followed him into the room. “Pour me a cup, too.”
“What brings you by?” Quinn handed his younger brother a mug full of hot, strong coffee, then filled a cup for himself.
“Heard about the jumper and came running. Couldn’t see you going through this without me, especially with the trouble we’ve had lately. At first I thought it was connected to that.”
“Nope. David James just lost it. His supervisor called him on being late for work. That sent the man over the edge. He flew at Collins, hit him a few times, then escaped up to the roof, where he threatened to jump.”
“Is Collins okay?”
“Yeah, just a cut lip and probably a black eye.” Quinn lifted his mug to take a sip and noticed his hand shaking. He placed the mug on his desk before he spilled his coffee. “How does she do it?”
“Who? What?”
“Becca. Negotiating.” Quinn clasped his hands together to still their trembling, recognizing the reaction as delayed shock. When he had thought David would jump, all he could think of was the man’s two little girls without their father. Thank You, God, for delivering David safely down. And thank You for sending Becca to help.
“Ah, now it’s just Becca.”
“Stop right there, little brother. After going through something like what happened on that rooftop together, it seems kinda ridiculous to call the woman Ms. Hilliard.”
Brendan lounged against the file cabinet. “She has her own methods of destressing. We all do.”
Quinn knew his brother was referring to people working in law enforcement. He’d been engaged to a woman who had been on the police force until—again his heart twisted with the remembrance of that day Maggie had died. So much for not going down memory lane.
“You’re the boss. Give yourself the rest of the day off. I think you deserve it.”
“So I can go over what happened on the rooftop until I go screaming down the street? No, thank you. I think I’ll stay and work.” This was one of his ways of dealing with stress. Finally, Quinn thought his hand was steady enough to pick up his mug and take a long drink of his much-needed coffee. “How’s Chloe? Have you two set a date yet?”
Brendan chuckled. “I get the picture. No more talking about you. Chloe and I are negotiating when. Definitely Chloe’s the one.”
“I’m glad, since you two are already engaged.”
“How about you? Seeing anyone?”
“Don’t have the time. The fire set me back some. Having to rebuild the shop and barn as well as do all the projects we’re committed to has taken a lot of my extra time.”
“I thought you finished the shop and barn a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yes, but…” Quinn let his sentence trail off into the silence. He and his brother knew the real reason he hadn’t dated. Except for the few times Brendan had tried to fix him up since Maggie’s death three years ago, he hadn’t gone out with anyone. Instead, he had thrown himself into his work and his carpentry.
“She would have wanted you to move on, Quinn.”
“I know. I am. Colleen has a friend at the paper she wants to introduce me to. I’m thinking about taking her up on her offer once she returns from Italy for her wedding.”
The second Quinn said that, however, an image of Becca up on the rooftop, totally focused on David, calm and in control, popped into his mind. There’s something about Becca Hilliard that—no, don’t go there. Her job is as dangerous as Maggie’s was, and Maggie’s job killed her.
TWO
Becca took the stairs up to the attic and opened the windows at each end of it to let the cool breeze blow through and the stale air escape out. She had a few minutes before Quinn showed up and she wanted to find her sister’s box of memorabilia to send to her. She’d been promising her for months, and if she didn’t do it now, she would probably forget for another month—especially since her younger sister had just called asking her to send it to her.
Amazed that she still didn’t have the time to do the things needed—after all, both her sister and brother no longer lived at home—Becca headed for the corner where Caitlin had kept her belongings. Her two siblings were gone, so why couldn’t she find enough time to do all that needed to be done?
“Because I have now decided to finish my college degree in psychology on top of trying to solve the rash of recent murders. What did I expect?” she muttered to herself as she dug through the boxes for the one Caitlin had described. Being married to her job didn’t allow a lot of extra time.
In the very back, perched on a rafter, she saw the black square box with her sister’s treasures. Becca stretched over the containers piled in her way. Just a few more inches. She leaned farther forward, lost her balance and started to fall. With quick reflexes, she managed to catch herself by putting her hand down on the rafter while her foot came down hard in the area between two beams. The unfinished part of the floor held for a second, then suddenly her foot plunged down through it, the jagged edges of the wood ripping through her capri pants and digging into her thigh. Pain shot through her.
She swung her leg that dangled from the ceiling in the third bedroom on the second floor, hoping to give herself some momentum to shove herself up out of the hole she was caught in. She couldn’t dislodge herself. She examined the area around her for something to use to drag herself out. Nothing. Frustrated, she slapped her hands on the two rafters, the only firm support around her, and pushed upward. Her leg, caught on something, wouldn’t budge. Again, then again, she attempted to free herself as the pain continued to radiate up her leg.
Finally, in exhaustion she sagged against the wooden beam. Sweat dripped off her face and coated her white shirt. She took a moment to regain her strength while she ran through different scenarios in her mind. The only thing she could come up with was to keep trying and hope eventually sheer force would dislodge her.
The ringing of her doorbell cut into the sound of her heavy breathing. Quinn Montgomery. Maybe her knight in shining armor had arrived—not that she believed in such a thing. She’d learned earlier to depend on only herself and her work with the police department had only confirmed that through the eight years she had been on the force. But she was a practical person and right now she needed help.
The chimes sounded again.
“Quinn! Help!” she yelled, hoping he heard with the windows open. “Help!”
“Becca…” She heard his wonderful, deep voice calling up to her through the window. “Where are you?”
“In the attic. I fell through the floor and can’t get out.”
“How do I get in? Do you have a spare key outside somewhere?”
The very thought appalled her. Why make it easy for a robber to get into her house? She’d be the butt of jokes at the police station for weeks. “No. My neighbor on the left has one.”
“Be right back.”
Even
