The Truth Seeker

  She frowned as she looked at his hands, thinking about it. He laughed and wiggled his fingers. “Come on.”

  Her hands slid into his and he felt how cold they were. He reassuringly grasped her hands, careful how he held her injured one, and pulled her up. As soon as she was steady, she removed her hands from his and pressed one against her left ribs.

  “Aches?”

  “Every time I breathe,” she admitted. “Want to do me a favor?”

  “If it’s not going to get me into trouble with one of your brothers.”

  She tipped her head and smiled at him. He was a goner for that smile even if she didn’t know it. “What do you need? Maybe we can just not tell them.”

  “I’ve been craving a milkshake. Kate won’t tell.”

  Not exactly what her doctor had in mind. And she needed something hot.

  “It’s practically all milk,” she offered.

  “I don’t suppose it will kill you.”

  “Fix it while I peek in on my pets?”

  He laughed. “Sure. Go on.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” he replied dryly. “Go.”

  He watched her walk slowly down the hall and enter the spare bedroom she had turned into a home for all the living things she collected. He shook his head. She was a walking contradiction—annoyed at him one minute, flashing that smile the next.

  He went through the dining room to the kitchen and opened the freezer. Vanilla or chocolate? He thought about asking, then decided he might as well make his favorite. He opened the chocolate ice cream.

  He fixed two milkshakes, cleaned up the counter, then dug around in the drawers for two straws. He carried the glasses with him to find Lisa. She already had a habit of forgetting to eat when she worked, and the last several days had been little more than IVs; the calories would do her good.

  Quinn stopped at the doorway, watching her. She was in her element with things that crawled and swam.

  The mice were awake, three adorable white and one sleek brown tumbling over the hollow climbing blocks she’d carved. Sliding aside the mesh top of the cage, Lisa took a moment to reach inside and greet them. They scampered across her palm and tickled her fingers. She refilled their water, then closed the cage lid.

  “Where did you find the brown one?”

  “A neighbor’s pet; Scott was moving and couldn’t take it with him.”

  She opened the jar of fish food flakes for the guppies she was raising. He had taken the time yesterday to clean the tank, change the filter, and replace the evaporated water. With close to two dozen baby guppies swimming among the upper leaves of the plants it had been an experience. He didn’t think he’d accidentally killed more than a couple. As she closed the cover the fish began to grab the flakes, shaking off smaller pieces.

  “Hi, Truebody.” Lisa tapped on the glass of the second fish tank. The praying mantis moved up the twig it clung to toward the light. She lingered over the third large tank, talking to the iguana. Oscar was one of her favorites.

  In the next cage a hamster pushed its way out of a burrow of shredded white paper. “Baby, what have they been feeding you?” The hamster had grown fat in the last ten days—very fat.

  “Kate thinks she’s pregnant.”

  “Really? Oh that will be so cool. I hope she has several.” She tilted her head to look at him. “You know, you could do with a pet . . . ”

  He laughed. “On a ranch the size of mine, it has to be able to fend for itself.”

  “Nothing smaller than a breadbasket?”

  “Not unless it can outrun a wolf.”

  The parrot whistled, stalking back and forth. “I haven’t forgotten you, Iris,” Lisa reassured. She opened the cage door and offered her hand. The bird stepped up gracefully and ducked its head as Lisa brought her out of the cage. “Did you miss me?”

  The bird shook her head and fluffed her feathers.

  “Yes, you did, I recognize that huff.” She stroked the bird’s chest and it preened and cooed back at her.

  “A dangerous pet to have, given your others.”

  “I know. But we’ve got an understanding, don’t we, girl? She got loose at the pet store and sort of chose me. Landed right on my shoulder.”

  He didn’t miss the way her voice softened at that statement.

  She put Iris back in her cage and folded down the cover to tuck the bird in for the night. “It looks like everyone lived through my absence.”

