Timeless (50 page)

“The doctor on the site would have them in his office. They took a full set in the conservation lab.”

Gordon frowned. “Will you remove the brace for a moment?”

Quinn tugged the Velcro straps loose and slid the brace free.  Gordon studied his arms and hands. Quinn turned them palm up at his instruction. The man walked around him studying his back and chest as well. The scratches he was searching for no longer existed. They had been healed by the stream, as had the fresh injury to his arm from the shovel.

“How do you suppose your DNA got beneath Dr. Reinhart’s nails, Mr. Douglas?”

Quinn shook his head, and the lie came hard. “I haven’t the foggiest. May I put my sweater back on?”

“Yes.” Detective Gordon returned to his seat on the galley bench and leaned back against the table behind him.

Tension eased from Quinn. “Was the second DNA male or female?” he asked as he shrugged back into his sweater.

DCI Gordon studied him for a long moment. “It was male.”

He pulled on the brace and strapped the Velcro around it. He was sick of wearing the thing when it wasn’t needed. “I suppose you’ve ruled out all of Dr. Reinhart’s patients.”

“Yes.”

Quinn returned to his seat on the bench facing Gordon. “I wish I could help you, Inspector. I don’t know who might have hurt her.”

“We’re going to be interviewing some of the people here on the dig.”

“I expected so.”

“You don’t know anyone who might harbor unfriendly feelings toward you or Miss Stanhope?”

Everyone attached to Nicodemus came to mind. For a moment, the urge to tell the man everything shoved against his wariness. He’d sound like a lunatic, and Gordon would never believe him.  “No. I have a good working relationship with most of the people here, as does Regan. My crew has been with me since the beginning. I’ve put myself in their hands more than once during dives. If any of them wished me ill, they’ve more than had a chance to be rid of me.”

Gordon nodded.

Quinn paused. He couldn’t allow the man to walk away empty handed. Not when so much was at stake. Regan would need protection if something happened to him. “There have been a few incidents on the site, though.”

Gordon’s brows rose, and he leaned forward again.

“Regan and her roommates’ cabin was broken into and their laptops stolen. And one other more serious thing.” He described the incident at the chamber entrance when the ROV recovery basket had broken and covered the entrance trapping her and Dr. Arturo inside.

“ My men and I thought at the time the bolt had been cut. Dr. Fraser was pressured into allowing Nicodemus’s team to look into it instead of filing a report with the local constabulary. I’ve heard nothing more about it since. ”

“Where is the recovery basket now?” Gordon asked.

“On board
Grannos.
But it’s been repaired. And I don’t know where the bolt was taken. I did file an accident report with the site director, Dr. Fraser and the insurance company. It was required because the man working with Regan, Dr. Arturo, was injured. I don’t know where it went from there.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“How is Dr. Reinhart doing?”

“She died yesterday. She never regained consciousness.”

Shock jolted through him. “Jesus—” Quinn bit back another expletive. He ran a hand over his forehead and raked his hair back. He looked through the open doorway where Regan and DS Keith sat beneath the awing talking. “I’d like to be with Regan when you tell her. She’s been upset about Will and his family, and this will be a shock to her.”

Gordon rose. “I’d like to see the recovery basket first.”

“Certainly.” Quinn rose.

“I haven’t enough evidence to arrest you, yet, Mr. Douglas,” Gordon said.

Quinn’s gaze jerked to his face, and he braced his legs as adrenaline raced through his system.

“I haven’t enough to rule you out, either.”

“Even if Regan hadn’t been with me, I’m sure you’ve talked to the owner of the bed and breakfast where we stayed. If I’d beaten someone, would my hands not have been bruised, my clothes covered in blood, or some other external disruption to my appearance been there to see? There wasn’t, because I never laid a hand on Dr. Reinhart. I had no reason to. I didn’t even know her.”

“Strangers kill other strangers all the time, Mr. Douglas. I haven’t finished my investigation. But you can be sure, I’ll discover who did this.”

“I hope you do, inspector. For the sake of justice and for my own.”

