Page 3 of The Condemned (Echoes from the Past #6)

TWO

By the time Quinn emerged from the cave, the sun had come out and the sea had stilled.

A glorious sunset painted the winter sky, bands of crimson and gold dramatically streaking the horizon and reflecting in the now deep-blue water of the Atlantic.

The ragged cliff face that had looked dangerous and unyielding during the day was now softened by the deepening violet of the sky, giving the beach a mystical quality.

Quinn stowed the box of bones in the boot of her car and turned to Rhys, who was standing behind her.

“I’ll finish up tomorrow. There’s no need to send the entire coffin to Colin, but I’d like to take several samples of wood for testing.

Colin might be able to extract some dried blood from the boards and also tell me the approximate period of construction. ”

“Did you find anything of a personal nature on her?” Rhys asked, his voice low.

In England, only Rhys and Gabe knew of Quinn’s ability to see into the past by holding an object that had belonged to the dead.

Her half-brother Brett Besson, whom she’d met in New Orleans last spring, also possessed the gift and knew of Quinn’s special talent, but she preferred not to dwell on their brief but volatile relationship.

He was currently serving a ten-year sentence in a Louisiana penitentiary for the attempted murder of Quinn and her unborn baby, and although Brett had written to her in an effort to make amends, she’d not read the letter.

It still rested at the bottom of her nightstand drawer, where it would remain until she packed her personal belongings for the move to the new house, and she would likely never bother to unpack that particular box.

If only she could pack away the memory of what had happened along with the letter and leave it in the furthest, darkest corner of the attic, never to be opened again.

Quinn turned to face Rhys and pulled a plastic baggie out of her pocket. “I found this. It’s a hair comb,” she explained when she saw Rhys peering at the contents in confusion.

“What is it made of?” Rhys asked. “Is that ivory? ”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s more likely to be animal bone.”

Rhys reached for the bag and held it up. “Have you touched it with your bare hands?”

“No. And I won’t be examining it tonight. I’m not ready,” Quinn said.

She’d only just finished documenting her findings on her last case and turned the Fabergé necklace that had belonged to a Russian woman named Valentina Kalinina over to Rhys, who would return it to her granddaughter.

Valentina had murdered a man who’d abused her and hidden his remains from the world for nearly one hundred years.

Valentina’s story had been a dramatic one, but at least she had survived and managed to reclaim something of her life—unlike the poor woman in the coffin, who’d met one of the most gruesome ends Quinn could imagine.

She would find out what had happened to her, in time, but tonight she’d try to put the horrific images out of her mind and get some rest. It’d been a long and emotionally wrenching day.

“How about we have an early dinner?” Rhys asked. “I promise, I won’t ask any more questions about our ‘coffin girl.’ Just two friends having a meal at the end of a workday.”

Quinn would have liked nothing more than to check into the hotel, run a hot bath, and soak for a while before calling room service, but she couldn’t say no to Rhys.

It’d been less than a fortnight since she’d found him in his flat, unresponsive and cold to the touch, having chased a couple of sleeping tablets with Scotch after his girlfriend Haley miscarried their baby and then walked out on him, casting doubt on the paternity of the child as a parting shot.

Rhys no longer mentioned the incident, but he was still fragile, and heartbroken.

He would get over the loss of Haley, but the little unborn girl he’d seen sucking her thumb during the scan still gripped his heart with her tiny fingers, and he mourned her every moment of every day, regardless of whether she’d been his.

Rhys had wanted a family of his own more than anything, and the loss of both partner and child had nearly killed him .

“What are you in the mood for?” Rhys asked.

“I’d kill for a curry. I’ve been eating bland foods for the past month, since anything I eat seems to upset Alex’s tummy. I won’t be nursing tonight or tomorrow morning, so I can have anything I want.”

“Does that include wine?”

“Yes. I haven’t had a glass of wine since I found out I was pregnant.”

“I’ll get several bottles, then,” Rhys said, chuckling. “You can have a whole bottle to yourself.”

“Let’s get a takeaway and eat it in my room,” Quinn suggested. “I’m not in the mood for a noisy restaurant tonight.”

“Sounds good. Why don’t you go check in, and I’ll get the food and wine and join you in about a half hour? You look like you could use a hot shower after spending all day in that damp cave.”

Quinn smiled. Rhys knew her a lot better than she imagined. “Okay, see you in a bit.”

“Mm. That was really good,” Quinn said as she pushed away the takeaway container and drained her wine glass.

Rhys poured her more wine and leaned back into the sofa, watching her. Something in his eyes made Quinn sit up and set down her glass.

“What is it? What are you not telling me?”

Rhys’s gaze slid away from her face, toward the darkness outside the window. “Quinn, I?—”

“What? What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, now really worried. Rhys wasn’t an overly sentimental person. When he had something to say, he said it. The fact that he seemed worried about telling her frightened her more than anything he might spring on her .

“Quinn, I had a call from Rob Malone while you were bagging the bones.”

“The reporter?” she asked. She’d expected something of a personal nature, but she’d never met Rob Malone, and had only seen him on TV a handful of times.

He was a handsome man in his mid-forties with thick sandy hair, blue eyes, and a ruddy complexion that was a testament to a life lived mostly outdoors.

He had a trace of an Irish brogue, and a smile that lit up the screen.

Quinn thought he was probably very popular with female viewers.

Rob Malone reported from war zones and had a reputation for being fearless and tenacious when in pursuit of a story.

“Rob is in Afghanistan, covering the transition of power between the coalition forces led by NATO and Afghan National Security forces. The transition took place on January first.”

Quinn huddled deeper into the sofa and wrapped her arms around her middle.

