Perilous Seas Page 6

  “I saw a glint,” Rowan replied dully.

  “A glint?”

  She nodded. “From the wedding ring. The sun hit it just right. I thought there might be something else up here ... like a piece of a metal from a shipwreck or something. Turns out it was something else entirely.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?” Bridges let loose a humorless laugh. “Well, you folks get in the shade. We’ll take it from here. I bet your boyfriend is right. It’s probably a fishing accident.”

  “Let’s hope.” Rowan linked her fingers with Quinn’s and gave him a tug. “If this was done purposely, it’s only going to make things worse.”

  6

  Six

  Since Paul couldn’t return to the house until after the hoopla died down — and Rowan had no idea where he’d gone because she forgot to ask before he disappeared — there was nothing for Quinn and her to do but leave once they were finished answering questions.

  “I’ll let you know in the same manner when it’s safe for another visit,” Nick said as Quinn put Rowan’s helmet on her in the driveway. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t rush things,” Quinn instructed as he reached for his own helmet. “Be careful when bringing him back. If you have to wait an extra day, do it. You’ll regret moving too fast and if you have to move farther away, nobody is going to be happy about it.”

  “Definitely,” Rowan intoned as she waited for Quinn to get situated on the bike. When she climbed up behind him, she clamped her arms around his waist. “Can we go on another long ride on the way back?”

  She looked so hopeful Quinn couldn’t dare disappoint her. “I think that sounds like a fine idea. Maybe we’ll find a different place to have dinner for a change, too, huh? We usually stick to the same restaurants.”

  “May I suggest Spinners Rooftop restaurant,” Nick offered. “The food is great and the view of the water is phenomenal. It’s on your way back to the dock and the ambiance is terrific.”

  “Now that right there sounds like a great idea.” Quinn shook Nick’s hand. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need something. We’re here for several days.”

  “We didn’t really get a chance to talk about what we’ve uncovered,” Nick noted. “I think that’s important before you guys head out again. As soon as this dies down and Paul can return, I’ll set up a time so we can chat about the important things.”

  “We’ll make it happen.”

  THE RESTAURANT TURNED OUT to be a phenomenal idea. Even though Rowan was bothered by her visit with her father being cut short, the breathtaking view took her mind off her worries. Also, since the bathroom and bar kept moving, they had a good time finding both.

  By the time they made it back to the ship, they were stuffed and satiated. Quinn suggested he drop Rowan off at the ship and then lock down the bike in the new garage location on his own, but she was having none of it.

  “We stick together,” she stressed. “I’m going to be all weirded out by the hand thing so I want to be close to you. Besides, it’s only a block away.”

  Since Quinn could think of no reason to argue with her, he agreed. It didn’t take them long to lock up the bike, and they were almost back to the ship when Rowan gave voice to the thing that was bothering her most.

  “You don’t really think it was a fishing accident, do you?”

  Quinn shook his head. He would’ve liked to lie to her, at least to make her feel better. They promised to always tell each other the truth, though. “I very much doubt it. I mean ... fishing accidents do happen. I’m guessing the cops would already know that something of that nature transpired on the water at this point, though.”

  “Because the hand has been in the water for an extended period of time?”

  “Pretty much,” he confirmed, their fingers linked as he directed her toward the walkway that led to the ship. There were two security guards posted to make sure random people didn’t try to board, and they both saluted when they recognized their boss was the one heading in their direction.

  Quinn waited until they were well past the guards and out of earshot to continue. “If there’d been a fishing accident, the people on the boat would’ve done everything they could to get the victim back to shore. That would’ve meant a hospital visit. And, if you lose a limb on the water, that has to be reported.”

  “You seem to know a lot about losing limbs on the water.”

  “Yeah, well, I know a lot about everything.” He poked her side and directed her toward the tiki bar. “Let’s have a drink to settle, huh? I’m afraid you’re not going to sleep if you don’t mellow out a bit.”

  Rowan narrowed her eyes. “Is that a dig?”

  “Not even a little. If you want to know the truth, I’m keyed up a bit, too.”

  “Oh, well, that’s fair.”

  Demarcus Johnson, the head bartender, was behind the counter when they arrived. The bar was mostly empty, except for a few workers who sat at tables spread out around the deck, and Quinn quickly led Rowan to their favorite table.

  “Oh, barkeep,” he called out in a taunting voice. “We would like a drink menu.”

  Demarcus, who was busy watching the television, scowled when he realized who was messing with him. “Oh, well, I wondered where you two took off to,” he intoned. “I was starting to get worried. You made it home just before curfew, though, so I guess you won’t get punished.”

  “Ha, ha.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “I’ll have whatever is on tap. Ro, what do you want?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of want something fancy.”

  “A formal prom dress?” Demarcus queried as he retrieved Quinn’s beer.

  “I never went to prom so I can’t answer that in anything but a negative way.”

  “You didn’t go to prom?” Demarcus was horrified. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I know. I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive this long in a life bereft of privilege,” she drawled.

