Smokescreen, page 4
Then she saw Tristan pull up in his truck with her sister by his side. They both climbed out, and Riley rushed over to her.
“Taylor! What happened?”
“All I know is that someone broke the back door of my car.” Taylor shook her head, trying to fight back the sudden reality that her brand new car was already damaged. “I can’t believe this. I just bought it yesterday.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it fixed up as good as new,” Riley assured her.
Tristan gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze as he passed by her and joined Quinn and the policeman.
“What did the police say?” Riley asked.
“I don’t know. Quinn’s been talking to him,” Taylor told her. “Come on. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
Taylor and Riley joined the three men behind her vehicle.
“Well?” Taylor asked, letting the question linger in the air.
Quinn spoke first. “We’re going to load your paintings into Tristan’s truck so we can get them into the condo. Then after the police dust for prints, we’ll bring the rest of your stuff over.”
“What about the car? Will the back door even close?”
“I doubt it,” the policeman said. “You’ll want to get it into the dealership tomorrow and have the service department take a look at it.”
“I can’t believe someone broke into my car.” Taylor shook her head.
Quinn and the policeman exchanged looks. Then the policeman said, “Hopefully we’ll be able to lift some fingerprints and figure out who did this.”
Taylor nodded. “I hope so.”
“Come on.” Tristan picked up the opened painting. “Let’s get these someplace safe.”
Taylor let out a sigh and took the painting from him. She stared at the colors once more and found herself with more questions than ever.
* * *
“What are you thinking?” Tristan asked Quinn the moment Taylor and Riley drove away in his truck. Another policeman had arrived and was now dusting the vehicle for fingerprints.
“I don’t know, but something doesn’t feel right about this.”
Tristan looked at the damaged back door. “I know what you mean. Why would someone break into the back of the car? If they were trying to steal it, they would have gone for the driver’s side door.”
“And why was someone snooping through her paintings? I mean, the one I saw was great, but it’s not like she’s famous or anything.”
“It was probably just some kid looking for something he could turn into some quick cash.”
“You’re probably right.” Quinn nodded, but the uneasiness in his stomach didn’t lessen.
6
It was nearly midnight when the events of the evening came back to him with sudden clarity. Taylor had said two words that hadn’t made sense, and now they were eating at Quinn uncomfortably. He still had her number but didn’t consider why as he punched it into his cell phone.
He also didn’t consider the time. Taylor’s phone rang five times before rolling over into her voice mail. Quinn hung up, not quite sure what he wanted to say.
Restless, he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. He stared aimlessly for a moment at the lack of food there and then closed it again. Pulling his phone from his pocket again, he pressed redial. Again, it went to voice mail.
Resigned that Taylor was probably sleeping, he sent her a text message asking her to call him. Then he moved into the living room and stared at the bookshelf.
He closed his eyes for a moment, letting his mind transport him back in time. Emily would have been right there talking to him late at night. He could almost pretend she had fallen asleep on the couch again watching television, the scent of her favorite perfume still lingering in the air.
Quinn forced his eyes open and leaned down to retrieve the photo album that contained those memories. He set it on the coffee table and sat down, flipping it open at random. A smile crossed his face when he looked down at a photo his mom had taken of him and Tristan arm wrestling. Emily was laughing in the background.
He flipped through page after page, letting the memories keep him company until he came to his favorite photo. It had been taken in her parents’ backyard on Easter morning. Emily’s last Easter. He could remember the way he had picked her up, the way she had weighed little more than a child. He had carried her out under the clear blue sky, insisting that she needed some fresh air. He had sat down on the bench in front of a flowering dogwood tree, holding her on his lap. Then she had looked up at him with such joy in her eyes. Someone had snapped a picture in that instant, that single moment that had been a fleeting escape from reality.
“Emily, I don’t know if I can do this again,” Quinn muttered to himself. He thought of Taylor, of the way his protective streak had kicked into overdrive when he saw her racing for her car. He was also a bit unsettled that Taylor hadn’t demanded any kind of an explanation from him about why he had never called or e-mailed her back after Tristan and Riley’s wedding.
He stared down at the picture of Emily a moment longer. Then, slowly, he closed the album and put it away. With a last glance at the bookshelf, he walked out of the room.
* * *
Taylor kicked off her sandals and stepped onto the cold sand. With her shoes in her hand, she crossed the beach until she reached the edge of the surf. As she watched the sun breaking out over the water, she tucked her free hand into the front pocket of her hooded sweatshirt and let herself enjoy the moment, the familiar smells and sounds of a quiet beach.
She still wasn’t sure what to think about Quinn’s reaction to her arrival the night before. After the initial awkwardness between them, he had acted like everything was still normal between them. As much as she wanted to ask why he had broken off contact and if he was still dating someone else, part of her wanted to pretend that the last few months had never happened.
