The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [78]
“I’m supposedly the smart one,” Kimberly murmured softly, still thinking out loud. “That’s what Mandy and my mom would have told him. I’m the serious one, the one who’s always wanted to join law enforcement. The one who started taking martial arts at the age of eight, who likes tackle football and guns . . .” Her voice trailed off, her mind already forming a connection with one new person in her life. A charming gun pro who just happened to join her rifle association six months earlier. Doug James.
“You have an idea?”
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
“Better to be safe than sorry, Miss Quincy.”
She smiled. “That’s the first platitude I’ve ever heard from you. I didn’t know that you knew any. Then again, duly noted.”
Dr. Andrews smiled. “You’re leaving, yes? I assume that is what you’re here to tell me. Strategic retreat is a perfectly valid option.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone.”
“Understandable.”
“I can’t tell you where I’m going.”
“Did you hear me asking?”
“You . . . you should probably find another intern. I mean, I would understand . . .”
“At this late date? Bah. I can read my own notes for a change. Might do me a world of good. Jumping to obvious conclusions. Next thing you know I’ll be dreaming of the Washington Monument and blaming everything on my toilet training.”
“Dr. Andrews . . . Thank you.”
“Miss Quincy, it has been a pleasure.”
There was nothing left to say. Kimberly rose. Held out her hand. Across the desk, Dr. Andrews also stood and extended his hand. Kimberly was touched by how grave he appeared.
“One last piece of advice?” he asked solemnly.
“Of course.”
“Law enforcement, Miss Quincy. This man, he seems to specialize in identifying his victim’s vulnerability, the thing she thinks she needs or admires most. For you, it’s law enforcement. You have an inherent trust and respect for anyone wearing a badge.”
“Point taken.” Kimberly hesitated. It was silly to say what she was going to say next. But then, she felt that she must. Day One, she thought. My sister is gone, my mother is dead, and I am learning to question everything. Her gaze went to the window, now robbed of the light of day. Outside, a car backfired, sounding like a gunshot on the crowded streets.
“Dr. Andrews,” she said quietly. “If anything should happen, can you tell my father something for me? Tell him the last person I saw this evening was a newly hired instructor at my gun club. Tell him I met a man named Doug James.”
1
William Zane’s Office, Virginia
“I want a name.”
“Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of AA; we don’t give out that kind of information.”
“Fine. Screw the name; it’s probably just an alias anyway. I want a description.”
“And one more time, anonymity is the spiritual foundation of AA. We don’t give out that kind of information.”
“Mr. Zane, this is a homicide investigation. You give me information now, quietly, or to the police later as part of an official investigation that will be reported to the press. Now, do you want to provide one man’s description as a private exchange between you and me, or do you want word to get out that some psychopathic killer is using AA meetings to select his victims?”
William Zane, president of Mandy’s AA chapter, finally hesitated. He was a big guy. Six one, two hundred and forty pounds. He wore a suit that screamed investment banker and carried himself in a way that suggested he was accustomed to people doing exactly what he said. Rainie figured he had at least three ex-wives and one helluva cocaine habit somewhere in his past. In theory, he was clean now and did an impeccable job of running the AA meetings. Someday, she’d be sure to send him a Hallmark card congratulating him on being such a nicely reformed human being. At the moment, however, she simply wanted the name and description of Amanda’s “friend” at the AA meetings.
It was six P.M. Thursday, nearly twelve hours until departure to the relative safety of Portland, and for no good reason, Rainie was increasingly worried about Kimberly. In other words, she didn’t feel like dicking around.