Page 72 of Beneath the Surface

They pulled into Blackridge just after nine and into her grandmother’s driveaway a few minutes later. Quinn was out of the truck before it fully stopped, running for the house.

Dax followed, his heart pounding, his hands aching to offer some form of comfort though he knew nothing he could offer would ever be enough.

Inside, Nathan met them with grim eyes. “She’s still holding on. Barely. But she’s waiting for Quinn.”

Quinn ran down the hall. Dax stayed back, giving them privacy.

But he could hear Quinn’s sobs. Could hear her begging her grandmother to stay.

And knew that tomorrow, everything would change.

Chapter 14

Quinn dropped to her knees beside the bed, reaching for her grandmother’s hand. Those thin fingers were cool to the touch, the skin papery and translucent, but they squeezed back with surprising strength.

“Gran.” Quinn’s voice broke. “I’m here. I’m so sorry I was gone so long.”

Her grandmother’s eyes fluttered open. Those gray-blue eyes were cloudy with pain and exhaustion, but they focused on Quinn’s face with unmistakable recognition.

“Quinny.” The nickname was barely a whisper. “You came back.”

“Of course I came back.” Quinn pressed her grandmother’s hand to her cheek, tears streaming freely. “I’ll always come back to you.”

“Clara?” Her grandmother’s breath rattled.

Quinn nodded quickly. “We found her. She’s safe. And she’s going to testify against Wheeler. We have everything we need now, Gran. Everything.”

Something shifted in her grandmother’s expression—relief, maybe, or release. Her eyes drifted closed again.

“Gran?” Panic spiked through Quinn’s chest.

“Still here.” A faint smile touched the corners of her grandmother’s mouth. “Just tired.”

“I know. I know you’re tired.” Quinn stroked her grandmother’s silver hair, the way Gran used to stroke hers when she was small and frightened. “You can rest now. You didit. You told me the truth. You helped me find the evidence. You can rest.”

“Not yet.” Her grandmother’s eyes opened again, sharper this time. “Need to...make sure you’re okay first.”

“I’m fine. I promise,” she said automatically.

“That detective.” Her grandmother’s gaze shifted toward the doorway where Dax stood just out of sight. “Bring him in.”

Quinn’s heart skipped. “Gran, you need to rest—”

“Bring him in, Quinn.” There was steel in that weak voice that refused to be ignored. “I want to meet the man who’s been protecting my granddaughter.”

Quinn glanced over her shoulder at the doorway. Dax stood in the hall, his face carefully neutral but his eyes worried. She gestured him forward.

He entered slowly, almost reluctantly, and stopped at the foot of the bed. “Ma’am.”

Quinn’s grandmother studied him with those sharp eyes, taking in everything—his height, his bearing, the protective way he positioned himself even now. The intensity of his gaze when he looked at Quinn.

“You’re the one,” she said finally.

Dax blinked. “Ma’am?”

“The one protecting my granddaughter. Fighting for justice for my son.” Her grandmother’s voice was stronger now, fueled by something Quinn recognized—the last reserves of a woman who’d spent her life fighting. “Are you doing it because it’s your job? Or because of her?”

Quinn felt her face heat. “Gran—”