The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [59]
Society Hill, Pennsylvania
The minute Bethie opened her front door, her security system sounded a warning beep. She crossed the threshold and worked the keypad. As was her custom, she entered in the disarm code first, then requested a survey of the various security zones. All quiet on the western front.
Tristan shut the front door behind her. Then locked it.
“Nice system,” he commented.
“Believe it or not, as part of our divorce decree, my ex-husband must provide basic security for the girls and me for the rest of our lives. Not that he minds. Quincy has been at his job a little too long; he sees homicidal maniacs everywhere.”
“You can never be too sure,” Tristan said.
“Perhaps.” Bethie set down the picnic basket next to the entry table. It needed to be cleaned out, but that could wait until morning. She started humming, thinking about waking up with Tristan and the various possibilities for breakfast in bed. When was the last time she’d made omelets or biscuits or crêpes suzette? When was the last time she’d started her day with anything more than black coffee and a boring piece of toast? She was so happy she’d gone out with Tristan today. And she was even happier that she’d taken these first few baby steps back into the land of the living.
She glanced absently at her answering machine and was surprised to see that she had eight new messages.
“Do you mind?” she asked, nodding her head toward the digital display. “It will only take a minute.”
“By all means. Do you have some sherry? I can pour us each a glass while I wait.”
Bethie directed him toward the small wet bar in her dining room, hoping her cleaning woman had been conscientious about checking the crystal decanter for dust; Bethie had last had a glass of sherry five years ago. Well, this was a night for new beginnings.
She picked up a little spiral notepad and hit play.
The first message was a hang up, from seven-ten that morning. The caller had just missed her: she’d left with Tristan only moments before. Then came another hang up. Then another. Finally, a person: Pierce calling shortly after noon. “We need to talk,” her ex-husband said in that crisp manner of his. “It’s about Mandy.”
Bethie frowned. She felt the first prickle of unease. Another hang up. Another hang up. Then another one. The muscles in her abdomen tightened. She realized now that she was steeling herself for something bad, preparing her body for the blow.
It came at precisely 8:02 P.M. Pierce, once more on the machine. “Elizabeth, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’ll be honest, I’m very worried. When you get this message, please call me immediately on my cell phone, regardless of time. Some things have come up. And Bethie—maybe we need to talk about Tristan Shandling because I tried to run a background check on him today and no such person exists. Call me.”
Bethie’s gaze came up. She fumbled with the volume switch on her answering machine but it was already too late. Tristan stood in the doorway, holding two tiny glasses of sherry and gazing at her curiously.
“You asked Pierce to run a background check on me?”
She nodded dumbly. The blood had drained out of her face. She felt suddenly light-headed, unsteady on her feet.
“Why, Elizabeth Quincy, you have finally surprised me.”
Tristan set down the two glasses on a side table. Run, Bethie thought. But she was in her own house, she didn’t know where to go. And then she was thinking of all those textbooks Pierce used to have in his office. The day she’d come home and found her girls staring wide-eyed at a pile they’d pulled down from the bookshelf, color photo after color photo of mutilated female flesh, naked, tortured bodies with hacked-off breasts.
“Who . . . who are you?”
“Supervisory Special Agent Pierce Quincy, of course. I have a driver’s license that says so.”
“But . . . but you have the scar. I touched it, I know!” Her voice was rising.
In comparison, he sounded increasingly serene. “Did it myself, the day you pulled the plug on Mandy. A sterile knife, a steady hand with the needle. There are certain things you