He turned to give her a dirty look. Hadn't he told her to be quiet? Honestly, the woman was annoying to the sum of a thousand.
She was pointing at the ground.
He sighed and came closer. Beneath the overgrowth and weeds was a two-foot-tall stone cross.
She grinned. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
He looked at her blankly.
She put her hands on her hips. "Start digging."
"With what?"
"You have extra vampire strength. Use your hands."
He eyed the cross. It did fit the clues. There were at Malcolm's alleged home in Garden Ridge at the correct coordinates. There was a cross right in front of him.
He started to dig.
After ten minutes he'd gone down about two feet. He looked up at Janie. "There's nothing down there."
"Keep digging." Then she frowned and pointed down. "Wait. What's that?"
He looked. It was something small that glinted in the sunlight. He reached down and brushed it off and then reached farther down into the dirt to uncover it.
"Is it the Eye?" Janie said breathlessly. "Let me see."
It was a shiny red rock, two inches in diameter. Looked like a ruby, but coated on one side in gold and engraved with a symbol. A circle surrounding a smaller circle.
It was something, but he was certain it wasn't the Eye.
"Dammit. That's not it." Janie crossed her arms. "Well, keep digging."
"That won't do you any good," a voice said from behind them. "The stone is the only thing that's buried there. I know that because I buried it myself hoping that you'd come to find it."
Quinn turned around slowly. He recognized that voice. Even after all of these years.
It was Malcolm. Standing there in the overgrown back yard. Not quite the Malcolm Price he knew before—a well-dressed, well-spoken, well-groomed man with dark hair gray at the temples. No, this version had a long white beard and hair to match, pulled back into a ponytail. Deep creases under his eyes. He wore a dark blue shirt and tan cargo pants.
But his eyes were the same. Those pale green eyes that had never looked at Quinn with cruelty or disappointment. They crinkled as he smiled widely. "I've waited for you a long time, my boy."
So many conflicting emotions ran through Quinn he didn't know where to start. Confusion, happiness, relief, mistrust. Complete and total shock and disbelief, even though he was now looking directly at the man he thought was dead for eight years. Just a small sampling.
He shook his head. "I can't believe this."
"Who are you?" Janie demanded as she backed away a few steps.
Quinn glanced at her. "That's Malcolm."
"I thought you said he was dead."
"That was the impression I wished to give to anyone who might be looking for me." Malcolm looked at her.
"This is a trap." Suspicion edged every word Janie spoke.
She had her gun in her hand again and with the other hand reached for her cell phone.
"Put the phone down, Janie. I told you Malcolm's an old friend of the family." Quinn regarded Malcolm.
"What the hell is going on? You'resupposed to be dead."
He smiled, and deep wrinkles spread out from the corners of his eyes. "I am, aren't I?"
Quinn found that he couldn't help the smile suddenly on his face. He swallowed past the lump of emotion that had suddenly formed in his throat and approached Malcolm cautiously, taking in the sight of him.
They clasped hands. "It's so good to see you. You look like hell, old man."
"But I feel wonderful." Malcolm's smile widened. "Please bring the red stone and come inside."
They followed him into the house, which wasn't as run-down on the inside as it was on the outside.
Clean floors and counters, modern appliances. The open shelving in the kitchen confirmed that Malcolm had enough canned food and bottled water to feed a small army.
"How long have you been here?" Quinn asked as he tried very hard to push past the lingering sense of disbelief he was having.
Malcolm tensed. "Since… since the accident. Or shortly after."
"What accident?" Janie words were clipped, and she eyed the men with mild curiosity. She kept her hand under her jacket, close to her shoulder holster.
"I had a little run-in of the fanged variety. They definitely got me back for what I'd done to them all those years."
Quinn cringed at the memory. He'd mourned the old man for a very long time. Helped to hunt down the vamps who did it. And now to find out it had all been a mistake?
"What happened?" he asked. "Why didn't you contact us? Contactme ?"
Malcolm approached him and patted his cheek with a gnarled hand. "I'm sorry I caused you grief. There are reasons for everything I do, my boy. I hope you can still trust me."
Quinn pressed his lips together, a lump forming in his throat. He swallowed past it. "So you live here now? All of the time?"
"I have Mildred at the gas station to keep me company."
"She's the one who told me where to find you."
The right side of his mouth quirked. "Ah, I doubt that you were looking for me. You were searching for the Eye, weren't you?"
He nodded. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Malcolm everything. Just spit out all of his troubles and woes in a tirade of words. But he stopped himself, glancing briefly at Janie, who was silent as the two of them had their reunion.