Chapter 8
EIGHT
When Quinn got home, Emma was in the lounge.
Her friend’s mum had collected her from school and dropped her off, something she did several times a week.
Quinn returned the favor on alternate days.
Gabe had offered to get Alex and Mia since Quinn hadn’t known how long she would be.
Emma’s feet were on the coffee table, and she wore pearly pink Beats headphones—last year’s Christmas present and Emma’s most prized possession.
Her dark hair was pulled into a messy bun atop her head, and her blue gaze was fixed on nothing in particular as she bobbed her head in time to the music.
“Emma,” Quinn called out but got no response. “Emma.”
It was only when she walked to the center of the room and waved her hand in front of Emma’s face that her daughter finally noticed her. She pushed the headphones back until they were around her neck, and Quinn heard a faint beat since the music was still on.
“Hi, Mum. Where’ve you been?”
“I went to see Colin Scott.”
“About that dead lady?”
“Yes.”
Quinn settled across from Emma and studied her serious face.
Once, a long time ago, Emma had expressed her reservations about what her parents did for a living, and the conversation had stayed with Quinn.
Emma’s birth mother and grandmother had died when Emma was three.
She never spoke of them these days, but Quinn knew that she still missed the two women who had been her only family before the accident that had taken both their lives.
Emma slept easier at night knowing that their remains had not been disturbed or analyzed by individuals who saw them as nothing more than an opportunity to further their knowledge.
She felt they deserved to be left in peace.
“Do you mind that she will be shown on television?” Quinn asked.
“A little, yeah,” Emma replied. “I wouldn’t want that done to me.”
“She’s a lot older than you.”
“By how much?”
“About ten years,” Quinn replied.
Ten years was a lot to a twelve-year-old, but in reality it was nothing, the blink of an eye in the timeline of a world that had existed for billions of years.
“And you think that makes it all right?” Emma asked, sounding more like a middle-aged woman than a carefree tween.
Did she think it was all right? Quinn asked herself.
Would she want her remains laid on a slab, dissected, and then shown on television?
Probably not. But if she had been murdered, she’d want someone to find her killer and hold them responsible, even if they could no longer be prosecuted for their crime.
“Colin thinks she was murdered, Em,” Quinn said. “Does that change how you feel?”
Emma looked thoughtful. And sad. “Do you know her name?”
“Not yet.”
“And she was about twenty-two?”
“Thereabouts.”
Emma nodded and sighed with her whole being. “I hate that she has no say in what will be done to her, but I would want someone to find my killer if that happened to me.”
“Does that mean I have your blessing?”
Quinn hadn’t planned to ask when she’d accepted Rhys’s offer, but she suddenly realized that it meant the world to have Emma’s understanding.
At seven and almost nine, Mia and Alex were too young to care about someone they’d never known.
And Gabe supported her without reservation.
Emma was the wild card, and she was even more sensitive since losing both Phoebe and Sylvia so recently.
“Will you leave her alone if you don’t have it?” Emma asked.
“If it means that much to you, then yes,” Quinn said.
And she meant it. Rhys would never understand or support her decision, but he was a grown man focused on ratings and profit. Emma’s feelings meant so much more and were the only ones that truly mattered.
“Do it, Mum,” Emma said. “She deserves justice, even if the person who murdered her is probably long gone. At the very least she will get her name back. And maybe she had family. Do you think they might still be alive?”
“That depends on when she lived. Colin wasn’t able to date the remains.”
“So you think she might have died during the Iron Age or something?”
“Probably not that far back, but maybe a few hundred years ago. Or maybe she lived recently and her family is still searching for her. We think she was married. Or engaged.”
“You think?” Emma asked, her eyes widening at the possibility. “What if she had a child?”
“Then I hope this will bring them closure. Although according to the police database, her description doesn’t match any missing persons reports.”
“Maybe she was never reported missing. Or maybe her family thought she left. They might think she’s out there somewhere, living her best life, and all this time she’s been floating in that well, like some specimen in a horror movie.
” Emma shuddered dramatically. “Speaking of movies, can we watch the Barbie movie tonight? We can invite Logan and Max again. I like it when they come over. And we can do it early, since it’s a school night. ”
“Shoot Logan a text. I bet Max will enjoy the film.”
“It will go right over his head,” Emma said disdainfully. “But Mia and Alex will probably like it.” She suddenly looked worried. “You can’t let Alex touch that woman’s stuff, Mum. I don’t want him to see what happened.”
Quinn had desperately hoped that her ability would not be passed on to her children.
While Mia had been spared the Sight, it had recently become clear that Alex had not been so fortunate.
He was still too young to understand what he was seeing, so they took care to keep him from handling anything that had belonged to the deceased and might distress him if he were to witness their memories.
“Don’t worry. I will keep the earring Colin found safe. ”
“Earring? I thought it was that Irish ring.”
“It wasn’t hers.”
“Really? So why was she wearing it when she died?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
“Twenty-two years old,” Emma said under her breath. “Blimey.”
Quinn would have used a stronger word, but she would be setting a bad example. Not that Emma didn’t hear that sort of talk every day at school.
“Logan can’t tonight,” Emma said after she’d read an incoming text. “Want to dance?” she suddenly asked.
“Dance? What, now?”
“I just love this song. It’s Bebe Rexha and David Guetta.”
Quinn only recognized one of those names, but she acknowledged that her days of dancing with her daughter were probably numbered, since Emma was on the cusp of becoming a teenager and would soon start to think everything Quinn did was mortifyingly embarrassing.
“Sure. Let’s do it.”
“Brilliant,” Emma said and put the song on speaker. And then they jumped around until they were both breathless and laughing at each other’s antics.
It was just after five, and the kids had finished their homework and had gone to their rooms before dinner, when Quinn took the container from her bag and held it tight as she raced upstairs.
She couldn’t wait another minute to see if the earring would work.
Her heart thumping, she got comfortable on the bed and prayed that this time she would see something other than darkness.
She opened the container, dropped the earring on her palm, and shut her eyes.