The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [88]
Quincy set down his mug hard on the old table. Hot coffee sloshed over the edges. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“At the time, I thought it was stress related. The situation with Mandy, I’ve been carrying a heavy course load plus the internship . . . It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that I’m telling you now and that maybe it wasn’t all in my head. Maybe it wasn’t stress induced—”
“He’s been watching you,” Quincy said flatly. “Some man has been stalking my daughter and you didn’t even tell me!”
“I carry Mace! I pay attention to the people around me. I make eye contact. You can’t hold my hand, Dad, and you can’t always protect me—”
“Like hell! It’s my job and what’s the purpose of all these years of training if I can’t protect my own family?”
“No father can protect his family. All children grow up. It’s what we do.”
“I’m a professional—”
“You’re human, just like all other fathers.”
“You should have told me—”
“So, I’m human, just like all other daughters.”
“Dammit, I’m sick of this!” Quincy roared.
“Good, I am, too!” his daughter yelled back. “So let’s catch this son of a bitch, so I can return to my classes and finish up my degree. Then I’ll join law enforcement, neglect my own family, and the cycle will be complete!”
Quincy pressed his lips into a thin line. He opened his mouth, shut it. Opened his mouth, then shut it again. Finally, he picked up his mug of coffee and stared at the rain-splattered window.
“You know,” Rainie said, “these family moments are very touching.”
“I may have a lead,” Quincy said thirty minutes later. The clock had now struck two. By some unspoken agreement, it appeared that none of them were going to bed. Quincy’s 10mm sat on the kitchen table for easy access. They’d drawn all the blinds, then dimmed the overhead lights to prevent their silhouettes from standing out against the shades. The storm still raged. They’d tried the Weather Channel once, which told them things should clear up by morning. In their current mood, Rainie wasn’t sure any of them believed that.
“What did you learn?” she asked Quincy. Kimberly was no longer making eye contact with her father. Rainie decided they could all use some rest.
“An agent working this case, Albert Montgomery, has a bone to pick with me. He worked the Sanchez case first. He screwed up, however, and the Bureau gave the case to me.”
“What was the Sanchez case?” Kimberly asked.
“Fifteen years ago, California. Sanchez and his cousin were murdering young prostitutes. Eight of them. Sometimes . . . they held the girls for a while.”
“Oh,” Kimberly said. “The cassette tapes.”
“You listened to them?”
Kimberly shrugged. “Mandy did. She had an obsession with your work. When you were gone . . .”
“Oh for God’s sake—”
“So,” Rainie interjected, in her new role as peacekeeper. “Montgomery is on the case, but not in your corner.”
Quincy turned back toward her. His gaze was blazing, his face gaunt. “In Montgomery’s view, my success with the Sanchez case made his own failings even more glaring. Let’s just say that when the supposed ‘evidence’ reports finally come in from Philadelphia, I wouldn’t count on his support. In fact, I’m relatively sure he’ll be the first to lead the lynching.”
“Not much time,” Kimberly whispered.
“No,” Quincy said bluntly. “I give it three days. Then the first wave of lab reports will arrive and Everett will call me in. That’s that.”
“Well,” Rainie said briskly. “Let’s keep focused then. I also managed to make progress today. I met with the president of Mandy’s AA chapter, William Zane. He confirms that she befriended someone at the meetings, but the man doesn’t sound anything like what I expected—he’s described as being five ten, balding, overweight, and prone to rumpled suits.”
“I thought Mom’s neighbor reported a guy who was tall, well-dressed, and handsome,” Kimberly interjected.
“Exactly. But the sightings were twenty months apart, which could mean the man has the ability