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six months later
chapter 81
quinn
Quinn hates memorial services. She’s not a big fan of funerals or hospitals either, but at least you can be miserable at a fucking funeral. No one expects you to quote-unquotecelebrate a life well-livedor, even worse,find closure.
She avoids the journalists and photographers clustered near the church steps.
She’s not here in a professional capacity today. She’s here as Alex’s friend.
Alex’s sister, Harriet, hands her an order of service as she enters the nave. ‘It was good of you to come,’ she says automatically.
Quinn glances at the smiling photograph on the pamphlet. It looks nothing like Alex.
‘How’s Lottie doing?’ she asks.
‘I know people say kids are resilient, but it’s amazing how quickly she’s bounced back,’ Harriet says. ‘And she seems to like the Shetlands – oh, Mrs Harris. It was good of you to come.’
The service is moving but unsentimental and mercifully brief. A touching eulogy from Alex’s father, some uplifting readings, the usual Henry Scott Holland poem,death is nothing at all, and then ‘Jerusalem’. Quinn’s an atheist, but the faith of thosegathered in the packed church is oddly touching and for a moment she wishes she shared it. And then she remembers what happened in Sicily and she’s glad she doesn’t believe in God.
Afterwards, everyone adjourns to a nearby pub. Quinn hadn’t planned to go – she’s sober again, and her new six-month chip is burning a hole in her pocket – but she overhears Harriet say Lottie’s going to be there and Quinn wants to see the kid for herself. She needs to know the little girl is flourishing, despite everything that happened. She needs to know she did the right thing.
Lottie’s all that matters. If something goes wrong, you don’t wait for me. You take Lottie and you leave.
What kind of fucking psycho fakes his own death, for God’s sake? Quinn’s spidey senses had been telling her all along there was more to this story than met the eye, but she’d never have picked a zombie husband back from the dead.
She hadn’t wanted to leave Alex alone in that courtyard with him, but she’d promised she’d take care of Lottie and she wasn’t going to let her down.You take Lottie and you leave.
It was just dumb luck she’d spotted Lottie running away from the villa. The little girl must’ve been hiding somewhere: under a bed, maybe, or behind one of the massive bougainvillea planters in the courtyard. Quinn had caught sight of her from the car, a tiny figure scrambling down the rocky slope to the road.
The poor kid had been terrified when Quinn finally caught up to her, clearly convinced she was about to be murdered. Quinn knows her eye patch can freak people out; the little girl thought Quinn was some sort of homicidal maniac who’d killed her mother. She’d never have got her in the car if the child hadn’t been so exhausted. The poor kid hadn’t even got any shoes on. She’d cut her bare feet to bloody ribbons.
If Quinn had headed straight to the airport there and then, things would’ve ended very differently. She should have taken the little girl home, as Alex had told her to do. It’s why she’d called Quinn for help and not Jack Murtaugh.
But she’d broken her promise.
She’d gone back.
Lottie had been semi-comatose in the back of the car. Quinn had pillowed the little girl’s head on her jacket and double-locked the doors, cracking the windows so the child had some fresh air.
Then she’d slipped back into the villa the same way she’d left. She could hear shouting again, but this time it was in hectic Italian: Luca and his mother. She hadn’t heard Alex’s voice.
And then she’d realised why.
Even from across the courtyard, Quinn had been able to see the red bloom blossoming on Alex’s back.
Luca hadn’t noticed Quinn’s approach because he was grappling with his lunatic mother, who’d somehow climbed onto the battlements. Something was flashing in her hand as she ranted at her son and it’d taken Quinn a few moments to realise it was the sun reflecting off a blade.
Even as she’d watched, the crazy old woman had backed further along the low, wide wall, and Luca had climbed up after her.Stai attento, Mamma!
Be careful!
The villa was a mountaintop fortress, designed to keep the owners safe from invading Saracen hordes. Perched atop a crag, three sides of the villa held commanding views of the countryside. The fourth rose seamlessly from a sheer cliff that dropped hundreds of feet to the rocks below.
Luca had suddenly seen Quinn. ‘She’s going to fall!’ he’d shouted. ‘Help me!’
He’d lunged towards his mother, knocking the knife from her hand. It’d clattered onto the flagstones and skittered across the courtyard, coming to rest at Quinn’s feet.
Red with Alex’s blood.
Luca had managed to get one arm around Elena, but she was fighting him, spittle flecking her lips.
He’d held out his free hand to Quinn. ‘Please! Help me get her down!’
So Quinn had run towards them.
And pushed.
