The Broken (Echoes from the Past Book 8) Read online

  Chapter 2

  “Delivery,” Quinn announced as she walked into Colin Scott’s office less than an hour later. He was behind his desk, entering data into the system. Colin looked up and smiled, but the smile did little to hide the sadness in his eyes or the unusual pallor of his skin. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes and his normally smooth cheeks were covered with dark blond stubble.

  “Colin, are you all right?” Quinn asked.

  “I’m fine. Thank you for asking. Hadn’t slept well, that’s all, and I had an early-morning postmortem, so had no time to shave,” he explained as he accepted the box from Quinn. “That’s very light,” he commented as he lifted the lid. “Where’s the rest?”

  “That’s all there is. According to Dr. Clegg of City Mortuary, this baby died of natural causes. The limbs must have been removed after death.”

  “I see. Well, leave it with me. I’ll see what I can find out. It’ll have to wait though. I’m a bit short-handed just now.”

  “Has Dr. Dhawan not returned from India?” Quinn asked. Sarita Dhawan, Colin’s trusted assistant, had gone to her brother’s wedding in Mumbai, but that had been several weeks ago.

  “Unfortunately, Sarita’s grandmother took ill the day after the wedding. She’s not expected to make a recovery. Sarita wanted to remain with her family for a little while longer. I have a temporary replacement, but he’s nowhere as competent as Dr. Dhawan.”

  “Handsome though,” Quinn replied as she spotted a dark-haired young man with a designer beard walk out of the lab. He was tall and lean with startling blue eyes beneath sinfully long lashes.

  “That he is, and charming. Just ask your brother.”

  “What does that mean?” Quinn asked carefully.

  “Nothing. Forget I said anything. I’m just tired. I’ll ring you as soon as I have anything to report.”

  “Colin, do you ever wish you’d chosen a different aspect of medicine?” Quinn asked, her gaze still glued to the tiny skull in the box.

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “I don’t think I could ever do what you do. How can you focus on life when you’re always in the midst of death?”

  “It’s all in how you look at it,” Colin replied with a shrug.

  “How do you look at it?” Quinn asked.

  “Working with living patients reminds you of how fragile and irrational human beings can be. Many people could avoid serious illnesses altogether, or hold them at bay for years, if they’d only live sensibly. You know—eat well, not smoke or drink in excess, go for a walk once in a while, do something to lower their stress level. Instead, people pretend they’ll live forever until their body reminds them, they won’t, and then they go to pieces and expect miracles from their health professionals, who’re supposed to reverse the effects of decades of boozing, overeating, and sitting on the sofa watching reality T.V. while puffing on a fag.”

  Quinn smiled. Colin, who was trim and fit, wouldn’t be caught dead sitting on the sofa with a fag hanging out of his mouth. He watched what he ate, ran three times a week, sometimes with Logan, and did yoga to destress. Quinn had heard him berate Logan once for eating a bag of crisps, to which Logan had responded with a rude gesture accompanied with a sweet smile.

  Colin shook his head and continued, “The dead, on the other hand, are very amiable. They lie quietly while you do your work, and then get wheeled off without uttering a word of complaint. They also remind you that every day is precious, and you should live your life to the fullest before it’s your turn on the slab.”

  “I see you’re feeling very cheerful this morning,” Quinn replied, a tad sarcastically.

  “Like I said, I’m not good company,” Colin replied, smiling apologetically. “Logan and I had a bit of a tiff last night. I’m still smarting.”

  “I hope everything is all right between you two.”

  “It will be. We just need some time to cool off.”

  Quinn didn’t ask any more intrusive questions. She had no wish to pry. Her brother’s love life was his own business. If he wanted to talk to her, she was always there, but Logan wasn’t one to come running when he was in a foul mood. That simply wasn’t his style. The only time he really needed to talk was when things got rough with Jude, but since Jude was still cooling his heels at a very posh rehabilitation facility, Logan wasn’t over worried. The facility had top-of-the-line security and vetted every person who came to visit the patients, checking their bags and pockets for contraband. As long as Jude was inside, he had no chance of getting his hands on any heroin, or even a leather belt, which he might use for erotic asphyxiation if he was in the mood for a wank. He wasn’t allowed so much as shoelaces, much less anything that could be wrapped around his neck, like the wire from his earbuds. All patients were issued with wireless headphones.