  Demarcus ignored her tone and focused on Quinn. “Did you know she didn’t go to prom?”

  “Actually, I believe I did. It’s a terrible story.”

  “It is. You should totally find a prom to take her to so she can say she went. As for a drink, I’ll put something fruity together. If you don’t like it, tough. The Sterlings are about to hold a press conference and I don’t want to miss it.”

  “The Sterlings are holding a press conference?” Quinn was officially intrigued. “I guess they probably don’t have a choice after what happened. The media is bound to be all over them.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt that. They’re rich-rich. I mean ... they’re Rockefeller rich. If they don’t speak, the tabloids will start making things up.”

  “I’m guessing the tabloids will make things up regardless,” Rowan noted. “Why else do you still think we’re hearing about Brad and Jen getting back together more than ten years after their divorce? As if he’s some big prize.”

  Quinn shot her an amused look. “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “I really feel you shouldn’t cheat on me because I will turn into a crazy person if it happens. I hate cheaters.”

  “Well, sweetie, that’s not going to happen.” He spoke from the heart. “I’m not just saying that because I don’t want to hurt you either. I have zero interest in other women.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Demarcus volunteered as he delivered their drinks. “Whenever he sees another woman, even if she’s hot and stacked like a reality television star, he says ‘blech’ because he’s afraid he’ll get cooties if he’s away from you for too long.”

  Even though she thought she was too drained to laugh, Rowan couldn’t stop herself. “Blech, huh?” She cast Quinn a curious look. “Do you say ‘blech’ often?”

  He merely shrugged. “Whenever I’m not around you it’s a blech sort of day.”

  This time the grin she offered was genuine. “That was an awesome thing to say.”

  “I tho
ught so.” Quinn patted her hand as Demarcus slid into one of the open chairs. His gaze was on the television. “Do you have any idea what the Sterlings are going to say?”

  “None,” Demarcus replied. “I thought there was a chance they might come out and thank us for saving them, but they’re rich and entitled so I bet it’s something else.”

  “I think we’re about to find out.” Quinn leaned back in his chair to get comfortable and watched the screen. Three members of the group that had been rescued stood in the center of a room, microphones at the ready, and it was the matriarch who gravely addressed those watching.

  “My name is Patrice Sterling,” she started, her voice raspy. “As you’re already aware, my family has suffered a tragedy that resulted in the loss of my husband and daughter. The pain I feel is profound, and I believe I’m still processing everything that happened.

  “I understand that you’re curious,” she continued. “We survived on the water for almost two weeks, and the stories you’ve heard are true. I’m not sure we would’ve made it another two days if it weren’t for the brave souls on The Rounding Storm who managed to find us when we were at our lowest.”

  “Well, at least she got the ship name almost right,” Demarcus muttered.

  “I don’t want a lot of media parked in the lot, so I’m fine with her getting it wrong,” Quinn said, his eyes narrowed as he watched the show. “Does she seem zonked to anyone else?”

  “Compared to what?” Demarcus queried. “If you’re asking if she seems more sedate than she was on the ship, I would definitely say yes. The thing is, she was in shock when we had her.”

  “Did you even see her?” Rowan challenged.

  “I saw her on the deck right after the rescue. I also dropped off some beverages for everyone before they retired for the night. I heard them complaining when I was outside the door. Patrice especially was having a fit because she wanted to go home.”

  “That sounds like her,” Quinn muttered, shaking his head. “She did a lot of complaining to me, too. I brushed it off because I told myself she was going through a trauma, but I didn’t like her. Now, the son I felt sorry for. He seemed truly at a loss.”

  “I’m sure dealing with his mother is tiresome, too,” Demarcus said. “I mean ... look at him now. Talk about zoned.”

  Quinn narrowed his eyes as he focused on the man standing to the right of the screen. He was ramrod straight and staring straight forward, although he seemed to be lost in his own little world. “Yeah, he’s zoned, too.”

  For her part, Patrice was still speaking. “While I understand the natural curiosity associated with our ordeal, we will not be talking about it until we can put into perspective what happened. All these endless interview requests are growing tedious. Do you people not understand that we’re in mourning? We have two funerals to plan. Two! Stop bothering us with inane interview requests.

  “When it’s time to talk, we will pick one network and work with them exclusively,” she continued. “We will not be show-hopping. We will not be conducting interviews over the phone. We most certainly won’t be sharing our information for free.”

  “Basically she’s saying that they’re selling their story to the highest bidder,” Quinn noted, shaking his head. “They’re fielding offers from the big networks. That’s basically what she said without coming right out and explicitly stating it.”

  “How do you know that?” Rowan was genuinely curious.

  “It’s simply the obvious answer.”

  “He’s right,” Demarcus said. “I bet they’re also already getting book offers, too. I mean ... a rich family lost on the ocean for two weeks. A father and daughter drowned practically in front of their loved ones.”

  “And the friend of the daughter,” Rowan added. “Don’t forget Carly Vaughn. She died, too.”

