The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [110]
“Are they poisoned?” she asked. A shiver ran down her spine.
“You think I would ask you to eat poisoned chocolates? What has your husband done to you?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just—”
“The candies are doctored, love. A chocolate-flavored laxative, that’s all, melted down and injected with a syringe. One truffle will have a minor impact on your system. Two or three, however, should, well, give the private investigator more pressing things to do with his time than watch you. When he drives off in search of proper facilities, you can get away.”
“To meet you!”
“I’ve missed you, too, love.”
“Tell me I’m beautiful.”
His voice was generous. “You are beautiful beyond compare, particularly in black lace.”
“I’ll wear the garters,” she said breathlessly.
“Perfect. I’ll wear nothing at all.”
“Oh God, I can’t wait to see you!”
“One box of chocolates later, I’ll be at your side.”
She smiled for the first time all morning. But then she remembered how she looked, and she hesitated. “I’m a little . . . sore,” she said softly.
He understood instantly. “Then when I see you, baby, I will kiss all your pains away.”
She started to cry again, quietly this time, genuinely. He would make her feel better. He always did. The first time she’d arrived with black-and-blue ribs, she’d told him that she’d fallen down the stairs. But he’d known. And instead of turning away, instead of looking at her with disgust, he had taken her in his arms and held her tenderly.
“You poor thing,” he had said. “You are much too precious for this.”
She had cried that night for hours. The whole time, he simply held her and stroked her hair. In her entire life, she had never had anyone touch her as gently as he did. In her entire life, no one had ever made her feel so special.
Briefly, for one instant, she thought of Amanda. Amanda who had never hurt her. Amanda who had been a good friend. Amanda who had been so excited to introduce her new man . . .
But you kept drinking, Mandy, she thought. You had the world’s most perfect beau, and still you hit the bottle. After that, you deserved what happened. Besides, you always had plenty of men. And I . . . I needed him.
She replaced the phone, using the sleeve of her robe to wipe away the streaks of mascara and tears. One box of chocolates later on she would be with him again, she thought. One box of chocolates later. She hoped they came quick.
30
Pearl District, Portland
A little after eleven A.M., Quincy followed Rainie into her downtown loft. She flicked on the lights out of habit, though daylight streamed through the front bank of windows and the space was bright. The air carried the musty scent of a home that had been empty too long. Quincy knew that fragrance—it was how his own residence always greeted him.
“I should check on a few things,” Rainie said nervously. He nodded, walking into the living area while she flitted about the open space. She had been like this all morning. Rarely meeting his eye, skittering away if he moved too close. Soft and still one moment. Nearly frantic the next. He thought he knew what was going on. Then again, his instincts weren’t the best these days.
Shortly after their discussion that morning, Rainie had left a message on Carl Mitz’s cell phone. She couldn’t leave the number for Quincy’s cell phone without revealing that he was with her, and she couldn’t give the phone number of the hotel room without compromising that location, so she provided the number Mitz already knew—her loft in the Pearl District. Kimberly had opted to stay in the hotel room, where she was using Rainie’s PI license number to access various law enforcement databases for background reports. Quincy and Rainie would wait for Mitz’s response at her place. The division of labor made practical sense. If there were other motives, no one was mentioning them.
Quincy walked around the sofa, pausing in various sunbeams. He liked the feel