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The problem was—you had adrenaline when you were racing. Now she had tonothave adrenaline, or not show it.
“Samantha,” she called out as the other woman approached the door of her building. “Hey.”
Samantha looked nothing but surprised. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been asking myself that,” Quinn said. “I guess just—looking for a sympathetic ear. I was hoping you’d be home. I was about to come ring your doorbell, in fact. Do you think I could come up for another cup of tea? I promise not to take too long. It’s just—I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about this.” Which wasn’t true. She’d slept great. Not for twelve hours, but for a good ten. Andhadwoken up with a clearer mind.
Samantha hesitated, and Quinn said, “I know you’re probably tired. Your job has to be so hard. You’re probably fried after doing that all night, plus driving to and from the airport. Just doing that would fryme.”
“Not really, no,” Samantha said. “Air-traffic controllers like driving. We don’t like the stupid things other drivers do, because we can see the patterns at a glance and we know they’re stuffing up, but we don’t have many accidents, and we don’t worry about them.” She put her key in the lock. “Come up, if you like. I went out for breakfast, or I’d offer you some.”
“Oh, no, thanks. I’ve eaten.”
Samantha said, once they were inside, “I take the stairs. Use the lift, if you like.”
“Oh, wow,” Quinn said. “That’s ambitious. I’ll try it. Good for me, I’m sure.”
Six flights up, and she hung back and made her breathing deeper and deeper until, by the end, she was gasping, holding the rail, and a full floor behind Samantha. “Wow,” she got out when she’d finally dragged herself to the top, bending over and putting her hands on her knees. Bonus—that would make her face red. “You’re in great shape. I didn’t think I was that bad. I do yoga three times a week.”
Samantha smiled faintly. “It takes more than that.” She opened the door to her apartment.
Quinn asked, “Would you have a paper towel? I’m so sweaty. Or—can I use the bathroom again?”
“Go ahead,” Samantha said. Fortunately, Quinn actuallywassweaty. She was not used to this climate.
This time, when she went into the bedroom, she closed the door most of the way behind her. Casually. She used the bathroom, then kept the water in the sink running, opened the door, and peered out. The bedroom door was still at the same angle.
Now or never.She was here. She had to at least check. She dashed across to the bed and pulled open the top nightstand drawer. Tylenol. More antacids. The second drawer. Phone cords and electronics.
Across to the other side, the sweat starting for real. Magazines in the top drawer. In the deeper second one, something in a pink case that she opened, her heart hammering, and found was a vibrator—thanks to Beckett, she now knew what sex toys looked like—and a lumpy cloth bag that was tied shut. She picked it up and felt around it fast, but there was nothing pill-bottle-like. Also in the drawer: a big tube of lube, a sleep mask, a fly swatter, a coil of rope, and a feather duster. Well,thatwas a weird combination of objects. She picked up the feather duster to make sure there was nothing underneath it, then closed the drawer. Another quick dash to the bathroom to shut off the water, and she came out of the bedroom, drying her hands on her pants.
Samantha handed her a cup of tea. “I’m going to change. Won’t be a sec.”
“Oh, OK,” Quinn said, horribly relieved that Samantha hadn’t come in to do that while Quinn was checking out her sex toys. “Take your time.” Too late, she remembered Samantha’s meticulous placement of magazines. The cups in her cupboard were all lined up with their handles facing the same way. She probably had her sex toys lined up, too. What if she opened the drawer?
She’s not going to open the drawer. What, right now? This is her moment to take inventory?She reminded herself that Beckett was listening and focused on staying calm.
Samantha was back in about three minutes. Loose trousers and tight T-shirt, as before. “I heard you talked to Victor last night,” she said, sliding onto a stool beside Quinn. “He said you were odd. Nervy. That you were flirting, and then you ran off at the last.” She laughed. “Don’t exactly have nerves of steel, do you?”
“No, unfortunately,” Quinn said. “Like I told you. I didn’t think he’d talk to me unless I was, well … a little forward. Plus, he’s so good-looking, isn’t he? And a doctor. So hot. I couldn’t help it, to tell you the truth. Besides, I really do need to know. I need to be sure, about Beckett. What if I’m wrong? What if he—” She broke off. “But anyway. That was why.”
“Oh, no worries,” Samantha said. “I’m sure he loved it. You didn’t actually try to pinch my bloke, so it’s all good.”
“Oh,” Quinn said. “I thought you said you—”
“Well, yeah,” Samantha said. “We’re on again, off again. He’s good value, though.”
“He said you’d been friends a long time,” Quinn said, which wasn’t true, but …
“Yeah,” Samantha said. “Three or four years now.”
“Since before your incident,” Quinn said. “The one you mentioned to me.”
“I guess,” Samantha said, “though it wasn’t ‘my incident.’ Nothing to do with me, really. Pilot being stupid. Not much you can do about that.”
“He said something last night,” Quinn said. “Victor. Something that didn’t make sense.”
“Oh, really?” Samantha took another sip of tea. If she was rattled, she wasn’t letting on.
