After a moment, Ava drew back. “I apologize. I’m a mess. You’ve come such a long way. Can I make you some tea?”
Quinn hadn’t had a proper brew since breakfast yesterday. “Aye, I’d be grateful.”
“Olivia, do you remember your Uncle Quinn?” Ava shepherded her daughters inside while Quinn held the door for them.
Olivia looked up at Quinn through wide blue eyes, nodded.
He walked inside and closed the door, shutting out the damp. There on a small mat sat four pairs of wellies, the largest belonging to Jack. Jack’s coat hung from its hook, his brolly in the stand.
God almighty, Jack. How the fuck can you be dead?
“I’m embarrassed by how untidy the place is.” Ava’s English accent sounded formal to Quinn’s Glaswegian ears, especially after five years of living in the United States. “I do apologize.”
“Never you mind about that.”
They moved to the kitchen, where the rubbish bin overflowed and dishes sat piled high in the sink.
Ava filled the kettle and put it on to boil. “Have you had breakfast?”
“I had a bite at the airport.” He didn’t want her fretting about him.
She turned to the sink. “I’ll do the washing up while that boils.”
Quinn stood. “Ava, come and sit. I’ll do that.”
“Oh, I couldn’t ask you—”
“You’re no’ askin’. I’m offerin’.” He knew how to load a dishwasher.
She turned, met his gaze, her control crumbling, despair in her blue eyes. “It’s been only three days—just three days—and it’s been a living hell. I didn’t know a person could feel this much pain. How am I supposed to get through the rest of my life?”
It was an honest question, one that came from her heart. Christ Jesus, he wished he knew what to say—or whose head to bash.
He led Ava to a seat at the table, knelt down in front of her, and looked into her eyes, trying not to let his emotions show. “You’ll take it one day at a time, aye?”
2
Quinn sipped his tea, while he and Ava talked, the two wee ones playing in the next room. “He called last week, but I was in Afghanistan. I didnae call him back. We were busy, and by day’s end I was pure knackered. I shoulda taken the time.”
He would never have the chance to speak with Jack again.
“Don’t feel guilty about that. It wasn’t your fault.”
“Have the police told you anythin’?”
“A little.” She drew a breath, as if to steel herself. “The post-mortem said he died quickly of a single slash wound to the left side of his throat that severed his carotid artery and trachea, but I could see that for myself. They asked me to identify his body and…”
Ava’s face crumpled, and she began to sob.
Rage sheared through Quinn at the sight of her suffering.
“I would have done anything to put life back into his body. He … he was blue and… so still. God, I want him back.”
Quinn had seen death, had carried the corpses of friends from the battlefield. “Try not to remember him that way. I know from experience that it disnae help.”
“Yes. Quite right.” She nodded, sniffed. “The autopsy found no signs that he’d been in a fight—no bruising or cuts. The toxicology tests aren’t back yet. The detective says it looks like a robbery. The killer left the car but took Jack’s watch, wallet, and his mobile phones—both his personal phone and his work phone. Police said they could use the phones to track the killer, but so far…”
The killer would have to be daft not to think of that, but Quinn didn’t say so. “Give the police time. There are a fair few ways to track a mobile phone.”