Page 76 of Beneath the Surface

Nathan crossed to the table, his expression shifting to something serious as he read over her shoulder.

“Portland,” Dax said, showing him the key. “Second safe deposit box. Box number 2847. Her father documented everything. Including video testimony from whistleblowers who were too afraid to come forward.”

Nathan whistled low. “Video testimony? That could seal the case.”

“We need to get it,” Quinn said immediately.

“Portland’s five hours away,” Dax pointed out. “Round trip, we’re looking at a full day, minimum.”

Quinn looked toward the hallway, toward her grandmother’s room. “I can’t leave Gran.”

“I’ll stay with her,” Nathan said firmly. “You two go get that evidence. Your grandma would want you to finish this.”

“But what if—” Quinn couldn’t say it. What if her grandmother died while she was gone?

Nathan’s expression softened. “She’s stable right now. Her breathing’s better than it was a few hours ago. And Quinn...she waited this long to tell you the truth. She’ll wait a little longer to make sure you finish the job.”

Quinn wasn’t so sure. But the letter in her hand, her father’s words.Make him pay, Quinn. For all of us.

She knew from the bottom of her heart that she had to finish this. Had to get that video. Had to see this through.

“Okay,” she said finally. “We’ll go tomorrow morning. First thing.”

***

That night, Quinn dozed fitfully in the chair beside her grandmother’s bed. Every time Gran’s breathing changed, Quinn jolted awake, terrified. But each time, her grandmother was still there. Still breathing. Still hanging on.

Dax had taken the other chair, refusing to leave even though Quinn had insisted he should get real sleep in an actual bed.

“I’m not leaving you,” he’d said simply. And that was that.

Somewhere around three in the morning, Quinn woke to find Dax watching her in the dim light from the hallway.

“Can’t sleep?” she whispered.

“Just making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” A lie, but what else could she say?

Dax reached across the space between their chairs, his hand finding hers. Their fingers laced together, and Quinn held on like he was the only solid thing in a world that kept shifting under her feet.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For staying. For helping. For...everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do.” Quinn squeezed his hand. “You could have walked away a dozen times. But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.” Dax’s thumb stroked over her knuckles. “Even if I wanted to—and I don’t—I couldn’t walk away from you, Quinn.”

Something warm unfurled in her chest. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

She wanted to say more. Wanted to ask what this was between them, what it meant, what happened after they caught Wheeler and the case was over. But her grandmother’s breathing hitched, and both of them froze, listening.

After a minute, it steadied again.

Quinn exhaled slowly.

“Try to sleep,” Dax said quietly. “I’ll keep watch.”