Woman on the Edge(62)

An arm catches me out of nowhere and lifts me off my feet as though I weigh nothing. I’m being carried over someone’s shoulder. Only once I’m outside, lying on the grass, do I realize it was Ben. He stands over me, calling out my name. Behind him, two firefighters storm forward, pulling hoses.

“Can you breathe?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, coughing and spluttering, trying to get my words out as an EMT appears and places an oxygen mask over my face. I push it away. “Where’s Quinn?” I cry.

A window shatters from the second floor, flames roaring. More firefighters are running into the house. “There’s a baby in that house!” I yell their way. “Please save her!”

“We know, ma’am. They’re doing the best they can,” the EMT says.

I lock eyes with Ben whose face is black with soot. My heart breaks into a million pieces.

The EMT helps me up and holds my purse out for me. “Is this yours? What’s your name?”

“Morgan Kincaid.”

Ben stands there as another EMT checks him out. Others are working on Greg nearby.

“Ma’am, we’re transporting that man to the hospital. He has severe smoke inhalation and burns on his arms and legs. Do you know who he is?”

“His name is Greg Markham,” I say. “Please, I have to talk to him.”

I struggle past the EMT, who’s calling out behind me.

“Ma’am! Please!”

I collapse on the ground by his side. “Where’s Quinn?” I demand.

Greg’s eyes are open. He knows exactly who I am. He groans and lifts his oxygen mask away from his mouth. In a guttural whisper, he says, “She took her.”

“What?” I say, not understanding.

“She … did this. And she took Quinn.”

Ben has stumbled over and is standing beside us. “Greg?” he asks. “Did Melissa take Quinn? Is that what you’re saying?”

He can’t breathe, can’t speak. He puts the mask back on, shakes his head back and forth.

Ben puts an arm around me, and I sob, unable to do anything but watch as firefighters douse the flames until only thick black smoke rises to the sky. Two firefighters emerge from the front doors with a stretcher.

As the firefighters approach, I see they’re carrying a woman with red hair, her face covered by an oxygen mask. Melissa.

I run over, Ben behind me. “Where’s Quinn?” I say. “Is she inside?”

“No,” she wheezes. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Terror runs through every part of me.

“Tessa,” she says, gasping for breath. “She did this. And she took Quinn.”



* * *




Quinn is missing, with Tessa, and Ben and I are stuck, lying side by side on stretchers in the overcrowded hallway of the ER at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. We’ve had blood taken and a pulse ox, as Ben calls it, and we’re awaiting chest X-rays. My head throbs, my lungs burn, and my throat is raw from smoke inhalation and crying. But all I care about is finding Quinn.

I lift my oxygen mask. It hurts to talk, but I do it anyway. “Tell me the truth,” I demand. “Did you drug Nicole? When you brought the prescription to her house? Do you want her money for your hospital? Did you set me up?”

Ben’s mouth drops open. “Are you out of your mind?” He clutches his stomach, distressed.

“Why didn’t you tell me Nicole left you money you needed for the hospital? When did you find out?”

“I never asked Nicole for money. Where did you get that idea? I work in one of the lowest-income areas in Chicago for a reason. Her attorney contacted me the morning after she died, and I felt sick about it. God, if she thought that’s all I wanted from her … I just wanted to be in her life.” He slumps defeatedly. “All I want is for Quinn to be okay. I’ve lost my sister. I can’t take any more.” Tears fall onto his oxygen mask.

My anger dissipates, and I reach out and touch his arm. “You saved my life,” I say.

“You saved mine. And you ran into a burning house to find Quinn. You pushed us out of the way of a maniac driver. It’s time we trusted each other, because we’re all we’ve got right now.”

Tears pour down my face, and my head pounds. His fingers find mine and squeeze. I squeeze back. So many lives have been destroyed. Tessa took Quinn. And we don’t know where they are.

We both look up to see Jessica, her red-and-blue-striped dress a blur as she tears down the hallway. She comes to a halt, her phone in her hand, eyes scanning me from head to toe. “I left right after you called me, but the traffic was insane. Have you seen a doctor yet?” she asks.

I release Ben’s hand and lift the oxygen mask. “Just tests. Does Martinez know? Have they found Quinn?”

“Martinez knows about the fire. She was there right after you were both taken away by ambulance. And she’s tracking Tessa but hasn’t found her. But you’re no longer a person of interest, Morgan.”

I don’t dare believe this is true.

“And we now know how you’re connected to Nicole. You posted on a website called Maybe Mommy about wanting to adopt a baby. Nicole responded in a private message to you, and you wrote her back. All those messages were found in your Maybe Mommy account on your phone’s hard drive. The forensics team checked Nicole’s computer, her hard drive, and linked the messages back to you. Her user name is Lost and Confused.”