The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [7]
“Quincy, this isn’t a case. This is one of the five stages of grief. You know—denial.”
Rainie tried to utter the words gently, but they came out bald, and almost immediately, Quincy was pissed off. His lips thinned. His eyes grew darker, his features harsher. For the most part, Quincy was an academic, prone to approaching the world as a puzzle to be analyzed and solved. But he was also a hunter; Rainie had seen that side of him, too. Once—their final evening together—she had fingered the scars on his chest.
“I want to know what happened the last night of my daughter’s life,” Quincy uttered firmly, precisely. “I’m asking you to look into it. I’m willing to pay your fees. Now, will you take the case or not?”
“Oh for God’s sake.” Rainie bolted out of her chair. She paced the room a few times so he wouldn’t see how mad he’d just made her, then said sourly, “You know I’ll help you, and you know I won’t take your damn money.”
“It’s a case, Rainie. A simple case, and you don’t owe me anything.”
“Bullshit! It’s another bread crumb you’re tossing my way and we both know it. You’re an FBI agent. You have access to your own crime lab; you have one hundred times the number of contacts I do.”
“All of whom will want to know why I’m asking questions. All of whom will pry into my family’s life and will sit in judgment of my concerns, even if they are too polite to accuse me of denial.”
“I’m only saying—”
“I know I’m in denial! I’m her father, for God’s sake. Of course I’m in denial. But I’m also a trained investigator, just like you, Rainie, and something about this stinks. Look me in the eye and tell me it doesn’t stink.”
Rainie stopped. She mutinously looked him in the eye. Then she wished she hadn’t, because his jaw was tight and his hands were clenched into fists, and dammit she liked him when he was like this. The rest of the world could have composed, professional Pierce Quincy. She wanted this man. At least she had.
“Did you ask the DA to drop the charges against me?” she demanded.
“What?”
“Did you ask the DA to drop the charges against me?”
“No.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “Rainie, I’m the one who told you to go through with the trial, that it was probably the best way to put the past behind you. Why would I then interfere?”
“Fine, I’ll take your case.”
“What?”
“I’ll take your case! Four hundred dollars a day, plus expenses. And I don’t know beans about Virginia or motor vehicle accident investigation, so no accusing me later of not having enough experience. I’m telling you now, I’m inexperienced, and it’s still going to cost you four hundred dollars a day.”
“There you go with that charm again.”
“I’m a fast learner. We both know I’m a fast learner.” She said that more savagely than she’d intended. Quincy’s face nearly softened, then he caught himself.
“Deal,” he said crisply. He picked up his jacket, drew out a manila envelope and dropped it on her glass coffee table. “There’s the accident report. It includes the name of the investigating officer. I’m sure you’ll want to start with him.”
“Jesus, Quincy, you shouldn’t be reading that.”
“She’s my daughter, Rainie; it’s the only thing I can do for her anymore. Now, come on, I’m buying.”
“Buying what?”
“Dinner. It’s too damn hot in here, Rainie, and you really need to put on some clothes.”
“Just for that, I’m wearing the tank top to dinner. And as long as you’re buying, we’re going to Oba’s.”
2
Pearl District, Portland
One night out on the town, and it was easy to slip into old roles. Quincy sweeping into town and taking her out to an extravagant restaurant. Eating great food, tropical shrimp ceviche, rare ahi tuna, butternut squash enchiladas. Quincy drank two world-famous marionberry daiquiris, served in chilled martini glasses. Rainie stuck to water, because in a place like Oba’s