Page 65 of Beneath the Surface

“That went well,” he said.

“Yes. It did.” Quinn pressed the down button. Stared at the numbers above the elevator.

“Quinn, can we talk about—”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Detective.” The elevator dinged. The doors opened. “You made your position clear last night. I’m respecting that. We work together to bring down Wheeler. That’s it.”

She stepped into the elevator. Dax followed, the space suddenly feeling too small. Too close.

Quinn moved to the far corner. Crossed her arms. Stared at the floor numbers as they descended.

Dax wanted to say something. Anything to break through the wall of ice she’d built between them. But what could he say? That he was sorry? That he was scared? She already knew that.

The elevator reached the ground floor. Quinn was out before the doors fully opened, her strides quick and purposeful.

“I’m going home to spend time with Gran,” she said over her shoulder. “You don’t need to follow me. FBI agents are still on-site.”

“Quinn, wait—”

She kept walking. Didn’t look back.

Dax stood in the courthouse lobby, watching her go. Again.

He was losing her. Could feel it happening. The distance growing with every cold interaction. Every professional deflection.

And he had no one to blame but himself.

***

Back at her grandmother’s house, the tension was thick enough to cut.

Dax worked in the living room, reviewing case files. Quinn stayed in her grandmother’s room, reading aloud, talking quietly. Only emerging for coffee or food.

When they had to interact, it was brief. Professional.

“I’m making dinner. Do you want some?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“The FBI agents are switching shifts at eight.”

“Got it.”

“My grandmother wants to talk to you.”

That stopped Dax cold. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Quinn’s expression was unreadable. “She’s insisting.”

Dax’s legs felt oddly like jello as he left the room. He found Quinn’s grandmother awake and alert, propped up on pillows. She looked frailer than yesterday, her skin almost translucent. But her eyes were sharp.

His gaze tracked to Nathan, who sat in a chair in the corner, quietly monitoring her vitals while trying to remain invisible.

So he was going to have a witness to his humiliation. Great.

Gran looked up when he rapped his knuckles lightly on the doorframe. “Sit down, Detective.” She gestured to the chair beside the bed with a twitch of frail fingers.

Dax sat. “How are you feeling, ma’am?”