Page 93 of Beneath the Surface

“It’s not the same. I need to be out there, Dax. I need to—”

“You need to stay alive.” His voice was hard, that cop tone she’d heard when they first met. “Wheeler just made it clear on national television that he’s coming after you. You think I’m going to let you walk around Blackridge like a target?”

“You can’t keep me locked up forever.”

“Watch me.”

The two words landed like a slap. Quinn closed her eyes, remembering the first time he’d said that to her—dismissed her like an annoying civilian who didn’t know her place.

They’d come so far since then. Or had they?

The line went quiet for a moment. Then Dax sighed, his voice softening. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard. But please, Quinn. Just stay there. Stay safe. For me.”

Quinn heard the fear underneath the commanding tone. The terror of losing someone else he loved.

“Okay,” she said softly. “But Dax...you need to be careful too. If Wheeler’s threatening me, he might—”

“I can take care of myself. It’s you I’m worried about.”

She scraped her teeth across her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise. I’ll be home tomorrow after my shift. Bring some groceries, check the perimeter.”

“Okay.”

There was a long pause, and then, “I love you.”

The smile that spread across her face couldn’t be helped. “I love you too.”

After they hung up, Quinn sat in the silent cabin and tried not to feel like she was suffocating.

The TV droned on—more coverage of Wheeler’s arrest, legal analysts debating the strength of the case, Wheeler’s lawyer already doing damage control on the evening news.

Quinn turned it off.

The silence was worse.

She’d been alone before. Had lived alone for years in Seattle. But this felt different. This wasn’t solitude by choice. This was forced isolation. Again. Protective custody in everything but name.

And she hated it.

Hated feeling helpless. Hated being hidden away while Wheeler walked free and made threats. Hated that Dax was out there, potentially in danger, while she sat here doing nothing.

Her father hadn’t hidden. Had kept investigating, kept fighting, even when it put him at risk.

Of course, her father had died for it.

Quinn shook her head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts. She moved to the laptop Dax had left her and opened her manuscript—the book about her father’s investigation, about Wheeler’s crimes, about everything she’d uncovered.

Work. She could focus on work.

But even as she tried to write, she couldn’t shake the image of Wheeler’s smile on that screen.

Or the veiled threat in his words.I hope Ms. Barrett doesn’t meet the same unfortunate fate her father did.

She was a sitting duck out here. Safe, maybe. But also alone. Isolated. Vulnerable in a different way.

And somewhere out there, James Wheeler was planning his next move.