“I thought you were dead,” she said as they moved through the cold water.
“Of course I’m not dead.” He forced a smile. “I’d never do that to you.”
When they reached the boat, Jake tried to flip it back over, but was too weak, so he grabbed on and used it as a float. He tucked Liz up against his chest, his other arm around her.
“I’m scared,” she said, her voice shaking with cold.
“Don’t be scared. I’m here. I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”
She was silent for a moment. “Promise …”
“Promise. I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” Then he repeated it, and repeated it again, and again, and again.
He didn’t even hear the other boat approach, two fishermen who had seen the crash from a distance and had come to help.
Exposure kept them in the hospital, Jake for a day and Liz for two. By the time she got home, he was gone.
The day he’d come home from the hospital, Jake had found his father in the barn. He knew this moment was coming. He might have been able to avoid it for a little longer, but in reality he couldn’t do that. He had made his decision and needed to act now. His father looked up at him, then back at whatever it was he was working on without saying a word. Jake wished his father would just yell at him, show some kind of reaction, but ever since the accident, his father hadn’t even spoken to him.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said because he could suddenly think of nothing better to say. He took a step closer to the bench. “It was my fault.”
A grunt.
When Jake didn’t say anything else, his father finally set down the wrench he was holding and looked at his stepson. “What are you expecting from me?” he asked. “Forgiveness? You’re going to have to wait a hell of a long time.”
“No,” Jake said. “I don’t expect that. I … I just came to say …”
“What? That you didn’t mean to almost kill my daughter? That you didn’t mean to kill …” He turned back to the bench. “Just leave me alone. Just go.”
Jake didn’t move. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m going.”
“Good.”
“No. I mean I’m leaving.”
His father looked at him again, but said nothing.
“I’m not coming back.”
The stare continued, then a nod. “I think maybe that would be for the best. Have you told your mother?”
“I’m going to leave her a note.”
His father grimaced, but he didn’t argue the point.
“I’ll … I’ll call Liz in a week or so,” Jake said, “and explain it to her.”
“Explain what to her, Jake?” His father shook his head. “I think it’s better if you just leave her alone. You’ve already taken a brother from her, and nearly drowned her. I think it’s best if you let her live her own life now. She doesn’t need you.”
Jake left the barn without another word, and did exactly that.
Chapter 38
They decided to watch the hotel room in shifts, Mikhail going first. Petra, in the meantime, would pick up where they’d left off with the Russian immigrant community. She wanted to check something first, so she gave the cabbie the name of the street Wills’s office was on. There was the chance someone the Englishman had worked with might still be around. If so, Petra thought she might be able to isolate them and find out if he knew how to find Quinn or, even better, the Ghost.
But as the taxi drove by the building, she realized that she was out of luck.
“At the corner all right, ma’am?” her driver asked, the taxi already slowing.
“No,” Petra said. “I’ve changed my mind. Take me to Oxford Circus.”
The cab picked up speed. If the driver was at all curious about the change in direction, he didn’t look it.
Standing outside the entrance to Wills’s building were three uniformed police officers and a group of several men in well-cut suits, talking in a tight circle. Wills’s death had generated a strong response. And if Quinn was even close to being as smart as she thought he was, he wouldn’t be within ten blocks of the building.
Another dead end.
Her phone buzzed.
“Hello?” she said.
“Get back to the hotel,” Mikhail said.
“Why? What happened?”
“Someone’s in the room.”
Petra put her hand over the phone, then leaned toward the front of the cab. “Forget Oxford Circus,” she said. “Belgrave Road. The Silvain Hotel.”
Petra met Mikhail as she neared the elevators at the Silvain. “Two women. They’re in the room now,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
“There are only two ways out. The elevator or these stairs. I’ve been keeping tabs on both. I also did a walk-by five minutes ago and could hear voices inside.”
“No sign of Quinn?”
“None.”
Petra considered their options. “Let’s keep up the surveillance. We don’t make a move until Quinn shows up.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“He will.”
He looked at her, concern in his eyes. “Petra. Shelby still might not be Quinn.”
She frowned, then sighed. “All right. If he’s not here in a few hours, we’ll reassess.” She paused. “Let’s take a look at his floor again. Then I’ll relieve you for a while.”
Mikhail led her up the staircase. At the landing, he opened the door just wide enough to peek into the hall. Petra could feel him tense.
“What?” she asked.
“The door to the room is open a few inches,” he said.
“Do you think they’re gone?”
“We would have heard them or seen them,” Mikhail said, but he didn’t sound confident. “Stay here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Just walk by and check if I can see anything.”
She put a hand on his arm. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll go all the way to the other end, wait for a few minutes, then come back. I’ll just be somebody who’s staying on this floor.”
She released him. Mikhail opened the door wide enough to slip into the hallway. Petra caught the door before it closed all the way, and peered through the crack as he walked away from her. The door to the room was still partially open, like someone had gone through it but hadn’t made sure to close it.
Five feet.
Four.
Three.
Two.
All was quiet.
Mikhail neared the door. As he turned his head to take a quick look, it whipped open.
He jerked back in surprise as a tiny, dark-haired woman rushed out and rammed her head into his abdomen. He flew into the wall opposite the door and slipped to the floor.
The woman leaned over him, her fist drawn back ready to deliver another blow. Without a thought, Petra raced into the hallway, pointing her pistol at Mikhail’s attacker.
“Don’t touch him,” she said in English.
The woman froze.
“Take a step back.”
The woman did as Petra commanded. Only she didn’t stop with one. Three quick steps took her back inside her room.
Petra sprinted for the door, jamming her foot in the closing gap, then she tried to shove it inward with her shoulder. The door didn’t budge as the women worked against each other. Suddenly Mikhail was at Petra’s side, adding his weight to hers.
Combined they were too much, and the door began to inch inward. All at once the force on the other side disappeared, and the door swung open with a bang. The woman had given up trying to keep them out, and was sprinting across the room toward the window.
Petra rushed forward, gun first. “Don’t try it,” she said.