The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [136]
“I trust you’ll be more reasonable,” he said, twisting Kimberly’s arm behind her back and positioning her as a human shield.
Rainie nodded. Slowly, she lowered her gun to the carpet, her gaze falling on the black canvas bag. Why such a big bag? What would he bring with him?
“Now, kick the firearm toward me.”
Rainie complied, jabbing at her Glock .40 with her toe but not putting much effort into it. The heavy pistol stopped three feet away, under the glass coffee table. She made a show of shrugging helplessly, and waited to see if Andrews would push the issue. He frowned at her, but with his hands already full with one female, seemed content to let it go.
Rainie took a deep breath. Remain calm, she instructed herself, though her hands had begun to shake and her heart hammered in her chest. She’d kept him on the phone for a decent interval. Now if she and Kimberly could stall him just a minute or two more. The open windows. The unwatched fire escape with easy access to their room. Come on, cavalry. . . .
What was in that bag?
Kimberly was weeping. Trapped against Andrews, her shoulders had slumped, her spine was bowed. She didn’t seem to have much fight left.
“Perfect,” Andrews said. “Now that everyone is feeling more agreeable, we have a lot of work to do, ladies. Bombs to build, detonating devices to wire to telephones. Your father is going to call at precisely one-fifteen, Kimberly. I don’t want to miss the opportunity for him to blow his own daughter and his lady love into tiny little bits.”
Oh shit, that was what was in that bag. Rainie closed her eyes. Andrews had brought all the ingredients for a homemade bomb. God knows it wouldn’t take much to blow up a room this size and who cares if Andrews took out a fair portion of the hotel and other unsuspecting guests with him? It would be the ultimate triumph for him. Restraining Kimberly and Rainie. Then rigging a bomb to the telephone, so that the first ring triggered the blast. Quincy would not only lose the only family he had left, but when the first forensics report came in, he’d get to learn that he’d basically pulled the trigger. He’d killed his own daughter. He’d murdered Rainie. Oh, Quincy. Oh, poor, poor Quincy.
Rainie’s eyes came open. She felt the breeze from the open window on her face, but she no longer knew if they had enough time to wait. She and Kimberly could not let Andrews build that bomb. Under no circumstances could they let Andrews take out half a hotel simply to spite Quincy.
Rainie looked at Kimberly, trying to catch the girl’s gaze. They needed some kind of plan. Maybe Kimberly could get the professor talking, keep him focused on exchanging banalities with his former student so Rainie might ease her way toward her Glock. Three feet. That wasn’t much. Right?
Kimberly, however, had her head down. Her slender figure appeared despondent. She was so young, after all. And under such terrible stress.
“I blamed my father,” Kimberly whispered, maybe to herself, maybe to Andrews. “All along, I blamed my father, but in reality, I’m the one who betrayed my family.” Another thought seemed to strike her. Her head jolted up, her eyes suddenly growing wide. “Oh my God, the Sanchez case. I’ve been going over it and over it, thinking there was more of a connection. Of course. Dr. Andrews’s research work at San Quentin.” She twisted toward Andrews, straining to see his face. “You knew Sanchez! You’re the connection! How could I be so blind? Dammit!”
“You failed to ask the right question in the very beginning,” Andrews said matter-of-factly, yanking Kimberly’s arm more savagely to quell her movements. Rainie saw her chance. She eased forward an inch.
“If this was revenge, why now?” Andrews postulated for his former student. “You could theorize that it was a felon who finally got out of prison, but I trust you already