The Passing Storm(14)

Pain seized Rae. “I never told Lark the full story of how we lost her grandmother. Just the basics.”

“Good call, in my opinion. Totally would’ve freaked her out. Given her nightmares.”

They’d reached the barn. Quinn studied the sky. Clouds scuttled past, dark with the threat of more precipitation.

“Thanks again, Miz . . . Rae.” He frowned. “Are you okay, walking back the rest of the way?”

The inference being that he was escorting her.

Their cordial interlude didn’t erase Quinn’s serious lapses in judgment. He’d been trespassing on her property since Lark’s funeral last October. The unsanctioned visits were a terrible reminder of the senseless accident on the Thomerson estate. Quinn, the high school senior who’d secretly dated her ninth grader. According to the police report, they’d dated for months before Lark’s death.

Anger leaped through Rae, charging the air between them. On its heels came a second emotion that momentarily sickened her.

The change put Quinn on alert. He pivoted toward the forest.

“Oh no you don’t.” She latched on to his sleeve. “You’re coming inside. I have a few questions of my own.”





Chapter 5


Rae led her nervous companion through the mudroom. In the kitchen, her father was digging through the fridge, no doubt searching for dinner options.

“Dad, look who dropped by. Lark’s old friend—our mystery maid.”

His stunned gaze bounced past her, to latch on to Quinn. The fridge’s bluish light glowed on his startled features.

She pointed at the table. “Quinn, take a load off.”

Connor blurted, “You brought the delinquent into my house?”

“Our house, and he’s not a delinquent.” She gave her father a gentle push toward the table. “He dropped by to answer my questions. Feel free to add a few of your own. Quinn, would you like coffee?”

“I’ll pass, but thanks.”

“Join us for a cup,” Rae suggested. “The pick-me-up will do you good. It’s best if you’re perky while I grill you.”

He darted a glance at her father. “Can I leave?” Connor’s silvered brows were lowering, his mouth thinning.

“Move from that chair, and you’ll wish you hadn’t,” she said, closing the fridge.

“Jeez, Miz—Rae. Don’t threaten me.”

With efficient movements Rae dumped coffee into the machine. A strange euphoria overlaid the heartache that had been her unwanted companion since October. For the first time since Lark’s casket was lowered into the ground, she felt alert. Arisen from sorrow’s dark slumber.

“Relax, kid. We’re just talking.”

“I know a threat when I hear one. I’m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not. If I wanted to threaten you, I’d say something like, ‘Quinn, if you were sleeping with my daughter, I’ll have to think seriously about doing murder. Because Lark was precious and perfect, and I’ll never get over losing her.’ Did I say that?”

“Not exactly.”

“That’s right. I’ve been known to have a temper, but I’m not a fan of irrational behavior. Doing murder, why, it’d take something serious, like finding out a boy three years older took advantage of my child. Because unbeknownst to me, Lark was sneaking around with you for months. My fourteen-year-old daughter. My innocent child.”

“We were just friends!”

The coffee finished brewing. “Define ‘friends.’ I want to ensure we’re communicating.” Rae splashed coffee into the mugs, spattering droplets across the counter. “This is awkward for all of us, but I need specifics. Did you lay a hand on my daughter?”

Quinn set his jaw.

A short, stifled growl escaped Connor. “You heard the question. Now, tell us!”

“I’ve already told you. We didn’t like each other that way.”

Taking the mug she offered, Connor sat next to the youth. “Okay, hotshot. If everything was on the up-and-up, why didn’t Lark bring you around? She brought lots of friends to the house.”

“She knew you wouldn’t approve. Because I was older than her. She thought . . . well.” Quinn wrapped his hands around the mug Rae set before him. He looked frightened, wary, like a cornered animal. But his gaze flashed when it lifted. “She figured you’d think we were messing around. That’s what everyone thought at school. Like you must be dating if you’re hanging out. Why do people assume a guy always has an agenda? There’s nothing wrong with being friends with a girl. Not if you have the same interests.”

The same interests. With a start, Rae understood. “Last year . . . were you enrolled in classes at the craft emporium?” Lark had repeatedly taken Yuna’s classes for teens. A course on portrait drawing. Other courses, on painting with acrylics and an introduction to sculpture.

“Yeah, we started hanging out during Yuna’s classes. Last spring. Yuna let me help around her shop instead of paying for the courses. She knew I couldn’t afford them.”

“You weren’t friends with my daughter before then?”

“Only a little. Whenever I saw Lark on Chardon Square, she was cool. Nicer than most girls. Lots more friendly than the dudes. She never picked on kids, you know?”