  “She should definitely be remembered,” Quinn agreed. “I don’t think she’s going to get the attention she deserves when the Sterlings are shining so bright, though. They’re going to suck up every ounce of attention they can.”

  “Maybe her family will sue,” Rowan suggested as she sipped her fruity drink. “I mean ... perhaps the Sterlings could be found liable in her death. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  Patrice looked to be finishing up her statement. “We ask for privacy in our time of great mourning,” she said. “We’re still living in shock, to the point where I woke up this morning in my own bed and assumed it was all a dream. Sadly, it was not. My husband and daughter are still gone.”

  She made an odd throat-clearing sound as she gripped the sides of the lectern. “Human decency demands that you give my family the solitude they need to get through this. I demand it, too. You will get your answers when we are mentally prepared to relive our tragedy. Until then, you must live by our rules.”

  With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared from the frame. Several reporters could be heard yelling questions to her back. She didn’t answer them, though, and she didn’t turn around.

  “Well, that was a big nothing,” Demarcus complained, getting to his feet. “I thought she would say something good.”

  “Like what?” Quinn asked. “I don’t think she has anything important to say. She’s already told the story.”

  “She told a basic story,” Demarcus countered. “Do you really think that’s the whole of it? Her family basically died right in front of her and she glossed over it. There’s definitely more to that story.”

  “Like what?” Rowan asked. “Do you think something other than what they described happened out there?”

  “Oh, definitely. I’m thinking murder ... and romance ... and pirates in the bay.”

  Quinn made a face. “I think you watch too many soap operas.”

  “And I think you’re deluding yourself. We’ve only heard half the story. Trust me. The truth is going to come out, and when it does, it’s going to be much bigger than it is right now. There’s no doubt about that.”

  “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “That would be wise.”

  ROWAN DIDN’T THINK SHE would be able to fall asleep after the events of the day. It turned out she was wrong. She slept hard, and when she woke the next morning, Quinn was already awake and texting.

  “What are you doing?” she murmured as she rolled to rest her head on his chest.

  Her hair was a mess so he had to push it out of the way to kiss her forehead. “I’m talking to Fred,” he replied, his gaze steady on the small screen. “He claims he got a tip from the cops this morning and it’s something we’re going to be interested in.”

  “What?”

  “He won’t tell me. He wants to make me beg.”

  Rowan rolled her eyes. “You guys are like children sometimes. I swear. Give me that.” She snagged the phone from him and started texting.

  “What are you writing?” Quinn was curious as he watched her thumbs fly. “Oh, you’re pulling the female card. I like that. He’ll have no choice but to acquiesce.”

  “He thinks women are walking balls of PMS every day of the week,” Rowan pointed out, handing the phone back to him. “If he thinks I’m cranky, he’ll immediately spill the information.”

  Quinn chuckled as his phone dinged. “Do you think that’s him spilling the information?”

  “Who else?”

  Quinn snuggled closer to her as he pulled up Fred’s return message. He smiled because he could practically see his friend rolling his eyes at Rowan’s demands. That didn’t stop him from fessing up to the information he’d managed to gather, though, and the one line of text was enough to cause Quinn’s heart to roll. “Holy crap.” He struggled to a sitting position.

  Rowan was flummoxed as she looked to him for answers. “What’s wrong?”

  “That hand you found yesterday on the beach.”

  “I remember it,” she said dryly. “I had a few weird dreams about actually tripping over hands while taking photos. You
don’t think that will really happen, do you?”

  Quinn ignored the question. “They’ve already identified who it belongs to.”

  “Really? That’s good. Is it a fisherman?”

  “No. It’s Pat Sterling.”

  Rowan frowned. “Pat Sterling. You mean the Pat Sterling who supposedly died in a boating accident? What are the odds his hand would wash up on the beach close to his house?”

  “Pretty freaking long since he died on the other side of the state,” Quinn replied. “He was on the Atlantic side when the ship went down.”

  Realization washed over Rowan. “Then how did his hand end up on the Gulf side?”

  “I have no idea. It’s an interesting question, though.”

  Rowan’s mind traveled back to what Demarcus said the previous evening. “Maybe there’s a lot more intrigue going on than we thought. Maybe we really are stuck in a soap opera.”

  “Or maybe the people on that life raft lied,” he shot back. “Maybe the entire story they told was bunk.”

  “But ... how? You saw them. They were all in rough shape.”

  “That doesn’t mean the story they told was true, only that they really were relieved to be found. What if something else happened? I mean ... it’s possible.”

  “What other thing?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m dying to find out.”

  7

  Seven

  Quinn woke to a familiar feeling, Rowan cuddled close to his side. She made little whirring noises when she was close to waking and he’d grown accustomed to hearing them as he emerged from heavy sleep. He slid his gaze to his shoulder, where her head rested, and exhaled heavily.

  She looked like an angel in sleep. He always thought that. Her long auburn hair fell over her shoulders and created a tangled mess that he loved finger-combing. When she remembered, she braided her hair to cut down on the bedhead. She’d been so exhausted the previous evening, though, she forgot.