The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [68]
“Probably.”
“Then you build a database! You build a database and you fill it with all the old names, and then . . . then you figure out who got out from jail when and you arrest his ass! Process of elimination, then arrest his ass!” Her voice was high, she didn’t sound anything like herself.
Her father repeated, “We’re working on it.”
“I don’t understand.” Her voice broke. She was close to weeping again. “Mandy . . . Mandy was always attracted to the wrong sort of men. But Mom . . . Mom was careful. She didn’t talk to strangers, she wouldn’t let some guy sweet-talk her into entering her home. She was too smart for that.”
“Had you spoken to your mother recently?”
“No. I’ve been . . . busy.” Kimberly bowed her head.
“She called me two days ago. She was worried about you.”
“I know.”
“I’ve been worried about you, too.”
“I know.”
He waited. An expert pause, she’d always thought. But she’d been studying and learning things, too. That was the hard part of following in her father’s footsteps. Once he’d seemed almost God-like to her. Lately, however, no longer a neophyte, she watched him perform the old tricks and could see him pulling the strings. The first time it had happened, she’d been proud of her new insight. After Mandy’s funeral, however, it only left her feeling empty.
He got off the sofa. Paced the room the way he did when he was tense or working on a particularly baffling case. He was pale, she realized. Thinner, nearly gaunt. Then it hit her. He looked like her. She nearly started crying again.
Her mother, yelling: “You’re just like your father!”
Herself, yelling back: “I know, Mom, and Mandy’s just like you!”
“Why don’t we walk through this from the beginning,” the chestnut-haired woman said from the sofa. Her father turned and frowned at her, his favorite intimidating look. The woman, however, wasn’t impressed. “Quincy, she’s part of this now. She might as well know as much as we know. Information may be the only defense we have left.”
“I don’t—”
“Yes!” Kimberly interrupted from the floor. “I am part of this. I need to know. . . . There has to be something we can do.”
“Dammit, you’re my daughter—”
“And I’m his target.”
“You’re only twenty-one—”
“I’ve been trained in martial arts and firearms. I am not helpless!”
“I never wanted this. If there was anything I could do . . .”
“I know.” Her voice quieted. She said more sincerely, “I know. But here we are. There must be something I can do.”
Her father closed his eyes. For a moment, she thought she might have glimpsed tears in them. Then he sighed, returned to the sofa, and sat down. When he spoke again, he sounded cool, composed, like an FBI agent instead of a father. She wasn’t sure why that comforted her.
“We’ll start at the beginning,” Quincy said. “It would appear that someone is seeking revenge against me for some perceived wrong. We don’t know who, but as you suggested, Kimberly, process of elimination should be able to tell us more. For now, what we do know is that this person has been planning this for a long time. At least a year and a half, more likely two years.”
“Eighteen to twenty-four months?” Kimberly was genuinely shocked.
“We think he started with Mandy,” Rainie said. “Maybe targeted her through an AA meeting. Things progressed from there.”
“Her new boyfriend,” Kimberly filled in. “She mentioned something once, but I didn’t pay much attention. Boyfriends . . . There were a lot of them.”
“It would seem that he positioned himself to be someone very special,” Quincy agreed. “They dated for months. Mandy trusted him. Maybe she even fell in love.”
“But the accident,” Kimberly protested. “She’d been drinking, she was behind the wheel. She’d done that kind of thing before. What did it have to do with him?”
Rainie spoke up. “We think he was with her that night. According to one friend, Mandy may have started drinking early in the evening. I’m not sure I trust the ‘friend,’ however, so Mandy may have still been sober when she met up with her boyfriend, and he was the one who got her intoxicated. Either way, our mystery