The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [69]
“He was with her when she crashed?”
“Yes.”
“Oh my God, he killed that old man!” Kimberly slapped a hand over her mouth in horror. She didn’t know why, but somehow that was worse. Mandy was Mandy. She’d built an entire lifestyle on poor decisions and high-risk behavior. When her mother had called her the morning after the accident, Kimberly hadn’t even been surprised. Instead, she remembered thinking, finally, as if part of her had been waiting for that phone call for years. Mandy was always on a course for heartbreak and disaster. That poor old man, however, had just been out walking his dog.
“She didn’t die, though,” Kimberly said after a moment, pulling herself together. “Mandy didn’t actually die. Not then. Shouldn’t that have panicked him?”
“Even if she came out of the coma, what would she know? What would she remember?” Rainie shrugged. “Her body might have recovered, but her brain . . .”
“So he was safe.”
“I think things pretty much went as he planned.”
“But what about Mom? I can see Mandy being sweet-talked, but not Mom. Definitely not Mom.”
“Think of the circumstances,” Rainie countered. “Bethie’s just buried her older daughter. She’s feeling lonely, struggling to cope. Then we have this man, Tristan Shandling, who dated your sister for months. Consider all the things he could have learned about your mother from Mandy in that amount of time. Her taste in music, food, clothes. Likes, dislikes. It becomes a pretty simple equation. Vulnerable, grieving mother. Well-informed, charming man. I doubt she had a chance.”
“I think he went a step further to gain Bethie’s trust,” Quincy said. “I think . . . I think he might have pretended to have received an organ transplant. From Mandy.”
“What?” Both Rainie and Kimberly stared at him.
“The last time I spoke with Bethie, she asked me about organ donation. Was there any chance the recipient received more than just tissue? Couldn’t he maybe get some of the person’s habits or feelings or soul? At the time, I dismissed it. It was only today when I had to wonder why she asked.”
“My God,” Rainie murmured. “Elizabeth gave permission to terminate her daughter’s life just weeks ago, and now here comes this man, claiming to have part of Mandy inside of him.”
“It’s very clever,” Quincy said.
“It’s the domino theory,” Kimberly declared. “He started with the weakest one—Mandy. Got to her, then used the trauma of her death to get to Mother and now . . . now—” She looked at her father and knew his grim face was a match for her own.
“Shit!” Rainie abruptly bolted off the sofa, staring at them both wildly. “The frame-up, Quincy. What we were talking about earlier. Even if it’s not perfect, it doesn’t matter—it still gets the job done. Think about it! Bethie’s been murdered. As her ex-husband, you’re already on the cops’ radar screen, give them a few more lab results and you’ll be their number one man. There you go. Mandy’s death to access Bethie, Bethie’s murder to lead to your arrest, and then boom—Kimberly’s all alone. It’s perfect!”
“But . . . but you can make bail, right?” Kimberly asked desperately.
Quincy was staring at Rainie. He looked stunned. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered to his daughter. “Rainie’s right. The minute I become a lead suspect, they’ll notify the Bureau. And following standard protocol, the Bureau will place me on desk duty, ask for my creds and confiscate my weapon. Even if I stay out of jail, what will I be able to do to protect you? My God, he’s done his homework.”
“Who the fuck is this person?” Kimberly screamed.
Nobody had an answer.
18
Greenwich Village, New York City
Things got worse. Quincy wanted his daughter shipped to Europe. Kimberly yelled that she wouldn’t go. Quincy told her now was not the time to be arrogant. Kimberly started laughing, accused the pot of calling the kettle black, then her laughter