across Nate's face and realized he may have had the worst timing in the universe.
Nate glanced up. He was holding a phone to one ear. “I’ll send Quinn,” he offered.
Quinn furrowed his brow, but held his tongue until Nate put the phone back in his pocket. “What are you volunteering me for?”
Nate grabbed his gun and strapped it on. “Look, Quinn, much as I would love to speak with you right now, I need a favor.”
Quinn nodded. He probably owed him one, anyway. It wasn't unusual for him to owe Nate a favor. “Name it.”
“Jewel’s little brother, Peter, is in the children’s ward. I have a murder I have to go investigate. Go for me?”
He smiled wanly. “Of course. What happened to Peter?”
Nate shrugged. “Don’t know. She was too hysterical to tell me.” He grabbed his jacket from his chair and brushed past Quinn.
Quinn shrugged and walked down a few halls to the exit. It hadn't been a long visit, as he had hoped for, but maybe helping Jewel out would be one more step to repairing the shaky relationship he had with his brother.
True to his word, he rapidly made his way to the hospital. The children’s ward was three stories and four tram rides away, but he made it in what he considered to be record time. He burst into the waiting room and spotted Jewel slumped onto a couch.
He opened his arms, and she rushed across the room. She threw herself into his embrace and held tightly for a long moment.
“Thanks,” she mumbled into his shoulder. “I needed a hug.”
“Nate said as much,” he offered. “What happened?”
She sniffed and stood straighter. “Peter sliced his hand with a power saw.”
Quinn raised his eyebrows. He had to give the kid some credit. When he hurt himself, he went all-out. “How is he?”
She sank into a chair again. “We don’t know. The doctor hasn’t told us yet. We’re just sitting here praying that he didn’t slice a tendon or s
omething.” She teared up again. “Why did he have to go and do this three weeks before my wedding? Doesn’t he know that I’m under enough stress already?”
Quinn rolled his shoulders back. He realized what a rhetorical question was, and he knew when to shut his trap. This was one of those times.
“How are you doing?” he asked sympathetically, after a minute or two of silence.
Jewel shrugged and snatched a Kleenex from a box on the table. “I’m okay, I guess. I would be better if my brothers would just go with the flow and not hurt themselves!”
Quinn had to smile. Girls were so good at overreacting. It wasn’t like the boys tried to hurt themselves. It just happened. Simple as that.
He sighed and sank into the chair next to Jewel to wait. It wasn’t long before a nurse appeared and told them that they could go back and see Peter.
Rosie greeted the nurse at the front of the hospital and made her way to the children’s ward. As always, the nurses allowed her through door after door until she finally reached the playroom. The children in that room were usually terminally ill or checked into the hospital for a lengthy amount of time, hence why the playroom was in the middle of many, many hospital rooms.
Rosie did what she could to bring joy into their lives. There were a few new children today. She teared up for a moment and then plastered a smile on her face. A small five-year-old named Ellie was the first to notice her presence.
“Miss Rosie!” she cried, dashing across the room to hug her.
Rosie knelt and placed her arms gingerly around the little girl. Ellie had been diagnosed with Leukemia last year. She was being treated as well as they could manage.
“Hi, Ellie,” she offered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “How are you doing?”
Ellie made a face. “The food’s not so bad, but sometimes I throw it up,” she said with childlike frankness.
Rosie nodded and made a face right back. “It stinks, doesn’t it?”
Ellie nodded profusely.
Rosie made a big show of greeting the children she did know and introducing herself to the ones that she didn’t know. She made faces, told jokes, and shook hands. They were all so sweet; it was hard to remember what they were going through. Their illnesses ranged from bronchitis to brittle bone disease. It was heartbreaking.
She had been there less than ten minutes when she felt a small tug on her jeans. She turned to see down the length of her bent legs and spotted Ellie.
“Miss Rosie,” she said, “tell us the story again.”
A woman sitting in the circle of mothers cleared her throat. “What do we say when we want something, sweetheart?”
Ellie smiled. “Please?”
Her mother smiled and nodded, then went back to her magazine.
Rosie knew which story she was talking about. It was the children’s favorite, but the most painful to tell. She had immediately regretted it when she told it the first time. Their eyes had shone, but her heart had broken all over again. She tossed the option in her head now. She could disappoint them if she thought she couldn’t get through it, but she didn’t want to disappoint them. She would force herself through it.
“Okay,” she finally consented.
Ellie smiled from ear to ear. “Hey, everyone!” she called to the room, “Miss Rosie is going to tell the story!”
The kids who knew her cheered and gathered in a circle on the ground. The new ones followed like little lost puppies.
Rosie curled her legs tighter against her and cocked her head, picturing the story in her mind.
“Once upon a time,” she began, “there was a little girl who loved her daddy very much.”
“What was her name?” asked a little boy.
“Charlie, don’t interrupt!” came a scolding from across the room.
Rosie held up a hand. “It’s okay.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe you should name her.”
