“Wait, suicide?” Bruce said, eyeing Special Agent Harris. “I’m sure I got a shot in him as he fell. What about the guard I took down in the living room?”
“There was no dead guard by the time we got there. And Mr. Ford’s body was already gone, too.”
“I suppose the guard I hog tied in the garden was nowhere to be seen either?”
Special Agent Harris shook her head.
On the screen, the image had changed to show what looked like the entrance to the TV station, now lined with hundreds of flower bouquets. “We’ll be running a special episode this evening to commemorate Mr. Ford,” the newscaster continued.
“People are bringing him flowers?” Cassidy cried, remembering the way Preston Ford enjoyed watching her struggle and how he ruthlessly ordered his guard to hurt Quinn.
“Unbelievable,” Bruce muttered.
“An obvious cover up,” Special Agent Harris said. “The question is who?”
“I’ve got some ideas,” Bruce said.
Special Agent Harris cocked an eyebrow. “You better.”
She clicked off the television and returned the remote to the bedside table. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” she said to Quinn, her voice tinged with remorse. “I’m relieved you’re safe.”
Her gaze then zeroed in on Cassidy. “When I heard what you’d done,” she started. “Lying to us about Izzy Ford’s location, stealing evidence, engaging with a dangerous criminal…” She put her hands on her hips, her expression hardening. “You put everyone’s lives in danger. That you’re not all dead is a miracle.”
The air seemed to thicken in the resulting pause, then Special Agent Harris nodded at Bruce. “Let’s go.” She turned on her heel and pushed through the door.
Bruce padded in his bare feet to the bed and slipped on his sneakers, then returned to Quinn’s bedside. “See you later, buddy,” he said, giving him a fist bump. Then he pulled Cassidy into his arms. “After they talk to you today, I want to see you.”
He stepped back and took her face in his hands, then smiled, his brown eyes filling with warmth.
“Okay,” Cassidy said as tiny flutters whooshed to life in her core.
After he disappeared through the door, she noticed Quinn’s smirk.
“What?” she said.
“Nothing,” he replied, all innocence.
“When I was trying to find you,” she began. “I looked at your phone records. I noticed a pattern, a certain number you’ve been calling at night.” She played with the fringed edge of his blanket. “Can I meet her?”
Quinn’s eyes softened. “Promise you won’t get jealous?”
Her heartstrings twanged. “Is that what you think?”
He shrugged. “I was jealous of Pete. Sometimes.”
Cassidy reached for his hand. “I never knew that.”
“I didn’t tell you. You guys were so happy. And I loved him like a brother.” He shook his head. “It didn’t make sense.”
Cassidy knew it made perfect sense. They were both alone, and one of the things Jay had helped her realize was how her fear of abandonment made her act in ways that defied logic, like pushing people away. Quinn likely experienced similar fears. “I’d be lying if I wasn’t scared that some girl is going to sweep you off your feet and take you away from me.”
“You really think that?” he said, his eyes wide.
She shrugged. “You’re all I have, Q.” She fought back the sudden rise of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Hey,” he said in a stern voice. “I’m here. I’m okay.”
Cassidy nodded, gathering her thoughts. She had wanted to say this for a while, but the opportunity had never presented itself. “Here’s the thing.” She leveled her gaze on him. “I don’t want you to worry about me. If you fall in love with someone, don’t hold back because of me, okay?”
He poked her gently in the stomach. “Only if you promise the same thing.”
Cassidy’s stomach lurched. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Cass.”
She went back to fiddling with the blanket’s edge. Of course, Quinn would notice something she’d been too blind to see. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“C’mon, it’s been almost two years.”
“What if it’s a mistake?” she asked, thinking of the ways Bruce could leave her—either because he decided she wasn’t worth the trouble, or because of his dangerous job.
“What if it is?” he replied.
She glanced up sharply. “I can’t go through something like that again.”
“You’re stronger than you know.”
“So, just throw caution to the wind?” she said, surprised at her angry tone. “And if he gets killed, I just soldier on?”
Quinn’s eyes filled with compassion. “You can’t shut yourself off forever, Cass. Bruce’s job is dangerous, yeah, but so is yours. So is driving. So is surfing. So is golfing.”
“Golfing?”
“Lightning on golf courses kills an average of forty-one people per year.”
“Okay, okay, I get it,” she groaned. “It just…feels like a betrayal.”
“I know it’s hard. You loved Pete so much. And that will always live inside you. But Pete would want you to be happy, don’t you think?”
Cassidy tried to imagine Pete’s smiling face, but it came too close to breaking her again. “I guess.” She drew in a breath for courage. “I don’t know where to start.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Start with giving yourself permission to try.”
Cassidy sat at the small table in the interview room, waiting for what felt like the millionth time that day. Her brain had turned to noodles sometime after the tenth rendition of the story. Three separate agents had interviewed her—Special Agent Harris, and two others she had not seen before—all asking the same questions. She had no idea what she was waiting for now. For them to arrest her? For them to escort her to the sterile safe house so they could follow the last of their leads? To force her into Witness Protection after all?
She had given her answers as best she could. No, she had no idea if her father was involved with Preston Ford in his criminal activities. Yes, she lied about Izzy’s whereabouts. Yes, she knew she could go to jail for stealing evidence. Yes, she remembered stabbing Preston Ford