  Quinn made a mental note to ring Logan, said goodbye to Colin, and headed for the door. She was due to meet Jill at a bridal boutique in an hour and needed to grab something to eat before trying on her dress. Despite the melancholy that had dogged her since seeing the tiny remains for the first time, she was starving and had to eat before her blood sugar dropped and she became dizzy. Quinn found a Costa and ordered a large coffee and a breakfast sandwich. That would tie her over until after the fitting, and then maybe she could have lunch with Jill, if Nicola was all right with staying with Alex for an extra hour.

  Jill was already at the shop by the time Quinn arrived, standing like a statue while a seamstress with her mouth full of pins worked on the hem of her frock. The empire waist cleverly concealed Jill’s growing baby bump, and she looked truly radiant, except for the scowl on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked as she took a seat across from Jill.

  “Brian and I went at it hammer and tongs last night. This is supposed to be a happy time in my life, but it seems that everyone is on a mission to ruin my wedding.”

  “Who’s everyone?”

  “Oh, let’s see,” Jill said, holding up her hand and folding down the fingers one by one as she recited the list of offenders. “Well, there’s Brian’s mother, for starters. She’s not happy with the caterer and our choice of band. Brian’s dad has suggested shooting something for the main course.”

  Quinn let out a guffaw of laughter. “I never realized Brian’s dad was so fond of hunting.”

  “Neither did I, but there it is. Brian’s sister, whom I’ve met literally twice before we got engaged wants to bring some bloke she met on Tinder last week, and my brother is not sure he’s in the mood to wear a morning suit.”

  “And your mum?” Quinn asked. It wasn’t possible that the mother of the bride had nothing to say.

  “Mum’s been an angel, believe it or not, and she’s forbidden my dad to utter a word. They just want me to be happy. Oh, I do wish your parents were coming for the wedding.”

  “They’d love to be here for your big day, Jilly, but funds are tight, from what I understand. Retirement is a careful balancing act of one’s savings and living in Marbella is not cheap.”

  “No, I don’t imagine it is. Neither is having a wedding. I cannot believe the prices people charge for playing a few songs or putting together a dozen flower arrangements. Brian thinks we should ditch the band and have his cousin DJ our wedding.” Jill looked like she was about to cry. “And he doesn’t think there’s any need for exotic flowers. ‘They’ll just die,’ he said. I’ve always fancied having orchids and lilies as my centerpieces. Brian thinks we should cut corners and put the money we save toward buying a flat.”

  “Jill, every bride goes through this. It’s a rite of passage, of sorts. It’ll all work out in the end.”

  “Not every bride is five months pregnant. I’m weepy, hormonal, and bloated, and Brian’s mind-blowing male obtuseness is about to set me off like a bloody hand grenade.”

  “Jill, it’s Brian’s wedding too, and his finances. Surely, he has some say in how the money is spent. Perhaps you can compromise.”

  “On what?” Jill
demanded.

  “On the less important things. I wouldn’t be overjoyed if Gabe’s dad had offered to shoot the entrée, but maybe spending less on flowers is not a bad idea. Brian is right; they die, and orchids are quite expensive. Maybe you can have orchids in your bouquet and choose something less pricy for the tables. And having a DJ instead of a live band is not the end of the world. What would be the difference in price?”

  “About two thousand quid,” Jill admitted.

  “Brian is thinking about your future. You have a baby on the way. You’ll need a bigger place, and if you plan to continue to work, you’ll eventually need to consider the question of childcare. At least you’ll now have paid maternity leave,” Quinn pointed out. Having closed her clothing shop several months ago, Jill was back in the corporate world, where she’d get up to a year paid leave.

