Page 38 of Beneath the Surface

Quinn froze, her hand on the deadbolt, her heart lurching into her throat. The metal was cold under her palm.

“I wasn’t—” The lie died on her lips.

“Yes, you were.” He sat up, turning to face her, his silhouette backlit by the window. His expression was hard, those dark eyes catching what little light there was. “You were going to take my truck and go looking for Clara Mendez.”

“How did you—” But of course he knew. He was a detective. And he’d probably been awake the whole time, just waiting to see what she’d do.

“Because that’s what I’d do.” Dax stood, moving toward her with deliberate steps. “I knew you wouldn’t stay put. Knew you’d try something like this.”

“Then why did you pretend to be asleep?”

“To see if you’d actually go through with it.” He stopped in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “Now I know. You’re willing to risk your life because you can’t let go.”

“My father—”

“Is dead. And you’ll be dead too if you keep this up.” His voice was harsh, but his eyes…were something else. Fear. Genuine fear. “Do you have any idea what Wheeler would do if he found you? If you went snooping around, asking questions, making yourself visible?”

“I have to try—”

“No. You have to stay alive.” Dax took the keys from her hand. “That’s your only job right now. Stay alive. Everything else is secondary.”

Quinn blinked back tears of frustration. “I can’t just do nothing.”

“Then help me here. Research. Analysis. Background checks. All the things you’re good at that don’t require you leaving this cabin.” His voice softened slightly. “I know you want justice. I want it too. But justice doesn’t matter if you’re dead.”

Quinn looked at the door, her hand still on the deadbolt. At freedom. At the chance to actually do something instead of hiding in these woods while Wheeler walked free.

Then she looked back at Dax. At his exhausted face—the dark circles under his eyes, the lines of tension bracketing his mouth. At the concern he was trying to hide behind anger, visible in the way his jaw worked, the way his hands curled and uncurled at his sides.

He cared. Actually cared. Not just about the case, but about her.

Her shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of her. “Okay,” she whispered, her hand falling from the lock.

“Okay?” His eyebrows rose, suspicion clear in his voice.

“I’ll stay. I’ll help from here.” Quinn met his eyes, her chin lifting even as she surrendered. “But I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” He crossed his arms, defensive, wary.

“Promise you’ll actually investigate. That you won’t just park me here and forget about the case. That you’ll follow every lead, including Clara Mendez.” She swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Promise me my father’s death will matter.”

Dax held her gaze for a long moment, those dark eyes searching hers. Then he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I promise. I’ll find the truth. All of it.” He stepped back, givingher space, his hand gesturing toward the bedroom. “Now go to bed. Real sleep this time.”

Quinn nodded, her fingers fumbling as she set the keys back on the hook—they clinked softly against the wood. She turned back toward the bedroom, her steps slow, heavy with exhaustion and defeat.

“And Barrett?”

She stopped, looking back over her shoulder. He was silhouetted against the kitchen window, arms still crossed, but his posture had softened.

“Next time you try to sneak out, I really will arrest you.” But there was no heat in his voice. Almost...warmth.

Despite everything, Quinn felt the corner of her mouth twitch. Almost a smile. “Noted.”

She closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, her eyes falling shut, her heart pounding against her ribs. Her legs felt shaky, adrenaline draining away and leaving her hollow.

That had been close. Too close.

But at least now Dax knew she wouldn’t just sit quietly. Knew she was going to push and challenge and do everything she could to help.