Attack.
“ This ,” Jane gave the paper an angry shake, “says the police found a T-shirt that belongs to Quinn wrapped around the bat from the construction site.”
Lara took the paper and sank down onto the sofa to read. “That can’t be right,” she murmured.
Jane whirled toward Kylie, dark eyes flashing. “Did you know about this?”
Kylie couldn’t respond as her thought process arrived at the jarring realization of what this would do to Quinn. He already knew about the shirt, but everyone else knowing—and jumping to the conclusion that he was a monster—would devastate him. She needed to get to him, needed to make sure he was okay.
Realizing that Jane waited for an answer, Kylie nodded. “Yes, I knew.”
“But this can’t be right,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The story must be wrong.”
“It’s not wrong, Mom,” Jane said without looking away from Kylie. “Kylie has the details. She just didn’t bother to share them with us.” She folded her arms and cocked her head. “As usual.”
Attitude. Perfect. “They’re running tests on the shirt,” Kylie said. “I’m sure they’ll clear Quinn.”
“But the damage is done,” Jane replied. “He’s already been destroyed in the press. Once again, this family is being dragged through the mud because of poor, pitiful you.”
“Janie!”
Ignoring the shock in her stepmother’s voice and the bitter anger in her sister’s, Kylie crossed to the phone and picked it up. When her hand trembled—damn it—she turned her back to the other two women and started dialing Quinn.
Everything would be fine. All she had to do was talk to him, assure him that nothing had changed, that an old gym shirt didn’t make her think for a second that he’d done anything to her. He’d be fine. They’d be fine together.
“I’ve already tried that,” Jane said. “He’s not answering at home, work or his cell.”
Kylie replaced the phone in its cradle. “Then I’ll go over there.”
“The media’s camped out in front of his house,” Jane said. “And he’s not answering the door. I tried that, too.”
Kylie nodded. No problem. She had a key to his house. “I’ll give it a shot anyway.”
“And you think he’ll open the door to you instead of me because . . .”
“I don’t know,” Kylie said, fighting for an even tone. “Maybe he’s no longer in the shower?”
“You think I didn’t try hard enough, is that it? You think you’re the only one he talks to? Who do you think he talked to while you were on the other side of the country pretending none of us existed?”
“Janie—”
“This isn’t helping Quinn,” Kylie said to Jane, then looked at her stepmother and gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to him. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Lara nodded, tears glittering in her eyes. “I want to come with you, but maybe it’s best if you . . .”
Kylie grasped Lara’s hand, then decided that wasn’t enough and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll have him call you.”
17
CHASE STOOD NEXT TO THE EXPLORER PARKED AT the edge of the site of the future McKays’ Tennis Center, his eyes narrowed against the morning sun. The bustling activity of construction workers had been replaced with the quiet, careful work of a small forensics team combing two acres of dirt for ten-year-old evidence.
Sylvia Jensen, in jeans and an untucked, dirt-smudged, white T-shirt, waved from several yards away and started toward him. Chase waited for her, knowing better than to tread on the land that had been sectioned off by twine to organize the search. There wasn’t much his feet could disturb after construction crews had already worked over the land, knocking down trees and leveling the minor hills and valleys, but he still respected the rules of forensics.
Sylvia, large hoop earrings swinging and sunglasses hooked in the collar of her shirt, stepped over a puddle to join him. As always, he was struck by the
“ This ,” Jane gave the paper an angry shake, “says the police found a T-shirt that belongs to Quinn wrapped around the bat from the construction site.”
Lara took the paper and sank down onto the sofa to read. “That can’t be right,” she murmured.
Jane whirled toward Kylie, dark eyes flashing. “Did you know about this?”
Kylie couldn’t respond as her thought process arrived at the jarring realization of what this would do to Quinn. He already knew about the shirt, but everyone else knowing—and jumping to the conclusion that he was a monster—would devastate him. She needed to get to him, needed to make sure he was okay.
Realizing that Jane waited for an answer, Kylie nodded. “Yes, I knew.”
“But this can’t be right,” Lara said, shaking her head. “The story must be wrong.”
“It’s not wrong, Mom,” Jane said without looking away from Kylie. “Kylie has the details. She just didn’t bother to share them with us.” She folded her arms and cocked her head. “As usual.”
Attitude. Perfect. “They’re running tests on the shirt,” Kylie said. “I’m sure they’ll clear Quinn.”
“But the damage is done,” Jane replied. “He’s already been destroyed in the press. Once again, this family is being dragged through the mud because of poor, pitiful you.”
“Janie!”
Ignoring the shock in her stepmother’s voice and the bitter anger in her sister’s, Kylie crossed to the phone and picked it up. When her hand trembled—damn it—she turned her back to the other two women and started dialing Quinn.
Everything would be fine. All she had to do was talk to him, assure him that nothing had changed, that an old gym shirt didn’t make her think for a second that he’d done anything to her. He’d be fine. They’d be fine together.
“I’ve already tried that,” Jane said. “He’s not answering at home, work or his cell.”
Kylie replaced the phone in its cradle. “Then I’ll go over there.”
“The media’s camped out in front of his house,” Jane said. “And he’s not answering the door. I tried that, too.”
Kylie nodded. No problem. She had a key to his house. “I’ll give it a shot anyway.”
“And you think he’ll open the door to you instead of me because . . .”
“I don’t know,” Kylie said, fighting for an even tone. “Maybe he’s no longer in the shower?”
“You think I didn’t try hard enough, is that it? You think you’re the only one he talks to? Who do you think he talked to while you were on the other side of the country pretending none of us existed?”
“Janie—”
“This isn’t helping Quinn,” Kylie said to Jane, then looked at her stepmother and gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll let you know as soon as I talk to him. I’m sure he’s fine.”
Lara nodded, tears glittering in her eyes. “I want to come with you, but maybe it’s best if you . . .”
Kylie grasped Lara’s hand, then decided that wasn’t enough and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry. I’ll have him call you.”
17
CHASE STOOD NEXT TO THE EXPLORER PARKED AT the edge of the site of the future McKays’ Tennis Center, his eyes narrowed against the morning sun. The bustling activity of construction workers had been replaced with the quiet, careful work of a small forensics team combing two acres of dirt for ten-year-old evidence.
Sylvia Jensen, in jeans and an untucked, dirt-smudged, white T-shirt, waved from several yards away and started toward him. Chase waited for her, knowing better than to tread on the land that had been sectioned off by twine to organize the search. There wasn’t much his feet could disturb after construction crews had already worked over the land, knocking down trees and leveling the minor hills and valleys, but he still respected the rules of forensics.
Sylvia, large hoop earrings swinging and sunglasses hooked in the collar of her shirt, stepped over a puddle to join him. As always, he was struck by the
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