Page 82 of Beneath the Surface

She paused to look at him, eyes wide. “No. Stay. Please.” She didn’t think she could do this part alone.

He studied her for a moment before nodding. She turned back to the laptop and clicked on the file.

Her father’s face filled the screen.

Quinn’s breath stopped.

David looked tired but determined, his dark hair mussed, sitting in what looked like a hotel room. The date stamp said three days before he died.

“Hi, Quinn.” His voice was exactly as she remembered—warm, strong, full of love. Almost as if he were right there in the room with them. “If you’re watching this, then I’m gone. And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’m not there to help you through this. To walk you through what comes next.”

Tears poured down Quinn’s face, but she couldn’t look away.

“I want you to know that everything I did, I did to make the world safer for you. To make Blackridge a place where people like Wheeler can’t hurt the innocent. Can’t profit off suffering. Can’t kill good people and get away with it.”

He leaned forward, his eyes, the same shade of amber as Quinn’s, intense even through the screen.

“I know I’m asking a lot of you. Asking you to finish something I started. Asking you to put yourself in danger. And if you’re watching this, you’ve already done so much. You’ve foundthe evidence. You’ve talked to the witnesses. You’ve pieced together the truth.”

Quinn sobbed. Dax’s strong arm came around her shoulders, but she barely felt it.

“I’m so proud of you, Quinn. Prouder than I can ever express. You’re brave and brilliant and stubborn. Just like your grandmother. Just like me.” He smiled, that crooked smile she remembered so well. “We’re a family of fighters. And you’re the best of us.”

“Dad,” Quinn whispered to the screen. She wished in that moment that she could hug him one last time. She missed him beyond words, and seeing him now, hearing his voice as if he were still alive and just a phone call away, was its own kind of torture.

“Use this evidence. Take it to the DA. Make them listen. Make them act. Wheeler has gotten away with this for too long. He’s hurt too many people. Killed too many people. It has to end.”

His expression grew serious, grave.

“But Quinn—and this is important—don’t sacrifice yourself for this. Don’t let the quest for justice consume you the way it consumed me. I chose this fight knowing the risks. You didn’t choose it. It was thrust on you. And if it ever gets to be too much, if you ever need to walk away...do it. Live your life. Be happy. Don’t let Wheeler take that from you too.”

Quinn shook her head. “I can’t walk away. Not now.”

“I love you, baby girl. More than anything in this world. And wherever I am now, I’ll be watching over you. Protecting you. Proud of you.”

He reached toward the camera, as if he could touch her through the screen.

“Be brave, Quinn. Be smart. Be safe. And know that you’re loved. Always loved.”

The screen went black.

Quinn stared at it, her whole body shaking with sobs.

Then she turned and buried her face in Dax’s chest and let herself fall apart.

He held her while she cried for her father, for Leesa, for everyone Wheeler had destroyed. Held her while she grieved for the childhood she’d lost when her father died, for the years she’d spent not knowing the truth, for the grandmother who was slipping away even now.

“I can’t do this,” she gasped between sobs. “It’s too much. It’s all too much.”

“Yes, you can.” Dax’s voice was rough with his own unshed tears. “You’re the strongest person I know, Quinn. You can do this.” Then softer, he said, “I can’t do this alone.”

“He’s gone. They’re all gone. And Gran—” She couldn’t finish.

“I know. I know it hurts. But you’re not alone. You have me. You have Nathan. You have an entire folder of witnesses who trusted your father to tell their stories. You have everything you need to end this.”

Quinn pulled back, wiping at her face with shaking hands. “Did you hear what he said? About not sacrificing myself? About walking away?”

He looked into her eyes, and she knew he understood. “Yeah.”