The Next Accident - Lisa Gardner [92]
“How’s Chuckie?” Rainie asked after ordering the Friday special—chicken-fried steak with extra gravy and garlic-mashed potatoes. Guaranteed to add an inch to your waistline, or your money back.
“Cunningham has settled down,” Luke answered. “Bit more confident these days. Plus, I think we’ve gone a whole month without him drawing down on some poor civvie whose only mistake was daring to run a red light during Chuckie’s shift.”
“He’s stopped attacking the taxpayers? That is progress. And the rest of the town?”
“One-year anniversary was tough,” Luke said softly. “Still a lot of paranoia, some bad blood. I hate to say it, but it’s probably a good thing Shep and Sandy moved away. I’m not sure folks could’ve handled it otherwise.”
“What a shame.”
“It’s human nature, Rainie. We’re all looking for something to believe in, and someone to blame.”
“Still—”
“We’re okay, Rainie. That’s the joy of small towns—even when we change, we don’t change. Now how about you?”
She didn’t say anything right away, which he had expected. She had always been a private person, even when it had been just her, him, and Shep, a three-man sheriff’s department united against the world. But then, that’s what Luke liked about Rainie. She could be moody. She possessed one hell of a temper. But you knew she’d get the job done. She showed up, she delivered, and when things had gotten rocky, Luke had been proud to have her in charge.
He’d been sad—no, he’d been angry—when the narrow-minded town council had demanded that she go. He had thought she’d put up more of a fight, and like a lot of folks in Bakersville, he’d been surprised, maybe even hurt, when she hadn’t.
“Quincy’s in trouble,” she said abruptly.
“I gathered that.”
“It’s . . . bad, Luke. Very bad.”
“Accident wasn’t an accident?”
She nodded. “Amanda was murdered by somebody out to get Quincy. Except it didn’t end there. The man then used her death to target Quincy’s ex-wife. Befriended her, romanced her, and slaughtered her, Luke. Absolutely butchered her. That crime scene was barely twenty-four hours old, before he kidnapped Quincy’s father.”
Luke arched a brow. “Bureau’s got to be involved,” he said tightly. He liked Quincy, seemed like a good guy. At least for a fed.
“Sure, the Bureau’s involved. Any day now, we think they’ll arrest Quincy.”
“What?”
“He’s been framed for the murder of his ex-wife. Did I mention that?”
“When G-men make enemies, they make enemies.” Luke was frowning. “How’s he holding up?”
“I don’t know.”
Luke’s frown deepened. “I thought you’d know better than most. Or has something changed?”
“For God’s sake, Luke, the man’s family is being hunted. We’re living Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. Now is not exactly the time to put him on a sofa and say, Hey, Quince, tell me how you really feel.”
“That’s convenient.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Her voice had picked up. Color stained her cheeks. This was supposed to intimidate him. Instead it simply made him feel better. Rainie needed some color in her cheeks. He only wished that he’d brought a box of #2 pencils for her to snap. For old times’ sake.
“I’m just saying—” he began mildly.
“Oh I heard what you were saying. Now I’m sorry I brought this up.”
“I would’ve brought it up if you didn’t,” he assured her. “That’s what friends are for.”
“Speaking of which, thanks for telling some Virginia cop that I have the hots for a fed.”
“You have the hots for a fed?”
“Luke Hayes—”
He was grinning and the sight of his amusement sent her temper spluttering. But then his grin faded, and he said a bit more honestly, a bit more gently, “Face it, you and Quincy have a genuine meeting of the minds. That’s serious shit, Rainie. You can go an entire lifetime without finding anyone who matches like that. I know I have.”
“Harumph,” Rainie said. She scowled, but Luke wasn’t fooled. He saw something in those wide gray eyes. Gratitude maybe. Or relief. Someone else thought she and Quincy could work out. Someone else believed the scrappy home-town girl was worthy of a fed.
You were bigger than