“No, it doesn’t. But I’m inclined to believe Ed, considering the way the information was obtained.” Geneva glanced beyond Quinn’s shoulder at the rest of the room, checking to make sure she wouldn’t be overheard. “The investigator was very careful not to ask any leading questions. There wasn’t much Ed could tell him, but he did say he’s seen a blue truck near the site, late in the evening.”
“How late?”
“After midnight.”
“After midnight it’s too dark to tell what color a truck is,” Quinn pointed out.
“Ed said there’s a very distinctive sticker on the rear fender.” Geneva leaned forward. “Do you know of anyone who drives a blue pickup truck?”
“Yeah.” Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “I do.”
“Does this person have any motive for sabotaging Tidewaters?”
“I thought so, at first, but now…” Quinn shook his head. “The spill doesn’t fit. It doesn’t help him, not the way he was looking for help. And he’s not smart enough to figure out something like that on his own.”
“Are you saying he might have been responsible for the first two incidents?”
“I’ve never considered the damage to the backhoe to be anything other than criminal mischief. Guess I should reconsider.” He gave her a hard look. “But I’ve always had my own suspicions about how Ned got hurt.”
“I’ll arrange for you to meet with my investigator.”
Geneva chatted pleasantly with Missy for a few minutes when the young woman returned to ask if their breakfasts were satisfactory, and she chose to maintain the same conversational tone when Missy had left. “How is your daughter?” she asked Quinn.
“Looking forward to the start of summer vacation.” He forked up a piece of waffle. “Friday is the last day of school. I haven’t figured out yet what to do with her. She keeps insisting she’s old enough to stay by herself, and I know she’s right, but not in this case.”
“How old is she?”
“Ten.”
“Ah, yes. I recall that age. Too old for a babysitter, but not old enough to be without supervision for an extended period of time.” Geneva smiled. “Parenthood is never easy, particularly when it’s done alone.”
“My wife never complained,” he said.
Geneva admired his attempt at fairness. “Your ex-wife,” she clarified.
“Yes.”
“I heard she’s in Oregon.”
“That’s right.”
“And yet Rosie is with you.”
“It’s my turn.”
“To avoid complaining,” Geneva said as she lifted her tea for another sip.
“I’m lucky to have my daughter with me,” he said. “I intend to keep her.”
“In spite of the fine print?”
He leveled a bland gaze across the table, and Geneva knew she’d stepped into dangerous territory. “We were discussing,” she said, “the difficulties of keeping her supervised during the summer. Have you looked into any educational programs or camps?”
“No.”
“Have you asked Tess for help?”
His gaze sharpened. “Why would I ask her?”
“Because she might know of something,” Geneva said casually. “I understand she’s recently spent some time in the Adams Elementary School office.”
His face lit with amusement. “Yes, she has.”
“She seems quite fond of your daughter.”
The amusement faded. “I suppose so.”
“Have you asked her?”
“We don’t discuss Rosie.”
“Perhaps you should,” Geneva said. “My granddaughter may surprise you, Quinn.”
“She already has,” he said with an unreadable expression.
“Good.” Geneva lifted her napkin to her mouth. “I believe that’s all I wanted to discuss with you today. If you’ll excuse me…”
He rose as she exited the booth, and they exchanged polite goodbyes. She noticed, as she drove away, that he was still sitting in the booth, staring out the window.
The man had a great deal on his mind. Tess alone was enough to make any man sit and stare, pondering, for quite a long while.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TESS GLANCED UP from her monitor when her little bell jangled shortly after lunch on Monday. Quinn strode toward her desk, dropped into one of her visitor’s chairs and stared at her floor.
“How bad is it?” she asked.
“Bad enough. There’s no way to know for sure.”
“What are you going to do?”
“How do you feel about a water feature in front of the building?”
“What kind of water feature?”
“A small lake.”
She swallowed, and she was sure she could actually feel her face pale beneath her carefully applied makeup. “That’s not in the budget,” she said.
“There is no budget.” He raised his eyes to hers. “This project is now officially out of control. And you and I both know there are forces at work behind the scenes trying to make sure this thing never gets resolved satisfactorily.”
“Cobb.”
“Among others.” Quinn shifted and settled more heavily in his chair. “He wasn’t the only one contesting the environmental impact report’s conclusions.”
“I’ll talk with Geneva and-”
“I’ve talked with her. I met with her this morning. For breakfast. And before you start giving me grief over that,” he said, raising his hand, “you told me you don’t do mornings.”
She closed her file and rolled the mouse precisely to the center of its pad. “I would have made an exception in this case.” Again.
“The thing is,” he said in his irritatingly reasonable tone, “you’ve already been paid the lion’s share of what you’ll make on this project. The design is done, bought and paid for. I’ve got a payroll to meet and men who are wondering when the next one will be. Your design isn’t the problem. Getting it built is mine.”
“Isn’t there some way to continue to work around the cleanup?” she asked.
“Not for a while. A week, maybe.”
“What will you do?”
He stood and paced to one of her models and stared down at it, his hands in his pockets. The winery, the one he’d admired. He’d surprised her, not so long ago, with his concise, spot-on summary of the heart of her design.
He looked so big, looming over her model, so strong and sure. She often forgot how many people were counting on him, how many responsibilities he bore on a daily basis. “Don’t you worry about me,” he said. “I can always find work.” He gave her a wry smile. “Men with tool belts are very popular.”
She rose from her seat and went to him. “They’re very attractive, too.”
He cupped her face in his big, strong, sure hands. “Think so?”
“One of the main reasons I went into this line of work. For the view.”
His gaze softly touched all her features. “We’ll be okay, Tess. We’ll find some way to work around this.”
“All right.”
“What?” He drew back. “No argument?”
She wrapped her fingers around his wrists. “Actually, I don’t think much of your water-feature idea.”
“Okay. I can compromise on that.” He brushed a sweet kiss across her lips, paused and moved in for another. And then another, as the familiar heat simmered and snapped between them. He dropped his hands to her waist and yanked her close. “Tess.”
“I’m here.”
“Yes,” he murmured against her throat. “You are.”
She grabbed his collar and hung on tight while he carried them both away from their troubles for a few moments, and then she floated back to earth on a sigh. “I like what you can do to me, Quinn.”
“Good. Because I plan on doing it a lot.”
He shifted an inch away and took her by the chin. “I wasn’t sure why I came here today or what I’d say when I walked through your door. But I’m glad I did.”
“I’m glad, too,” she said as he left.
She moved to her window and watched him shove two quarters into the meter near her car. And ordered herself not to fall in love with him.
QUINN STALKED into his office trailer on Saturday morning and threw a fistful of invoices on his counter. He’d been able to cling to his insurance so far, and he’d received permission to continue work on the building while the En-Tech engineers hauled away the contaminated soil. They’d been lucky; there was no sign yet of a leak into the bay.
He should be grateful he was still here, making progress, but sometimes the daily dose of insanity got to be too much. “Goddamn it,” he muttered.