  “We tried, although I’m glad you said the grade school had taken the mole.”

  “Charlie was adorable.”

  “If you say so.” He held out the second glass he carried. “One milkshake.”

  “Thanks.” She took it, sampled it, and nodded her appreciation. “Good.”

  Sidney was awake and ringing the small bell attached to the top of his cage. Lisa knelt down, picked up one of the empty paper towel tubes stacked on the supply shelf, and offered it to him. The ferret stood on his back legs to grasp it and haul it back into his cage. He proceeded to push his head inside and wiggle his body through it, chattering in a high pitch as he rolled. He reappeared, grabbed it with his feet, and tumbled it around.

  “He loves those things.”

  “Almost as much as he does things he can chase.” She got to her feet. “I appreciate the time you and Kate took.”

  “We didn’t mind. Although I’m pretty sure Kate drowned your plants.”

  She laughed, then groaned at the pain it caused. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I need to sit down.” She waved him back toward the living room. “You never did tell me what they discovered at the house.”

  He shortened his stride to match her slow walk, glad to see her balance was improving. “The major beam under the bedroom had cracked. When it gave way, the flooring and hallway folded and collapsed into the den. Unfortunately, you were in the hallway at the time.”

  “It wasn’t somewhere I stepped?”

  “No.”

  “Well at least that’s nice to know.” She gestured with her glass to the briefcase by the door. “Is the Hampton file Jack brought over in there?”

  “Lisa.”

  “I want to see it, just for a minute.”

  He opened her briefcase and got the case file. They had autopsied the burned cat Walter Hampton had gone to retrieve. He waited until she had eased herself down on the couch. “You don’t need to do this now.”

  “Quinn.”

  He reluctantly handed her the folder. She flipped through to read the lab results. He already knew them. He was prepared for the disquiet in her eyes when she finally looked over at him.

  “The cat showed no signs of a sleeping pill.”

  “No.”

  “I got hurt for nothing,” she said softly.

  “The toxicology was run several days after the fact. It was a stretch to consider something would be found.”

  She shook her head. “The pill wouldn’t have had time to entirely dissolve, and even crushed it would have been so concentrated it would have still been there in measurable doses, fire or not.” She dropped the folder and rubbed her eyes. “I went out in the field on another of my hunches, determined to check the scene, and got myself hurt. It wouldn’t be funny if this weren’t what . . . the fifth time?”

  He perched on the arm of the couch. “You wouldn’t have been doing your job if you didn’t pursue what was a logical question. And there’s still an open question of why the cat didn’t escape the room.”

  “As Jack says—pets die in fires. There’s not enough to say it was a suicide. In a way I’m glad I was wrong; it’s awful to put a family through that.”

  She rested her head back against the sofa, studying him. “I haven’t told you thanks for what you did. I knew when I saw your face that it was pretty bad. I’m sorry; I should have told you thanks ages ago.”

  His hand tightened on the glass he held so he wouldn’t reach out and rub her slight frown away. “You’re welcome.”

&nbs
p; “I would wake up sometimes late at night and see you there beside the hospital bed praying.”

  He stilled. “Did you?” He’d been praying all right, scared to death the infection would spread, that the antibiotics wouldn’t work, that he’d lose someone more precious to him than any lady he could remember.

  “That was . . . nice of you.”

  “It’s okay, Lisa. I know you don’t believe.” He’d watched her for years, putting together pieces and glimpses of her past, trying to understand why she appeared so indifferent when the topic of faith was mentioned. She was normally so curious about every subject under discussion. It frustrated him because he wanted to change it but couldn’t figure out how.

  “I think it helped.”

  She seemed bothered by that more than pleased, and his eyes sharpened as he searched her face, absorbing that impression, testing it. She shouldn’t be reacting that way. “Well I had a vested interest,” he said lightly. “Not having you around to bug me would have been a bummer.”