  “A silver lining if there ever was one,” Jill agreed, no longer scowling. “I’m beginning to understand why you decided to get married on a hilltop in a roofless tower. Brian and I should have just gone to the registry office and had a supper for our nearest and dearest afterward. But no, I wanted a church wedding with a reception to follow.”

  “Jill, hopefully, this will be your first and last wedding, and if it’s a church wedding you want, then a church wedding you should have. And the reception will be great fun as long as you allow yourself to relax and enjoy it. It will all come together; you’ll see.”

  “Thanks, Quinn. I know you’re right. I’m just a bit overemotional right now.”

  “Been there, done that, as Seth likes to say.”

  “Okay, we’re done here,” the seamstress said as she stuck in the last pin and got to her feet. “Are you ready for your fitting, Mrs. Russell?”

  “Yes.” Quinn sprang to her feet. She was eager to get the fitting over with. “Lunch after?” she asked Jill.

  “Sure, but it’ll have to be a quick one. I have a doctor’s appointment at two. I hope she’ll do a scan. I want to see this little one,” she said, patting her belly.

  “Do you know what it is yet?” Quinn asked.

  Jill grinned happily. “It’s a girl.”

  “Congratulations. I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Now, we just have to agree on a name,” Jill said with a comical expression. “I’ve suggested several beautiful names, but Brian has his own ideas.”

  “Such as?”

  “Don’t even get me started,” Jill replied and marched off to get changed.

  Chapter 3

  By the time Quinn got home, Gabe was back from work. He was in the kitchen, with Alex on his hip, crooning to Ed Sheeran’s The Shape of You, which was playing on speaker on his mobile, as he did a little dance. Alex was giggling like mad and swaying in time to the music. Quinn kissed her boys and set her bag on the worktop.

  “Was Alex all right when you got home?” Quinn asked.

  “Fine. Nicola was on the floor with him, building a tower. She’s a nice kid.”

  “And speaking of kids, where’s Emma?”

  “In her room. She said she was tired and needed a lie-down.”

  “Emma? A lie-down? Is she sickening for something, do you think?” Quinn asked.

  “No, she seemed fine. She wasn’t running a temperature. I think she was just upset.”

  “About what?”

  “She had a row with Maya. Is it wrong of me to say that I don’t care for that girl?” Gabe asked, making a face.

  “I’m not a big fan either. Maya is years ahead of Emma in her thinking. It’s like she’s six going on sixteen.”

  “She has an older brother and parents who are on the verge of divorce, from what Emma says. Her home life is very different from Emma’s,” Gabe replied. “I almost miss Aidan.”

  “So do I. Aidan had a smart mouth, but at least he didn’t make Emma feel bad. I think Maya is a bit of bully.”

  “I’m going to have a chat with Emma’s teacher when I bring her to school tomorrow,” Gabe said. “Ask her to keep an eye out for any signs of bullying.”

  “Yes, I think that’s a good idea. An impartial judge.”

  “If there’s reason for concern, we’ll talk to the head.”

  “I’ll try to talk to her after dinner. Maybe she’ll tell me more than she’s told you,” Quinn offered.

  “Yes. Emma likes girl talk. By the way, I hope you stopped by the shops. We have nothing to make for dinner,” Gabe said as he settled Alex in his highchair with a teething biscuit.

  “I’ll make some pasta,” Quinn replied airily.

  “Sounds good,” Gabe replied. “Cup of tea?”

  “Yes, please.” Quinn sat down at the table next to Alex and made a silly face at him.

  “How was your day? What’s this new case Rhys has you working on?” Gabe asked as he filled the electric kettle with water and set it to boil.

  “It’s a baby,” Quinn replied, desolation sweeping over her as she recalled the little skeleton.

  “And?”

  “An elderly couple found the remains in their garden. It looked like a recent crime, so the police pathologist was called in. He determined the remains are older than fifty years and that the child died a natural death.”

  “So, what’s Rhys’s interest in this?” Gabe asked. He took out Quinn’s favorite mug, a sweet gesture not lost on Quinn, and reached for the tea bags.

