It was two in the morning when Quinn and Laura stumbled into their hotel room. Laura was mildly intoxicated. Quinn had hardly touched any of the drinks that had been thrust upon him. He was afraid of what he might say or do if he got drunk.
"Gary Lyle is a horse's ass," Laura said as she collapsed on the bed fully clothed, "but I like his friend Cliff."
"He seemed okay," Quinn answered as he shucked his jacket and sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes.
Laura sat up and draped an arm across her husband's shoulders.
"You were quiet tonight."
"Was I? I'm just tired, I guess."
Laura leaned into Quinn. She slipped her hand inside his shirt and ran it slowly back and forth across his chest.
"Not too tired, I hope."
Before Quinn could answer, Laura's lips were melting onto his. Laura pressed Quinn onto his back and finished unbuttoning his shirt. Then she slid down the straps of her dress and shrugged it off. Quinn's throat was dry. It had been so long since Laura had initiated sex.
Laura slid out of her bra and panties. Her breasts were high and firm and her skin was the color of cream. She sank to her knees between Quinn's legs and unzipped his pants. He did not move as she slid them down his legs, then did the same with his underpants. He closed his eyes and began to swim in sensation. There was a feeling of silk on skin as Laura slid against him and up the length of his body. He could smell her hair. He could taste her lips and her tongue. Then he saw Andrea's face frozen in terror as she burst from the sea.
Quinn's eyes opened. He was sweating. He held Laura tightly. Laura could not hear Andrea's scream, but she must have heard the rapid beat of his heart, because she pulled back and looked at Quinn.
"What's wrong?"
Quinn did not answer. He sat up and put his feet on the floor. His breathing was ragged. Laura's eyes widened. She was afraid that Quinn was having a heart attack.
"Are you all right?"
Quinn needed to confess, to unburden himself. But how could he talk to Laura about the things that had happened in the cove? The bed moved as she slipped to the floor in front of Quinn and took his hands in hers. She looked so concerned. Quinn saw with crystal clarity that this was the pivotal moment in their marriage. Laura was his wife, but for months he had not been certain that she loved him. If she did, they would ride out this tragedy together. If she did not, his confession could sever the slender thread that bound them together.
Laura squeezed his hand. "Dick?"
Quinn could not keep his terror and despair inside any longer. He needed help and he prayed that Laura was the person to turn to for it.
"Something happened today," Quinn managed. "Something very bad. I ... I was with a woman."
"What?"
"She was someone I met on the plane. She sat next to me on the flight from New York. Her name was Andrea Chapman. She's dead. She was murdered."
Laura stared at Quinn, too stunned to speak. Quinn focused on the floor as he told Laura about Andrea's invitation to spend the day at the Cove of Lost Souls. Then Quinn told Laura how Andrea died.
"One minute she was there, then she was gone. I thought she was playing a game until she screamed." Quinn shook his head to rid himself of the image. "I tried to save her. I dove down and grabbed the diver's arm, but I swallowed water and I had to come up for air. I was choking." Quinn paused. He was having trouble breathing, as if he were underwater again. "When I dove the second time, Andrea and the diver were almost out of sight. When I went under the third time, they were gone."
"Have you told the police?"
"No. I was afraid."
"Of what?"
"Andrea talked about drugs. She said the police are corrupt. That they work with drug dealers. The killing could be drug related. And ..."
Quinn's voice trailed off. Laura studied him.
"Did anything happen between the two of you, Dick?"
Quinn did not answer. His head hung lower.
"Did you . . . were you . . . intimate?" Laura asked, using this bland term because it provided a barrier between her feelings and her fear.
"We didn't ... It never got that far," Quinn answered, his voice barely above a whisper.
"How far did it get?"
Quinn tried to answer the question, but he could not. Laura stood up and walked away from the bed.
"I don't know what happened," Quinn told her without conviction. His eyes begged for forgiveness, but he did not see any give in Laura's rigid features.
"It was just a kiss. We . . . we only touched one time."
Quinn wanted to tell her that nothing would have happened, that he would have remained faithful, but the lie died unspoken.
Laura paced back and forth. Quinn felt smaller and smaller as each moment passed in silence. Laura sat in a chair near the window. She was thinking like an attorney so she would not have to think like a woman.
"How certain are you that you can't be connected to the murder?" Laura asked.
"I don't know. I don't think my fingerprints are on anything, but I can't be certain. Even if they are, the St.
Jerome Police won't have the technology to match them unless I become a suspect."
"Were there any witnesses? Anyone who knows that you were with this woman?"
"I don't think so."
Quinn told Laura about the soldiers in the jeep and the people in the village.
"But they didn't see me with Andrea. I did sit next to her on the plane. Another passenger may have heard us make plans to meet, but I doubt it."
"How certain are you about the corruption on St. Jerome?"
"Andrea was pretty emphatic about it. I have heard other things. One of the organizers of the conference made some remarks while we were talking."
"Given what you know about the government of St. Jerome, I think going to the authorities would be a mistake, especially now that you've waited to come forward. That looks very suspicious. If you went to the police, you wouldn't be able to tell them anything, anyway."
"You're right. I'm not even sure of the sex of the diver."
"If this came out, you being with this . . . this woman in the cove, the murder. If you became a suspect . . . The effect on your career would be devastating."
"Then, you think I should say nothing?"
"It's a gamble. There's no telling when the body will be discovered. With luck, you'll be back home and no one will connect you to the crime."
"Thank you, Laura."
"Don't thank me," Laura answered harshly. "I'm doing this for me as much as for you. Do you think I want to be involved in your sordid affair or with the police?"
Laura walked over to the desk and picked up the phone.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm going to get a seat on the next flight back to Portland."
"Don't leave me. Please. I need you."
"You should have thought about that when you cheated on me."
"Don't do this, Laura. I love you. We need to discuss this calmly."
"We do, but I am not calm now. I am very, very angry, and I need some time away from you to think about what I want to do. We can talk when you get back. Right now, I can't stand the sight of you."
Chapter 15.
Quinn's plane landed in Portland at eight-thirty Friday evening. Laura knew his flight number and the time of arrival, but she was not waiting for him. Quinn found a taxi.
There were lights on in the house when the cab arrived at Hereford Farms. Quinn paid the driver and carried his suitcases to the front door. Laura opened it before he could ring the bell. She was wearing dark jeans and a black turtleneck. Her hair was combed, but she wore no makeup. There were circles under Laura's eyes and her complexion was paler than usual. He forced a smile, but Laura did not return it.