“Sometimes, there’s no choice-”
“Not with my family. They all could stay home and read books, but they don’t. My parents-” She stepped onto a brick walk that curved around dogwoods, lilacs and azaleas that soon would be in bloom. “I used to worry myself sick about them when I was a kid. They’re marine archaeologists. It sounds like a safe profession, doesn’t it? But they’ve had so many close calls, diving into sunken ships, exploring remote places. They’d leave me with my grandfather.”
Huck eased in next to her. “He’s not a risk-taker?”
“He’s a historian, too. His area of study is the Civil War. These days he’s a volunteer guide at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville.”
“Old guy?”
“Eighty-two.” Feeling the sun warm on the back of her neck, Quinn took a breath, some of her tension letting up. “My point is, Alicia could have done everything right the other day, and still could have drowned.”
“Quinn.” Huck’s tone had lost some of its edge. “You did what you could. It sounds as if she had problems-”
“She didn’t kill herself.”
“Maybe not on purpose.”
Quinn swung around at him. “Where are you in the Breakwater hierarchy?”
“I’m the new guy. I’m at rock bottom.”
“That’s not good. I was hoping you could pull strings for me. I guess I’ll manage on my own, especially since no one’s going to shoot me-”
“I could just throw you over my shoulder and dump your butt back in your kayak.”
“Then you could kiss your new job goodbye, couldn’t you?”
He didn’t answer, but she thought he gritted his teeth.
The brick walk led to the front of the house. If she was going in the wrong direction to find Oliver Crawford, Huck wasn’t going to tell her. He didn’t want her there at all. She could hardly blame him.
“Why was Alicia here on Monday?”
“I have no idea-”
“She and Gerard Lattimore, her boss, my former boss, get along well. He thought she was burned out at work and needed some time off, understood the appeal of Yorkville in springtime.” Quinn cast Huck a look. “He wasn’t here, was he?”
“No.”
“Oliver Crawford-”
“Him, either.”
The Riccardis intercepted them in front of the porch steps. She’d met them, briefly, at Lattimore’s party in March. In retrospect, she suspected the party was his way of showing his approval of his friend Oliver’s private security firm-of legitimizing it without having to go on record.
Sharon Riccardi, in a Breakwater sweatshirt a size too big for her, stepped forward, ahead of her husband. “Miss Harlowe?” There was a decided sharpness to her tone. “Is there something we can do for you?”
Before she could respond, Huck answered. “She was out kayaking and stopped just outside the fence-”
“I’d like to say hi to Oliver,” Quinn interrupted. “I saw his helicopter arrive.”
Joe Riccardi gave Huck an irritated glance, then turned to her, smiling pleasantly. “Miss Harlowe, Mr. Crawford’s on a very tight schedule.”
“You look half-frozen,” Sharon said. “My God, you’re shivering.”
“I underestimated how cold the water is this time of year.”
Joe straightened. “Huck can drive you and your kayak back to your cottage. We’re very sorry for your loss yesterday. We’d met Alicia…” He hesitated, as if he didn’t know what more to say. “We’re sorry.”
“She was lovely,” his wife interjected. “Absolutely lovely.”
Quinn decided to push harder, although she wasn’t sure why. “Can you tell Oliver that I’m here and-”
“Quinn!” Crawford himself trotted down the porch steps. He had gray-flecked dark hair and was about six feet tall, paunchy, dressed in baggy jeans and a navy cotton sweater with the elbows blown out. He took both Quinn’s hands into his. “It’s good to see you, although I wish the circumstances were better. I heard about Alicia, of course. I’ve already called Gerry to express my condolences.”
“Thank you.”
“What can I do for you?” He squeezed her hands. “You’re freezing.”
Now that she was here, seeing how distraught everyone was over Alicia’s death, Quinn didn’t know what to say, and she was so cold, she just wanted to crawl back into her quilt at her cottage and stay there. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to say hello.”
“You’ve never been out here, have you?” When she shook her head, he let her hands go and gestured broadly, taking in his entire hundred-acre estate. “We’re transforming the place into a state-of-the-art security company. We want to keep it small, elite.”
“Looks as if you have your own mini-Quantico here.” She thought of Donna at the diner, the talk in town surrounding Breakwater. “There’s a rumor going around town that you’ve got snipers on the roof and everything.”