  Quinn sighed. “There’s definitely a story there. I just don’t know if I care to find out what it is. The child was buried with some care, which shows that it had been loved. It had been wrapped in a shawl, which was fastened with a brooch, and then covered with an oilcloth to protect the remains from the moisture in the ground. What makes it odd is that the child’s limbs are missing. There’s just the skull and the torso.”

  Gabe set the steaming mug in front of Quinn. “So, you think this child was dismembered?”

  “It would appear so. The police dug up the entire garden but found no trace of the other bones. They might have been buried separately, for whatever reason, or a dog might have dug them up, for all we know.”

  “Why would someone bury the remains of a child with such care, but not bury all of it in the same grave?”

  “That is the question, and Rhys thinks there’s a juicy story there.”

  “There probably is, if not a very pleasant one. Where are the remains now?”

  “I left them with Colin. He’ll run the usual tests and see what he can find out. He was in a mood today.”

  “Oh?”

  “He had an argument with Logan last night,” Quinn replied. “And Jill had a massive row with Brian. Planning a wedding can turn the most easy-going individuals into raving lunatics.”

  “Is there a full moon or something?” Gabe asked with a smile. “For the rest of the night I’m going to be saying, ‘Yes, ma’am,’” he joked. “I don’t want to argue with you.”

  “I’m too tired to argue,” Quinn replied.

  “Why don’t you go have a lie-down as well. Alex and I will take care of dinner.”

  “You are going to make us pasta?” Quinn asked, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

  “It’s time I expanded my culinary skills. Just forward me an easy recipe.”

  “All right. I’ll send you the one for pasta primavera, but don’t cock it up.”

  “Thank you for your vote of confidence. Or, should I say, ‘Yes, ma’am’?”

  Quinn laughed. “Sorry, I’m just feeling a bit off. I’m sure it will be delicious. I’m going to take a bath, and then take a closer look at the brooch that was pinned to the shawl. I’m curious about it.”

  “All right,” Gabe replied and lifted Alex’s hand to wave Quinn off. “Say bye to Mummy.”

  Alex grinned. “Bye,” he said very clearly.

  “Wow. He said it.”

  “We’ve been practicing. Alex say ‘Mummy’,” Gabe told him.

  “Ma,” Alex exclaimed gleefully.

  “You are brilliant,” Quinn said and kissed the baby’s sweet
-smelling head.

  “I was the one who taught him,” Gabe said sulkily.

  “You’re brilliant too.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with enthusiasm.

  Chapter 4

  June 2015

  London, England

  Having finished her bath, Quinn toweled herself dry and walked into the bedroom, where she got dressed and brushed out her hair. She had a few minutes until she had to return downstairs, so she pulled on a pair of latex gloves and took the brooch out of the bag. It wasn’t crusted with dirt, as the artifacts Quinn normally found were, but it was tarnished.

  Quinn ran a finger over the surface. She’d held the pin in her bare hands for only a moment when she’d first brought it home, long enough to ascertain that the owner was deceased. If she were still living, Quinn would have seen nothing, but an image of a young woman had immediately floated before her eyes, and Quinn had dropped the pin, unprepared for the secrets it had to tell.

  Helen, as the woman was called, had been what people used to refer to as “plain.” She had a trim figure and fine dark eyes, but she wasn’t beautiful, or even particularly pretty. She had a nice smile and a pleasant manner, but she was self-effacing, the type of person who melted into the background and was quickly forgotten by those who’d come across her. There had been an air of disappointment about her, but then, ten years after the end of the Second World War, there were still many women whose hopes had been dashed, and whose hearts had been torn to shreds by the losses they’d suffered.

  Quinn held the brooch up to the light. There was a design of some sort etched into it. She dabbed some facial cleanser onto a cotton disc and carefully wiped the surface. It took a few tries, but eventually the pattern became discernable. The letter H was carved into the brooch, executed in beautiful, old-fashioned calligraphy, so it looked flowy and whimsical.

  H for Helen, Quinn thought as she returned the brooch to the bag. “Was it your baby, Helen?” she asked the phantom of the woman who’d fastened the shawl with her pin. “What happened to it? To you?” Quinn whispered into the silent bedroom.