The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [29]
“—weeks in the hole. No one to brag to, no one to boost your ego, no one to rape when you realize you’re never ever going to even touch a woman again.”
“Do me a favor, fed. Next time you listen to my tape, picture your daughter’s face for me. Oh, and give your second daughter a kiss. Because someday, I’m gonna find a way out of this joint, and it makes me real happy to know that you’ve still got one daughter left.”
“One last time,” Quincy said tightly, his gaze locked on his blinking security system, “how did you get my unlisted number?”
And Sanchez drawled, “Unlisted? Not anymore.”
Quincy had no sooner set down his phone, than it rang again. He snatched it back up.
“What?” he demanded harshly.
There was a moment of silence, then his ex-wife’s uncertain voice. “Pierce?”
Quincy closed his eyes. He was unraveling. He would not unravel. He would not permit himself to do such a thing. “Elizabeth.”
“I was wondering if you could do me a small favor,” Bethie murmured. “Nothing major. Simply run a background check. You know, as you did before.”
“Your father hiring more contractors?” Quincy worked on loosening his grip on the phone and taking a deep breath. His father-in-law had built an addition on his home last year. He’d made his only daughter call her ex-husband to request background checks on the entire crew. According to his former father-in-law, it was the least Quincy could do.
“The name is Shandling. Tristan Shandling.”
Quincy found a piece of paper and wrote down the name. His heart was finally beginning to slow, the darkness receding at the edge of his vision. He felt more and more like his former self, and not some beast about to burst its chains. The red digital counter still glowed on his answering machine. Fifty-six messages. Something had gone wrong. He would deal with it, however, as he’d dealt with everything before. All in good time.
“Time frame?” he asked his ex-wife.
“Ummm, no rush. But soon. I think he has a place in Virginia if that helps.”
“All right, Bethie. Give me a few days.”
“Thank you, Pierce,” she said, and for once it sounded as if she meant it.
Quincy didn’t hang up the phone right away. Neither did she.
“Have you . . . have you heard from Kimberly lately?” he found himself asking.
Bethie seemed surprised. “No, but I’d assumed that you had.”
“Ah, so we’re equally shunned.”
“Maybe she tried to call you when you were gone. . . .” Bethie’s voice trailed off. She seemed to realize how that sounded and added hastily, “I tried to reach you earlier in the week, but you weren’t home and I didn’t feel like leaving a message.”
“I was in Portland visiting someone. An old friend.” He wasn’t sure why he offered the information, and the minute he did, he wished he could call it back. An old friend? Who was he trying to kid? When Bethie spoke, however, she didn’t sound angry or tense, which surprised him.
“Maybe I should pay Kimberly a visit,” she said. “She’s just an hour away, I could tell her I was in the area. It’s been a month.”
Quincy almost said no, then caught himself. Once, Rainie had accused him of taking his job too far. Even in his personal life, he showed up, gave his expert opinion, and left.
“Perhaps Kimberly just needs some space,” he tried neutrally.
“I don’t know why. We’re the only family she has left. Frankly, I thought she’d strive to be closer to us, not further away.”
Quincy rubbed his temples. “Bethie, I know that you’re sad. I’m sad, too.”
“Pierce, you’re speaking to me as if I were five.”
“We tried so hard for her. I know we don’t always agree on each other’s role as a parent, but we both loved Mandy. We wanted the best for her. We would’ve . . . We would’ve given her the world if such a thing were possible. Instead she got drunk, crawled behind the wheel of her vehicle and killed two people. I love her. I miss her. And some days . . . Some days, I’m just so angry.”
He was thinking of Sanchez’s call again, and the way his hands had fisted and his body had gone rigid.