Mystery Child by Shirlee McCoy

Author:Shirlee McCoy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-06-11T07:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

The body wasn’t Tabitha’s.

That was what Quinn had wanted to know, and Sheriff Cameron Lock was quick to assure her that the deceased was a middle-aged man. Probably a drifter who’d had too much to drink and fallen in the lake. An autopsy had been scheduled, but as far the sheriff was concerned, there was no connection between the dead man and Tabitha.

Good. Great.

Quinn was happy to hear it. The problem was, Tabitha was still missing, and Quinn was sitting in an SUV waiting for the police to finish collecting evidence in her apartment.

DNA evidence. Fingerprints. Photos. They’d called in the state crime lab to oversee things. They were being cautious and careful. Which was exactly what Quinn wanted, but she also wanted to be done. Normally, Quinn thought of herself as a patient person. Right then, she felt anything but able to wait things out.

She had to find Tabitha.

Had to.

And sitting in the SUV wasn’t going to help her do that.

It also wasn’t going to help her explain who’d broken into her apartment, whose blood was on her floor, if that person was still alive.

Quinn had a feeling that her sister was the answer to the first question. She hoped she wasn’t the answer to the second. As far as the third went, Malone kept assuring her that there was every chance, every hope that her sister was still alive.

She wasn’t even sure she knew how to hope anymore.

She’d tried. She prayed, she read her Bible, she offered her petitions up to God. In the end, she felt as empty as she had the day Cory had told her he was done with treatment, that all he wanted was a few more months of peace and happiness.

She pushed away the thought.

That situation had been different.

This one couldn’t be nearly as hopeless. She couldn’t be nearly as helpless as she’d felt then. She didn’t have to sit around waiting for other people to offer her hope. She could go out and find reasons to hope herself.

She shifted in her seat, eyeing the facade of the brownstone that housed her apartment. She’d loved the place the minute she’d seen it. The two bedroom, one bath space above a bakery had been the perfect place for a newly widowed woman. There’d been hardwood and old plaster walls. Pretty medallion ceilings in the living area and an oversize 1920s stove in the kitchen. More than anywhere she’d ever lived, it had felt like home.

The day she’d moved in, she’d cried thinking about Cory, about what she’d thought they’d have together—the lifetime they’d planned. She’d cried, and then she’d unpacked and she’d started her new life, because that had been the only thing that made sense for her to do. She’d always been a person of action. She’d always done what needed to be done to achieve her dreams and accomplish her goals.

So, why was she sitting there like a lump while other people solved her problems?

“Enough,” she muttered, opening the door and stepping out into the cold night air.

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