The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [91]
“Doesn’t sound like it was your father’s fault.”
“I was a boy. My father had the power to make everything right, ergo he was also responsible for everything that went wrong. I used to ask him why she died. He always gave me the same answer. ‘Because she did.’”
“Shit happens,” Rainie said.
“Yes, the swamp Yankee version of shit happens. It took me years to realize it was the best answer he could give. Sometimes there’s simply no reason for why things happen. What is karma to a little boy? What is the divine wisdom of God? What is the fecklessness of fate? Why did my mother die? Because she did. In his own way, my father was teaching me a very important lesson.”
Rainie didn’t say anything.
“Mandy didn’t deserve to die,” Quincy said. “Bethie didn’t deserve to die, and my father didn’t deserve to die. Shit didn’t happen. One man did.”
“We’ll find him, Quincy.”
“I’m going to kill him, Rainie. I spent four years being trained to heal as a psychologist, and the thought doesn’t bother me. I’m going to find him and kill him. What does that make me?”
She hesitated. “Vengeful,” she said at last.
He nodded as the plane finally powered up and prepared for ascent. He said, “I can live with that.”
25
Bakersville, Oregon
Sheriff Luke Hayes lounged against his patrol car outside of Martha’s Diner, looking deceptively sleepy in the midday heat. Standing at five nine, with rapidly thinning hair and a featherweight’s wiry frame, he didn’t possess the kind of physical presence that immediately struck fear in a suspect’s heart. It wasn’t a problem, however. For one thing, he hit harder than most timbermen. For another thing, he moved three times as fast. Word generally spread pretty quick. See that bald guy? Don’t go after him or he’ll whip your ass. Hey, it was bad enough to go down in a bar brawl, let alone to be publicly dropped by a guy roughly half your body weight and possessing only a tenth of your hair.
By far, Luke’s best feature was his eyes. He possessed a pair of riveting baby blues that soothed enraged housewives, calmed rifle-toting drunks, and pacified screaming kids. A suspect had once accused him of practicing major mojo with his gaze. Luke didn’t think he possessed any special magic. He was just a naturally calm guy with a solid, even temperament. You’d be surprised how many women dug that.
His eyes weren’t visible at the moment. They were closed against the white-hot sun, his face turned up slightly as if seeking a cooling breeze. The coastal air was flat today, however. Stagnant. He sighed heavily.
His head came down. He opened his eyes. And found Rainie standing in front of him.
“Another busy day in Bakersville,” she said dryly.
“Gonna be a fight by six. Probably two fights if this heat keeps up.”
“Maybe you should give up law enforcement. Sell air-conditioning units instead.”
“It’s not half-bad an idea. I could start by giving myself one. Hello, Rainie. Good to see you again.”
He held out his hand. She clasped it warmly and didn’t immediately let go. He thought she looked tired. Her cheeks had that gaunt look she always got when she was pushing herself too hard. She was a beautiful woman, always had been in a striking sort of way. Wide cheekbones, full lips, soft gray eyes. But her body was slimmer now, rangy like a fighter’s. And she’d cut off all her rich, chestnut hair, giving herself some spiky city do when he could’ve told her that half the men in Bakersville dreamed about that long, lush hair. The feel of it in their hands. The look of it, pooled on their pillows. Pipe dreams, of course. But nice ones during the gray Oregon winters.
“Sheriff uniform suits you,” Rainie said.
Luke puffed out his chest. “I’m a stud.”
She laughed. “All the nice Protestant ladies are lining up their daughters just for you?”
“Tough to be a hero, but somebody’s got to do it.”
“God, I miss this place.”
“Yeah, Rainie. We’ve missed you, too.”
They went into the diner. Carl Mitz wasn’t due to show up for another hour. By mutual agreement, they slid into their old booth and ordered a late lunch/early