  “No, I mean it. The pain would be bad, I’d wake up and see you praying, then it would ease away before I could page a nurse for more pain medication.”

  “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, I am. I nearly told Jennifer.”

  He reached over and wiped away a tear as it slipped from the corner of her eye and down her cheek. “Tell her. And I’ll keep praying for her.” It was killing him to have Jennifer sick; he could only imagine what facing that was doing to Lisa.

  “Thanks.” She wiped away the other threatening tears and gave a rueful smile.

  He wished she believed. Jennifer did, Dave and Kate, Marcus. It brought a strength and a peace and certain knowledge of the Resurrection. Lisa didn’t have that hope, and she so desperately needed it.

  He’d survived the death of his father because of his faith. Without that hope . . . But the solution was not going to be as simple as he had thought, as simple as convincing her to come to church with them and hear the truth. There was ancient hurt there, buried deep in those blue eyes he had thought he understood.

  “Did I hear you’ve got a scrapbook?” he asked to help her out.

  “A few of them.”

  “Jen could use one for all the cards and gift notes she’s receiving from friends and former patients. I thought of it when I saw her hospital room.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  “She’ll be out of the hospital soon. She’s headed toward a remission.” He had to keep believing that, for Lisa’s sake as much as his own. He didn’t want her to have to bear the loss of Jennifer, would do anything to protect her from that if he could.

  “Maybe,” she said, but it was filled with doubt. She set aside her glass, and her expression lightened, became almost humorous, as she studied him. “You look exhausted.”

  “I always look tired,” he replied, amused at the doctor’s tone she reverted to on occasion with him. “Trying to sleep in the city is like sleeping in a bright noise factory.”

  She laughed, groaned, then frowned at him for causing it. “Do me one more favor. Go back to your hotel, dig out a bed, and sleep for twelve hours. You really do look like one of the walking dead.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll call it a night if you promise me you won’t even think about going anywhere tomorrow. If you won’t give yourself a week at home, at least make it a few days before you go back to the office.”

  “I can sit there as well as here.”

  “I’m serious. It’s too early. You’ll just give yourself a relapse.”

  “I already promised Marcus I’d stay home tomorrow, make it a half day Wednesday.”

  “Good enough.”

  The patio door slid open and Dave and Kate rejoined them, Kate laughing as she tried to untangle herself from Dave’s arms. “Lisa, one of your neighbors has a dog that’s baying at the moon.”

  “That’s Wilfred. He’s English.”

  “Who, the neighbor or the dog?” Kate asked, dissolving into a fit of giggles as Dave scooped her up. “Would you put me down?”

  “Not till you admit I was right.”

  “Lisa, tell him bats don’t fly this far north. He swears one was going to land in my hair, and he had to protect me.”

  “Actually . . . ” Lisa looked at Dave to get the right answer, “they do occasionally. The brown wedge-wing bat is native to Ohio and does come into Illinois.”

  Dave grinned over at her, then looked back at Kate. “See?”

  “Oh, you—”

  He stole a kiss and set her down. “I’d better get going. Lisa, it’s a delight to have you home.”

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  “I’ll walk out with you,” Quinn decided, retrieving his hat. He didn’t want to leave, but as much as he’d like to take advantage of Lisa’s lowered guard and risk asking a few questions, a sense of fairness wouldn’t let him do it. “Lisa—” what he would’ve liked to say she wasn’t ready yet to hear—“take care. I’ll see you later.”

  “Good night, Quinn.”

  He turned the lock on the front doorknob. “Kate?”

  “I’ll get the dead bolt.”

  He nodded his thanks and stepped out with Dave.

  “A nice night,” Dave commented, pulling out his keys.

  “Beautiful,” Quinn agreed, looking up at the full moon.

  “Heading back to your hotel? Or do you want to join us down at the gym?”

  The late night basketball games were a tradition when the O’Malleys were in the same city. It was a good way to deal with the stress. “Another time.”