“Her name was Rosie,” called a small girl. The others mumbled their agreements.
Rosie cleared her throat. “It doesn’t really matter,” she said, trying to convince herself. She took a deep breath. “One day, the girl’s daddy went off to fight evil men. He always came back, every night. Then, all of a sudden, he stopped coming back. The little girl cried until she could cry no more. She made herself a promise that she would find her daddy, no matter what it took. Little by little, the girl grew up until she was no longer a girl, but a lady. She searched far and wide for her daddy, but she never found him. She is still searching today.” She glanced up, knowing it was not the happy ending that each story needed, but it was truth. Somehow, she knew the children sensed that. She smiled at them and anticipated the many, many questions that always followed the short story.
“I know what the girl needs!” Ellie suddenly exclaimed.
“What?” Rosie asked with a laugh.
She stood and pointed to the door behind Rosie. “A handsome prince!”
The other children cheered.
Rosie’s smile fell a little and she quickly spun to see who was there. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized it was Quinn. He was standing at the door, watching her.
She could feel her face turn multiple shades of red. Of all the places for him to show up, did it have to be here? She ducked her head for a second. Embarrassed, panicked, and a little scared.
Quinn must have seen her face, because he stepped into the room and brought his hands out of his pockets.
“What should the handsome prince do when he finds the lady?” he asked, over-exaggerating a shrug of his shoulders.
Ellie cocked her pretty little head and smiled. “Sweep her off her feet! Like in the fairy tales!” she cried.
The other children exuberantly agreed.
Quinn reached down and swooped Rosie up into his arms.
She gasped. She hadn’t expected that at all. He lifted her as if she weighed as little as a feather. And, strangely, she found some sort of brief comfort in his arms.
“My lady, I have found you!” Quinn said dramatically in a very fake British accent. “Come away with me and we will live happily ever after!” He turned and headed for the door.
Rosie, regaining her composure, turned to wave goodbye to the children. She forced a smile onto her face and somehow, somewhere found a laugh to leave.
They squealed and waved back as Quinn danced into the hall with Rosie in his arms. As soon as they were out of the children’s line of sight, he gingerly set her down.
Rosie quickly took a few steps back, distancing herself from him. She folded her hands behind her back and managed to glance up into his handsome face. He was smiling, at least. That was a good sign.
“I’m sorry that Ellie dragged you into that,” she said softly.
He shrugged. “She’s a kid. She didn’t know better. Besides, it was you who said that if we met again, it must be fate.” He placed a hand over his heart and fluttered his eyelashes overdramatically.
“No. I said that two chance meetings is too many to ignore.” She winced inwardly. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. She quickly took control of her tongue. “I mean, yeah, I guess I did.” She bit her lip.
Quinn threw her a look of confusion, almost palpably a question. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but she felt so awkward.
“So,” she started, “what are you doing here?”
He smiled and rolled his shoulders back. “Someone I know is in this ward. Long story.”
Rosie didn’t know why she was nervous, but she was. “I’m sorry. I have time, if you need to talk.”
At that moment, a beautiful brunette ran up to Quinn. She threw an arm through his and tugged. “Come on!” she said seriously. “We can’t wait forever.”
Quinn smiled down at her. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
The girl left, and Rosie looked at the ground. Of course he had a girlfriend. He was too good-looking to not have one. She had known, deep down. Nothing she wanted was ever available.
> Quinn refocused his attention on her, and she blushed a little.
“Anyway,” Quinn said, ignoring her red face, “this is our second chance meeting. We should exchange numbers.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a business card. “Do you happen to have a pen?”
She shook her head. “We don’t have to exchange numbers…if you don’t want to.”
He smiled wider, making his eyes glimmer. “Miss Callahan, do you have a pen?”
She looked around for a second. She had left her purse in her car. Therefore, no pen. She shook her head again.
Quinn bit his lip and looked around the area for a minute. Finally, he sped down the hall, said a few words to a nurse, and returned with a ballpoint pen. He scribbled some numbers on the back of the business card.
“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “That’s my cell phone number. Anytime, day or night, that you need something, don’t hesitate to call.”
She smiled. He was so nice. It was really too bad that he seemed to only think of her as a friend. She knew she shouldn’t be worried about a relationship this close to Martin’s death, but something inside her couldn’t help it. She had a hole, and she needed it filled. She just didn’t exactly know what would fill it. For her, that was frustrating.
She accepted the card and slipped it into her pocket. “Can I see another one of those?” she asked quietly.
Quinn obligingly handed her a second business card.
Rosie scrawled her name and number on the back and handed it back to him.
“That’s my cell. Um…I don’t have another number. You should call if you need advice or anything.”
It sounded lame, even to her ears. But, hey, she had his phone number and she knew who he was. If his brother was an FBI agent, Quinn couldn’t be too bad, could he?
He tapped the card against his hand for a minute, then slid it into his front jacket pocket and walked a few feet away. He turned around to see where he was going. “So, I’ll call later, okay?” he threw over his shoulder.
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