The feeling of being watched was yet another reason she wanted to erase her recent memory. The two weeks she had spent in New York had been necessary to make sure that her career was progressing the way she wanted, but unfortunately, she had continued to feel like someone was watching her while she was in the city. She supposed it was that sensation of being followed that had prompted her to buy a car in New York instead of waiting until she arrived in Virginia.
The night before, Riley had helped her unpack her paintings so she could make sure they were all unharmed, but it had taken nearly two hours for the police to release her vehicle. Quinn and Tristan had been great, transporting everything from her car up to Tristan and Riley’s guest room. By the time Taylor had headed to bed, it had been after midnight, but then she found herself unable to sleep as the events of the past few weeks kept replaying in her mind. Even if her recent stress hadn’t been weighing on her, seeing Quinn so unexpectedly would definitely have kept her up anyway.
He had looked as stunned as she felt when he walked into Riley and Tristan’s apartment the night before, and Taylor still wasn’t quite sure what to think about their relationship. Had he grown tired of dating her and that was why he had broken off contact? Or had he just been unwilling to continue such a long-distance relationship? Either way, they were both living in Virginia Beach now, and Taylor had no idea what to expect.
She definitely hadn’t anticipated seeing Quinn within minutes of arriving at home, but looking back now, she knew she had been lucky that Tristan and Quinn had been home rather than out on some assignment. She was sure she could have handled dealing with the police, but she had felt so much safer last night knowing that Tristan and his small arsenal of weapons were in the next room. If only that feeling of security had translated into a decent night’s sleep.
The water washed up over her feet, the icy cold wetness taking her breath away as Taylor took a step back on the sand. She sensed someone approaching and turned to see Tristan heading toward her.
Tristan started to say something and then seemed to think better of it. Instead, he said simply, “You’re up early.”
“I still have a bit of jet lag,” Taylor told him, relieved that he hadn’t mentioned Quinn. She noticed that he was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt rather than his uniform. “So what are your plans for today, other than picking me up from the dealership at noon?”
Tristan grinned. “The usual.”
Her lips curved into a smile. “I know better than that. Navy SEALs don’t even know what the word usual means.”
“I think our morning plans come close, though,” Tristan told her. “It isn’t until this afternoon that we’re planning on jumping out of moving vehicles.”
“I won’t even ask what kind of vehicles,” Taylor laughed. “You guys give a new meaning to trains, planes, and automobiles.”
“We tend to avoid trains.” He winked at her. “Too boring.”
“I’m sure.”
They fell into a comfortable silence for a moment as the waves crashed in front of them and seagulls called out as they searched for their morning meal.
Taylor glanced back at the building behind them, realizing that watching her surroundings was becoming a habit. “Have you ever felt like someone was watching you, but when you look no one’s there?”
Tristan nodded. “Once or twice.”
“How do you make that feeling go away?”
“With or without a gun?”
Taylor laughed. “Okay. Maybe I’m asking the wrong person.”
Tristan looked down at her, his expression becoming serious. “Do you feel like someone’s watching you?”
Taylor hesitated a moment, wondering what Tristan would think of her newfound paranoia. “Not right now.” Taylor shook her head. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Maybe, but after what happened yesterday, if you keep feeling like that, let me know. People’s instincts about that kind of thing are right more often than not.”
Taylor nodded, not knowing whether she should feel comforted or alarmed by the thought.
“I have to go get ready for work. I’ll give you a call as soon as I can get away for lunch so we can go drop off your car,” Tristan told her. “Your cell phone number is still the same, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. My phone’s in my room, but I’ll go get it in a little while.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
Taylor took another step back as the surf continued to rise. Not five minutes after Tristan went inside, she heard someone call her name.
“Don’t you ever answer your phone?” Quinn asked irritably as he closed the distance between them.
Taylor looked at him, confused. “How did you know I was down here?”
“When you didn’t call me back, I called Tristan looking for you.”
“Sorry, my phone is upstairs charging. The battery died yesterday afternoon.” She looked at him with curiosity and wondered briefly why she had felt compelled to explain herself. “Why were you looking for me?”
“Something you said last night has been bugging me.”
Taylor’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”
“When you realized it was your car alarm going off, you said, ‘Not again.’ What did you mean by that?”
She crossed her arms. “It’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that,” Quinn pressed. “What else happened? Has your car been broken into before?”
“No, nothing like that.” Taylor shook her head. “It’s probably just a string of bad luck.”
Quinn’s eyes darkened. “Define ‘bad luck.’”
Realizing that Quinn wasn’t going to let it go, Taylor sighed. “A few weeks ago in Paris, I came back to my hotel room and the door was open. Someone had been inside.”
“What happened?”
“We’re still not sure. No one was there when security checked it out, but there was a lot of blood on the floor.”
“Blood? Whose blood?”
“I don’t know.”
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “You really don’t know who was there?”
Taylor shook her head. “No one can explain it. I’m sure it was totally random that my room was the one that was broken into.”