*****

The soft sound of the water lapping against the side of the ship lulled the anxious tension from Regan’s limbs. She shifted beneath the covers to curl against Quinn and rest her head on his shoulder. His arm curved around her drawing her in closer. She ran a hand over his bare chest. The joy that should have been in their lovemaking had been overcast by grief and desperation. A hard knot of pain lodged just beneath her breastbone every time she allowed herself to think beyond the moment. There had to be a way to fight free of this.

“Once the cofferdam is destroyed, they’ll stop looking for the man who attacked Dr. Reinhart. If you’re guilty of one crime, you’re guilty of them all,” Quinn said, his voice husky.

It was almost a relief for him to approach the subject. He had been so quiet after the detectives’ visit. “DCI Gordon won’t settle for that. He’ll want to know every minute detail of what happened to her. He’ll find whoever it was. He knows there was someone else there after us.”

“He thinks he was with us, Regan.”

“We have to stand firm on what we said, Quinn. As long as we don’t waver, the truth will come out.”

“Had I not thrust my hands into the stream, pulling Will from it, I’d be sitting in a jail cell right now. The damn thing healed the scratches as though they’d never been. The truth is too unbelievable to be believed.”

Regan turned to straddle his hips and look down at him. “Yes it is.” Her eyes burnt with more tears, but she shoved them back. She’d cried more in the last week than she had in years. And she was done with it. 

She studied his face, so masculine, so precious to her.  Leaning forward, she braced her left hand on the pillow behind him and with the right caressed his cheek. “We’ve always thought what motivated Coira to reach through time to us was to protect the stones, but I don’t think that’s true anymore. I think she’s been motivated by love the entire time.” Her composure threatened to crumble, and she swallowed and drew a deep breath to steady herself. “If her feelings for Braden are half of what I feel for you, I know that’s why she’s desperate for us to help her.”

Quinn’s hands, his palms slightly rough, ran up and down her back. “Aye, I can see that. But why wouldn’t she give them up for him?”

“Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she was trapped in a situation similar to our own. I think she had trouble conceiving and bearing a child. I think she clung to the hope of curing her difficulties. Or maybe she saw her own death, and Braden’s suffering afterward, and hoped to avoid that.”

“We won’t ever know unless we can talk to her, face to face,” Quinn said. “And the chances of that are slim.”

Regan leaned forward to rub her cheek against his beard-stubbled one. She didn’t have to talk to Coira to understand she had sacrificed herself to protect others, but mostly to protect Braden. “Your brothers love you very much, Quinn. I’ve never seen a family so closely bonded. They need you. You’re their rock, their anchor.”

She looked into his face and read the pain in his expression, the conflict. If she told him about her mother and led up to it— But he’d never agree to her accepting the blame for destroying the cofferdam. Unless she didn’t give him a choice.

She kissed him, offering him her love, and what comfort she could. “It’s going to be all right. ”

His lips clung to hers, then followed the line of her jaw to her ear. “I want to be inside you, again,” he murmured, his voice husky with emotion.

She shifted and guided him into her body. When she pressed down taking him as deep as he could go, she caught her breath.  The closeness, the connection between them when they were joined like this was nothing short of miraculous.

“I love you.” She couldn’t say it enough. Couldn’t acknowledge it enough. Though the words seemed so inadequate.

“What we have is stronger than anything I’ve ever known, Regan.” His lips caught hers again, and their tongues tempted and taunted one another in a kiss, in turn languid and sweet, passionate and tender. His hips rose, pressing their bodies as tightly together as they could get.

In response to the searing pleasure he evoked, Regan pushed downward and rolled her hips. How could they be without this, without each other? Emotion gripped her throat, and she shoved it aside. They’d have to love a lifetime in the time they had left.

She wanted to cradle him inside her body as long as she could. Feel his skin against hers. Look into his green gaze and see his love for her unguarded. And for these moments, as their bodies captured an intense rhythm of giving and taking, she immersed herself in the touch and taste and feel of Quinn’s love.

His hands roamed restless and warm over her breasts, then followed the curve of her ribs to her back. He held her as though he couldn’t get close enough. His fingertips followed the length of her spine.  He cupped her buttocks and guided her into a slower, deeper exploration of how his hips could rise and meet hers with only the minute brush and drag of their skin between each thrust.

