Page 69 of Beneath the Surface

“Of course he did.” Quinn’s voice was soft, introspective. “Because that’s what he did. Helped people. Protected them. Even when it put him in danger.”

“If we can find her, get her to testify—”

“We need to find her first.” Quinn was already moving, grabbing her laptop. “Let me see what I can dig up.”

They spent the next few hours working. Quinn searching databases, cross-referencing names. Dax reviewing Barrett’s notes, looking for clues about where he might have sent Clara.

They worked side by side at the dining table, but the easy partnership from before was gone. Now there was tension. Awareness. Every accidental brush of hands felt electric. Every shared glance carried weight.

Around six in the morning, Carson called back. “Got her. Maria Santos, Spokane, Washington. Housekeeper at the Riverside Hotel. Credit history shows an apartment lease starting eleven years ago. Right after she disappeared from Blackridge.”

“Maria Santos?” Quinn looked up from her computer.

“Probably an alias Barrett set up for her.” Dax grabbed a pen and started taking notes. “Address?”

Carson rattled it off. “You want backup?”

“Not yet. Let me verify it’s her first. If Wheeler gets wind we’re looking for witnesses, he might make a move.”

After hanging up, Dax found Quinn already researching Spokane. “It’s a five-hour drive.”

“We should go today.” Quinn’s voice was brisk. Professional. “Talk to her before Wheeler realizes she exists.”

“What about your grandmother?”

“Nathan’s here. The FBI agents are watching the house.” Quinn closed her laptop with a sharp snap. “And Gran would want me to do this. To finish what Dad started.”

How could he argue with that? “Okay. We leave in an hour.”

They prepared in tense silence. Quinn showered and changed while Dax coordinated with Nathan and the FBI. When she emerged, dressed in jeans and a forest-green sweater that made her eyes look almost emerald, Dax had to force himself to look away.

The drive to Spokane started quiet. Quinn stared out the window, her arms crossed. Dax kept checking mirrors, looking for tails. Old habits.

After an hour of silence, Quinn spoke. “About last night—”

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me finish.” Her voice was firm. “I meant what I said. I can’t keep doing this push-pull thing with you.”

Dax’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I know.”

“Can I ask you something?” She turned to face him. “Yesterday, when we kissed—was that real? Or was it just...circumstances? Proximity and stress making us do something stupid?”

A muscle in Dax’s jaw flexed and a pit began to open in his stomach. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I need to know if I’m making a complete fool of myself here.” Quinn’s voice cracked. “Because I feel this pull toward you. This attraction. And I thought—I hoped—you felt it too. But then you pull away, and I don’t know if you were just caught up in the moment or if I’m reading everything wrong.”

The vulnerability in her voice made Dax’s chest ache. He wanted to tell her yes, the kiss was real. That he wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in years. That she wasn’t making a fool of herself. But admitting that meant admitting he cared. And everyone he’d cared about had ended up hurt or dead. Saying it out loud would make it real. Make it something he could lose.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he said finally. “I don’t know how to be what you need.”

“I’m not asking you to be anything.” Quinn’s voice was thick with frustration, and she began talking with her hands. “I’m just asking if the kiss meant something to you. If you feel this too. Because if you don’t—if it was just a moment and I’m reading too much into it—tell me now so I can stop embarrassing myself.”

Her hands slapped her thighs with finality, and she turned back to the window. Didn’t speak to him for the next three hours.

They reached Spokane around noon. Clara Mendez’s apartment was in a modest complex on the east side. Small but well-maintained.

“How do we approach this?” Quinn asked as they parked. First words she’d spoken in hours. “We can’t just knock and say ‘Hi, are you the woman in hiding?’”