Quinn studied her for a minute. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Taylor shrugged her shoulders and forced herself to say the words. “I was scared, Quinn.” She blew out a breath. “When I started to walk into my room, I was suddenly terrified that something bad would happen if I didn’t leave right then.”
“You think someone was in your room when you got there?”
“Maybe.” Taylor’s shoulders lifted. “I sure didn’t wait around to find out.” She shook her head as she let herself remember those first few moments when she entered her hotel room. “I’m still not sure what caused me to go get security instead of checking out my room for myself.”
“Maybe your heard something. Or smelled something,” Quinn suggested.
Taylor looked at him with new understanding. “I think there was a different smell. Like a really faint scent of a man’s aftershave.” Taylor looked at him now and shook her head. “Why didn’t I realize that before?”
Quinn shrugged a shoulder and pushed on. “So your hotel room in Paris turned into a crime scene, and now your car has been broken into here in Virginia. Anything else you’re leaving out?”
“Just that I keep getting the feeling that someone’s watching me.”
“Like when?”
“I don’t know. Lots of times.” She blew out another breath. “Like when I got off the plane in New York two weeks ago. On a train to Marseille. Outside my apartment in Venice. Even yesterday when we were waiting for the police to arrive.”
“Taylor, what did you do in Europe besides paint?” Quinn asked, his voice holding a combination of sarcasm, curiosity, and concern.
“Nothing!” Taylor ran her fingers through her hair and then forced herself to look at him. “Quinn, I don’t know what’s going on. I mean, maybe all of this is just one huge string of coincidences. What would anyone want with me?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. He stared at her for a moment and then asked, “Have you told Riley and Tristan about what happened?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to worry them.”
“They need to know,” Quinn said with understanding. “And I don’t think you should be here alone today.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Taylor said, not sure whether to be comforted or annoyed by his concern. “Besides, I’m probably going to spend most of my day at the dealership trying to figure out what to do about my car,” she told him. “I’m going to head over there when Riley leaves for work.”
“How are you getting back home?”
“Tristan is going to pick me up at lunch.”
Quinn nodded his approval. “I need to head over to the base in a few minutes. Did you want me to walk you back up to the condo?”
Taylor managed a smile, but she shook her head. “I’m sure I can make it on my own.”
“I’ll wait here and make sure you get inside okay.”
“Thanks, Quinn,” Taylor said. She hesitated, wanting to ask him what happened between them, why he had turned away from what they had together. The look of pained expectation on his face made her reconsider. Instead, she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “And thanks for listening.”
“No problem.”
7
Quinn threw his gear into the back of the truck, his mind still mulling over the events of the past twenty-four hours. Yesterday at this time he was kneeling over Emily’s grave, and now he was obsessing about whether or not someone was after Taylor.
Seth Johnson stowed his gear beside Quinn’s and spoke in his Southern drawl. “What’s eating at you?”
“Nothing.” Quinn shook his head.
Seth didn’t respond except to stare at him. Seth’s dark skin glistened with sweat from the day’s workout, and he stood a full seven inches taller than Quinn’s six feet. Rarely did Seth press anyone for personal information, but when he wanted it, he obviously knew that his stare could make just about anyone talk. Quinn assured himself that Seth’s tactics weren’t going to work on him.
“What?” Quinn demanded. “Don’t pull that look with me. I’m not some informant you need to break in order to save the world.”
“No, but something’s definitely eating at you,” Seth persisted. “Did something happen when you were on leave?”
“Not really.” Quinn shook his head. He glanced up at Seth’s dark eyes and let out a short laugh. Apparently, Seth’s stare had worked on him after all. “Taylor got back into town yesterday.”
“Really?” Seth looked at him speculatively. “And how did that reunion go?”
“Her car was broken into.”
“That’s a lousy welcome-home present.”
“I know. Tristan and I spent our evening waiting for the police to dust for fingerprints.”
“I’m surprised they even bothered,” Seth told him. “Usually they don’t break out the dusting kit unless they’re dealing with a major crime.”
“I kind of strong-armed them on that one.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“The guy broke into the back door of her SUV, so we know he wasn’t just looking to steal the car.”
“Right.” Seth nodded in agreement.
“And then he didn’t take anything. He just unwrapped one of Taylor’s paintings.”
Seth cocked his head to one side and seemed to mull over the oddity of the situation. “What was the painting of?”
“It was some kind of beach scene,” Quinn told him impatiently. “What does it matter?”
“I don’t know. But maybe it matters to whoever broke into her car.”
Quinn shook his head. “This is Taylor we’re talking about. I mean, I could see something weird like this happening to Vanessa,” Quinn continued, referring to Seth’s wife. “She’s CIA so she’s used to weird things happening. But Taylor’s just an artist. And a relatively unknown one at that. Who would even know to look for her paintings, much less know where she was yesterday?”