The sweet, intent pleasure of it built and built until every nerve ending ached. Her muscles tightened with her need. The first throbbing hint of his release cast her up and into her own. Prickles of concentrated pleasure raced over and through her, skittering like electricity to the tips of her fingers and toes.

For countless moments, she lay spent and breathless, her head resting on his chest. She rolled to his side, her legs stiff from being too long in the same position. He gathered her to him and kissed her, the contact soft and gentle.

 “Sleep a while, love. I’ve set the clock for three-thirty,” he said, his voice a gravely whisper.

Regan nodded, her eyes already heavy.

She woke what seemed like moments later as Quinn slipped out of bed. She sat up and threw aside the covers when he flipped on a small bedside lamp.

“You don’t have to come up on deck.” Quinn said. He removed a pair of thermal underwear from a carryon bag.

The dim light illuminated the muscular shape of his thighs, his broad back, the slope of his shoulders and the tight curvature of his buttocks. Despite his physical strength, he had never seemed more vulnerable.

“Yes, I do. I wish you’d let me help you.” Her heart raced, and her stomach cramped with nerves. Her hands shook as she jerked on her jeans.  “I know how to set a C-4 charge.”

Quinn pulled on the underwear pants. “I can work more quickly if you’re not with me. I’ll get this done in a few minutes.”

She brushed her fingers across her face, and turned aside to grasp her t-shirt and hide the tears that blurred her vision. “How long, so I’ll know when to expect you to surface?” Why was she crying all the time? She’d gone years without shedding a single tear.

“Thirty minutes. It’s at a depth of forty feet. I’ll have double the air I need. I’ll be fine.” He tugged on his thermal shirt and strode around the bunk to where she stood.

She turned to face him, her composure held in place by will alone. “I’ll be up there waiting for you to surface.”

He drew her close, bent his head, and kissed her. He cupped her chin to tilt her face upward. His steady green gaze held reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I love you.”

Every time he said it she wanted to both weep and exclaim, “Thank you, God.” It was such a gift.

He kissed her again slowly, thoroughly, taking her breath and her heart at the same time.

The yellow emergency lights left on at night cast greenish shadows as she followed him down the narrow corridor from the cabin, through the galley, and out onto the deck. Quinn turned left and strode down the port side of the ship to the equipment storage room.

He stepped over the raised lip of the hatch and into the chamber. The smell of oil and a metallic odor hung in the air. He waited for her to enter the compartment before easing the hatch closed and turning on the light. A frown of concentration settled between his brows as he donned his dry suit and buoyancy compensator. He checked his regulator, pressure gage, and dive computer. Regan rushed to help him as he shouldered the heavy double eighty tanks onto his back. She fastened the belt around his waist because the desire, the need, to touch him rose too strong to fight.

Quinn offered her a smile then collected an equipment bag, his weight belt and flippers. She grabbed a dive-light. He extinguished the overhead bulb before opening the hatch. They paused a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the change. A dull glow from the security lights at the dig site entered the chamber and lit their way. She followed him to the starboard side of the ship, the farthest away from the dig and the darkest. He slid the metal stairs into place.

“Thirty minutes,” he said again.

His movements were so deep in shadow she only sensed what he was doing as he drew the hood of his dry suit up over his hair and snapped his weight belt in place. He tested his regulator one more time and secured the equipment bag to his belt.

“Thirty minutes,” she repeated her voice shaking. She handed him the dive-light. “What about the charges?”

“They’re secured to the cofferdam in a mesh bag.” He snapped the light to his belt. “All I have to do is place them, complete the circuits with DET cord and secure the timer.” He donned his flippers and full-face mask.

“I’ll surface on the dive platform,” he said, then fitted his regulator into his mouth.

“Be careful. I’ll be waiting.”

He nodded and climbed down the metal stairs backward with a clumsy grace that came with practice.

Regan leaned over the side of the ship and watched as he reached the end of the metal ladder, eased himself down over the end, and hung for a moment. He released the step and hit the water with barely a splash.