Chapter 72
“DOUBLE LIFE” BY PHARRELL WILLIAMS
I packed up my duffle bag with a few changes of clothes and slugged the strap over my shoulder. It was the first time in months I’d had to leave her, and I didn’t know if I was ready.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it. I’d delayed as long as I possibly could. To Richard, five months of avoiding leaving town left too much up for question in our investigation. And now that Graham was dead, I had to focus my energy where the real issue stemmed.
Chicago.
“Quinns?” I called down the hallway as I exited my office. I locked the door tight and turned to race down the front staircase.
The house was coming along now. Taking months off work kept me busy around worrying about my rebel child in the making. The house was still a work in progress, but the security cameras finally worked, and Quinntessa’s bedroom didn’t look like the walls would fall in on her.
“Bud?” I dropped my bag by the front door and walked into the living room. “Quinntessa?”
When I didn’t see Quinntessa in either of the front three rooms, I jogged lightly into the old kitchen. The room was completely empty besides a few boxes and tools lying around. I searched up the stairs from the bottom banister and slipped down the hallway to check in the laundry room.
I was on the verge of calling my supervisor. My hand grabbed the frame of the patio door, and I threw myself out in the backyard. A groan of relief plummeted out of me when I found Quinntessa laying in the new hammock near the rebuilt gazebo, a book in her hand.
Our eyes clashed, and she slowly pulled her headphones off her head. I crossed the brick walkway to talk to her.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m heading to work. I’ll be gone for a few days.” I reached out and brushed my hand over her curls. My thumb traced the star-shaped scar on her face. “Camila said Erica is going to come over and spend the weekend with you. Sound good?”
Quinntessa sighed. She picked up her book and returned to her page, attempting to ignore me once again.
“You have your appointment with Dr. Teal on Saturday,” I reminded her. “Make sure you’re ready for Camila to take—Quinntessa El, are you listening to me?”
“Yup,” she grumbled, turning the page of her book. “Have fun at work.”
“Camila is really helping us out here. Do not miss that appointment.” I shoved the hammock lightly so she swung side to side. “I’m going to check that you went. I’m serious.”
“If I had a car, I could take myself,” she muttered.
“You can thank Miss Harrekson for Valentina being totaled, Quinns.”
My daughter rolled her eyes. She did that a lot before, but now, it was twice as noticeable. I knew this was tough for her. It wasn’t every day you were captured and tortured by your crush’s family. It was hard for her to fully understand the extend of the mob’s devotion to their crimes.
After two months of repeating to her that Quincy’s feelings were superficial, I gave up pushing it.
Quinntessa pulled away from me so far, I worried I’d come home from grabbing dinner one night to a body in the bathtub.
I’d gone so far as to add cameras to common areas in the house and take locks off bedrooms and bathrooms, besides my office.
Truth was, Valentina wasn’t that out of commission.
I felt more comfortable knowing she couldn’t pack up and take off when I wasn’t home.
“Why don’t you invite that boy you’ve been having out with over while Erica is here?” I kissed her forehead. “I doubt Erica would mind.”
Quinntessa’s eyes flickered to her left, then back to mine. “Milo and I are going to the movies on Friday.” She reminded.
“Right.” I felt foolish for forgetting I made her as me for permission. “Well, that will be fun then.”
“Sure,” she hummed.
I took the chance to head back inside, only stopping to observe her through the window for a moment. It wasn’t my place to push her to heal from her experiences. She’d come around in time. For now, it was only my job to make sure she was safe.
Especially if she planned on going to Chicago, of all places, for college.
“I didn’t want it to come to this,” Richard insisted.
I read through the growing file for Eleanor Harrekson and rubbed my mouth.
Undercover work wasn’t possible if everyone knew who we were. I debated on changing courses after what happened and moving me and Quinntessa into Witness Protection. At least then, she’d be safe, and Bruno could keep me updated on the case through code.
These past few months had been horrific.
I thought my ex-wife trying to kill my child was bad, now I had to worry if Quinntessa was having flashbacks in public.
There were nights I heard my daughter screaming in her sleep, and I considered changing my mind on leaving this career I’d made myself.
Then I remembered how much garbage I’d put Quinntessa through.
She’d lose it all if I forced her back into hiding. I watched her out there on the field after the doctor released her from injury. It was everything she wanted out of life. I had hoped over time, it would become the only thing she wanted.
“She said she won’t talk to anyone but Chris Romero.” My supervisor impatiently tapped the thick wood of his desk. “Would your daughter have slipped up and said your name to anyone?”
“My daughter didn’t even know my name was Chris until Eleanor told her,” I confessed.
“Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.” The man rubbed his face and tuned back to the file in front of him. “We’ll throw her back into A-sec. She’ll sit with the walls for a while and decide when she’s ready to talk.”
I flipped the picture of Quincy and raised my eyebrows at the new tattoos she managed to get while in prison. I knew the meanings well. I studied inmates involved with Russian crime rings longer than her father had been an authority.
One thing stood out to me besides the thick briarwood patch-like tattoo around her neck.
A resemblance to barbed wire. Russian crime lords valued the ability to read tattoos like name tags.
Quincy didn’t have enough stars on her body to make up for all the kills we were set to charge her with.
Although I knew not to trust a family trained to lie, I knew better than to believe someone would tag the boss’ grandchild without proof she’d done what she claimed.
“I’ll talk to her.” I closed the file and dropped it onto the coffee table in front of me. “But I want to offer her a deal, something we can use.”
“She killed twenty-one people, Agent.” Richard narrowed his eyes.
“Interesting that she killed a cop, and suddenly, those numbers doubled,” I pointed out.
Richard shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He leaned forward and laced his fingers over the top of the desk.
“Are you implying we are unfairly sentencing her?” he asked, his voice bordering on the brink of professional. “A murderer? The woman who kidnapped and tortured your child?”
“I want to put some pressure on her before I pay her a visit.” I stood and adjusted my suit coat. “Can you arrange for her mother and daughter to have lunch with a detective? Preferably somewhere Quincy could see but not interfere.”
Richard bobbed his head.
“I can have that arranged.” He cocked his head and watched me take a mint from the bowl on the coffee table. “But any deal you offer her needs to be approved by the attorney general. We cannot offer her immunity. She’s a risk to society.”
“She also might be our only way into the underground. The farm is littered with cult ties.” I cleared my throat when Richard’s face paled. “I’ll speak to her Friday. Make her sweat before I come in. Who do I talk to about picking up the letters she’s written my daughter?”
“Davidson.” Richard flexed his jaw.
“I’ll see you Friday.” I picked up the file on Quincy and tucked it under my arm.
Richard’s eyes weighed heavy over my back as I left the room. I knew he was going to give me hell for even considering letting a murderer like Quincy out of prison, but I had to think smart about the future of this investigation.
If I wanted to get to Ivan, I needed to let his new pet out of its cage on some new rules. Just maybe, there’d be a possibility my daughter wouldn’t hate my guts if she knew I at least tried to have Quincy given a fair trial.