  “If you change your mind, we’ve got the court till eleven.”

  Quinn unlocked the door to his rental car. What he would really like was a four-hour horseback ride checking fence line—a chance to think, let a week of stress bleed off, and figure out what to do next.

  He’d pass on the basketball game; the O’Malleys were too perceptive. Marcus and Kate already knew where his interests lay, and the others would figure it out. The last thing he needed was Lisa feeling pressure from her family.

  He started the car, turned on the lights, and waited for Dave to pull out. Quinn held up a hand in farewell as the car lights crossed his back window.

  Dave turned left at the thoroughfare and Quinn turned right. He was staying at the Radisson Hotel downtown near the regional marshals’ office. To break the absolute silence in the car, he turned on the radio, changed it to FM, and found a country station. As he glanced back up he saw headlights flash in his rearview mirror. Someone else was leaving the subdivision.

  Traffic was light for a Monday evening, and out of habit he kept half his attention on the traffic behind him.

  He needed gas and a newspaper. He turned off at Route 43 and pulled into a new gas and convenience store at the corner of Sherman and Waukegan. All the pumps were free and he pulled to a stop at the first. Ten minutes later, having paid for the gas and the newspaper, he walked back to his car.

  As he pulled back onto the road, a dark green Plymouth pulled out from the graphics art printing business across the street. It pulled across to his lane, two cars behind.

  Quinn adjusted the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing. Once was something to note, twice unusual, three times—he reached for his cellular phone. He entered his partner’s pager number, then punched in an added code unique to him. Interrupting a basketball game . . .

  His phone rang back moments later. “Hey, Quinn, coming to the game?” Marcus was breathing hard. “Adam and I have got Stephen and Jack on the ropes. We could use your awesome defense in center.”

  “I’ve got a tail.”

  “Where are you?” Marcus asked, his voice instantly turning serious.

  “Waukegan Road, just passing the railroad tracks. I’ll be at Willow soon. I’m going to divert north on Sunset. See if you can pick him up.”

  “Same dark green Plymouth?”

  “Hanging two back.” Quinn remove
d his Glock and slid it under the newspaper on the seat beside him. There was a sense of cold anger settling inside. “I think he tagged me at Lisa’s subdivision.”

  “We’re moving. Stay on the phone.”

  When Quinn had left after a visit to the bookstore where Amy Ireland Nugan had held her signing, he had noticed the Plymouth behind him. It had been there again three days ago across from the hospital.

  Lisa’s subdivision.

  He’d just put her in danger. “Marcus, get someone on a phone to Kate, tell her to be on her guard. Just don’t let Lisa know.”

  “Dave just walked in, he’s already calling.”

  Quinn turned north on Sunset and watched as the Plymouth also turned, now directly behind him. The front license plate was gone. Looking back into the car headlights there was no way to identify the driver; he couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman, and he had learned the hard way not to assume.

  The tail was making no attempt to keep back at a safe distance. “I’m coming up on Route 68.”

  “Don’t risk the Edens, head east into Glencoe and come south on Green Bay Road. There’ll be enough traffic we should be able to get near him. Dave and I will try to get beside and behind him.”

  “I’m heading for Green Bay.”

  Quinn wanted to slam on his brakes and catch the driver by surprise; he forced himself to be patient and wait on backup. Why a tail in Chicago? Why across from the hospital? There were always men being released from prison who would be more than happy to make trouble for him, but there had been no release bulletins mentioning cases from here.

  Had something in Lincoln’s investigation caught someone’s attention? He didn’t see what it could be. And if Lincoln had picked up a tail, he would have mentioned it.

  “We’re on Green Bay, coming up on Tower Road,” Marcus said. “Where are you?”

  “Turning on Green Bay . . . now,” Quinn replied, using the brief moment in the turn under the streetlights to try and see the driver of the other car.

  The Plymouth suddenly accelerated through the intersection and turned north.