Page 89 of The Unforgiven
“I need to break into a tomb.”
“You’re joking. Have you stumbled upon some archeological mystery in our boring old NOLA?”
“NOLA?”
“New Orleans, Louisiana. It’s an abbreviation,” Brett explained patiently. “Anyway, what have you discovered?”
“I’ll fill you in later. Will you help me?”
“Hell yeah! Whose tomb?”
“It’s the tomb of Sybil Besson’s family. I believe she was the last of that line, so the tomb wouldn’t have been opened since her parents were interred.”
“Why would you want to break in there?” Brett asked. He sounded distinctly less enthusiastic than before, his voice now tinged with doubt and suspicion.
“I believe I will find evidence of a crime that has gone unpunished for over one hundred and fifty years.”
“And how would you know about a crime that took place that long ago?”
“I can’t really explain, but it’s sort of an extrasensory ability.”
“Like a sixth sense?” Brett sounded wary, but Quinn was too emotionally overwrought to explain. Now that she knew what she had to do, she didn’t want to waste another minute.
“Yes, something like that.”
“You are wonderfully weird, you know that?”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. Oh, and bring a shovel.”
“That’s the first time anyone has asked me to bring a shovel, but hopefully not the last.” Brett chuckled. “Have you told Dad about this little unlawful expedition?”
“No, I haven’t told anyone. I want to see if I’m right first. If I’m not, then we’ll just clear off and pretend it never happened.”
“Sounds like a great plan. I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
FORTY-SIX
Quinn dressed in a pair of leggings, a T-shirt, and trainers. This could be dirty work, and she had no desire to soil her good clothes. Hopefully, no Good Samaritan would report two people breaking into a tomb in the middle of the day. Disturbing someone’s final resting place was a crime, even if they did nothing to desecrate the actual remains.
Quinn smiled. It was nice to have a brother willing to come on short notice bearing a shovel. That was what she’d been missing all her life—an accomplice. Of course, Gabe would have been there with bells on had this been England, but he was safely in London, doing the school run and marking end-of-term papers. Quinn fired off a quick text to tell him she missed him and hoped to see him in a few days. Once she found Madeline’s remains, there would be no reason to stay in New Orleans any longer. She would have everything she needed for the program, and had spent sufficient time with her new family to have established a lasting bond. It was time to go home. Quinn grabbed her bag, phone, and key card and headed out.
Brett was waiting for her in the lobby. His face lit up with anticipation when she came toward him. “So, why are we doing this?” he asked as he kissed her cheek and followed her outside. “Come on. Tell me the whole story. Since I’m about to commit a crime at your behest, I’d at least like to know why I’m doing it and if it’s worth risking my unblemished reputation and enviable future for. I considered robbing a bank when Dad cut off my allowance in seventh grade, but I never expected to resort to grave robbery. Even I have standards.”
Quinn smiled at him. He seemed very pleased with his own wit and his exuberance was contagious. She really wished she could simply tell him the truth, but she wasn’t ready to share her secret with him. He was too young to understand and would probably label her a freak and a fraud, as many people would once they found out.
“I will tell you everything if I find what I’m looking for. How about that?” she replied.
“Will this assignment be on a need-to-know basis, like in the army?” Brett joked.
“Exactly. This way you wouldn’t be able to reveal too much if tortured for information.”
“The only person likely to torture me is Dad. He’ll be furious if we get arrested.”
“And if we don’t?” Quinn asked, amused by Brett’s choice of words.
“Then he’ll want to know all the details and complain about not being invited along.”