Rob Malone was in Afghanistan. Now she understood the significance of the phone call.

For the past two weeks, everyone had kept reassuring her that her twin sister, Quentin, now known as Jo, was just fine and would turn up any day after her stint in Kabul.

A photojournalist, she’d traveled all over the world and taken photographs that not only touched hearts and souls, but had won several prestigious awards, which solidified her position at the top of her profession.

Jo hadn’t been heard from since September, but her agent, Charles Sutcliffe, didn’t seem to find it too concerning, assuring Quinn that Jo had gone without communicating with anyone for several months in the past. Jo and Quinn had yet to meet, having been separated at birth and adopted by different families, and Quinn had no idea if Jo knew of her existence or had ever received the letter Quinn had forwarded through Jo’s attorney, Louis Richards, who seemed to delight in putting obstacles in Quinn’s path.

Her heart thundered with fear. What Rhys was about to tell her couldn’t be good, or he wouldn’t be wearing that expression of sorrow and concern.

“Rhys, please, just tell me,” Quinn pleaded.

“Quinn, I know Rob quite well, so I asked him to make some discreet inquiries into Jo’s whereabouts. I only wanted to reassure you that she’s all right. To put your mind at rest,” Rhys added.

“But she isn’t all right. Is she?”

“Quinn, no one has seen Jo in months. Rob actually had a drink with her at the beginning of October. He said she was in good spirits and was planning an expedition into the mountains to take photos of abandoned Taliban hideouts. She was due to leave the next day.”

“Are you telling me that my sister went off into the mountains of Afghanistan and hasn’t been heard from since? Did she go on her own? Did no one realize that she hadn’t come back? Why had no one has alerted the authorities or bothered to look for her?”

“Rob assumed Jo finished her assignment and returned home to London. As I’m sure everyone did.”

“But she hadn’t returned to London.” Quinn blinked away tears of helplessness as a mantle of dread settled over her shoulders.

“Quinn, just because no one in Kabul has seen Jo doesn’t mean anything. She could have moved on to another location that has spotty internet service. It’s very common in that part of the world.”

Quinn raised her eyes to meet Rhys’s concerned gaze.

“Rhys, I know this doesn’t make any sense, but I just know something is wrong.

I feel it in my bones. I’ve never met Jo, but I shared a womb with her.

There’s a connection. I always felt like something was missing, even after I had finally found my birth parents.

There was just something not quite right.

When I discovered I was a twin, it all fell into place.

Jo is a part of me, and no matter what anyone tells me, I can’t seem to shake this feeling of dread. ”

“I do understand. I experienced something similar once,” Rhys replied.

“Tell me.”

“I was about nine at the time, and school was out for the summer holidays. My brother, Owain, and his friends went out to play football, but I wasn’t allowed to come because of my asthma.

Mum went to work and left me at home with a ham sandwich and a library copy of Ivanhoe .

I was content for about two hours, then something began to nag at me.

I grew anxious and fearful. Thankfully, Mum had left my inhaler right on the table because the stress brought on an attack.

Once I was breathing normally again, I called Mum at work.

I told her something was wrong with Owain and she had to go find him.

This was before mobile phones were a way of life, so Mum had no way of contacting Owain,” Rhys said, smiling at the memory.

“Let me tell you, she wasn’t very happy with me.

She had several clients waiting for her to do their hair, and she couldn’t just leave on a whim.

She became so agitated that the owner of the hair salon sent his son, Sean, out to look for Owain.

Sean found him lying on the ground unconscious, his friends paralyzed with indecision.

Seems they got tired of playing football and started wrestling.

One of the boys, who was bigger and stronger than Owain, slammed him to the ground.

Owain hit his head on a jagged stone that was hidden by the grass.

Sean took Owain to the hospital. He had suffered severe head trauma and remained in the hospital for nearly a week. ”

“So, if you hadn’t called your mother…”

“His friends wouldn’t have got him to the hospital in time. They just stood about, wasting precious time. So, I do understand, Quinn. I’m not dismissing what you’re feeling. ”

“But what do I do?”

“Nothing,” Rhys replied. “Sometimes waiting is the hardest thing you can do, but you must accept that you have no control over this situation. Rob will ring me if he finds out anything more.”

Quinn nodded, but cold fingers of doubt closed around her heart and made it difficult to breathe. Jo Turing wasn’t okay; she knew that with unwavering certainty.

“I think I’d like to be alone now, if you don’t mind,” Quinn said. “I’m tired.”

“All right, but I’m just across the corridor if you need me.”

“Thanks, Rhys. I’ll be fine. I had too much wine, and now I’m feeling maudlin and sorry for myself. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

“Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.”

Quinn climbed into bed and pulled the counterpane up to her chin.

The room was chilly, despite the gas fire burning in the grate, and the wind moaned outside and rattled the decorative wooden shutters.

It felt strange to be alone. She hadn’t realized how accustomed she’d become to sharing her bed with Gabe.

She wished she could snuggle up against him and tell him about Jo.

Quinn glanced at the clock on the bedside table.

He was probably still awake, and she could ring him, but for some reason, she didn’t want to talk about Jo just then.

She’d only get more upset, no matter how many times Gabe told her not to worry and assured her that Jo would return from her assignment safe and sound.

Quinn knew her mind wouldn’t be able to settle for hours, so despite what she’d said to Rhys earlier, she reached for the plastic bag lying on the bedside table.

She’d seen combs like this before, and similar items could still be found today, only they’d be made of plastic rather than bone.

Quinn gingerly opened the bag and reached for the comb.

She hoped it had a story to tell and would show her the face of the poor woman who’d met with such an unspeakable end.