“That's me, going that extra mile to get the job done.” The real problem was her overblown sense of responsibility. It was no more her fault than Santa Claus, that Rebecca had stolen $25 million dollars from the University. She was nuts going after her. “How have you been? Your mother out of the hospital?”
“I'm fine, my mother's fine, but I'm not the one who got shot. How are you?”
“I'm okay. Ready to get back to work.”
“I talked to Agent Brown; he gave me the run down on the events in Rome. It was a stupid move on your part to exit the taxi.”
“In retrospect, you're right. But how was I to know she had a gun?”
“We're not sure she was the shooter. Did you see a gun in her hand?”
Quinn thought back to that day and how she exited the taxi. She remembered how Rebecca smiled and waved. Perhaps there had been regret in that smile. She'd never know.
“I don't recall her holding a gun.”
“The FBI thinks the shooter was her traveling companion,” Roddy pulled out his notebook, flipped pages. “One Curtis Otis Adams, a small-time thief here in Houston.”
“Why would Rebecca get involved with someone like that?” Another ridiculous question as she had no idea why Rebecca did anything. She grinned. “Sorry, dumb question. I guess if you're going to steal $25 million dollars, hooking up with another thief isn't much of a stretch.”
“Right you are.”
“Do you suppose he was involved in Bill's death?”
“Don't have any evidence that points to him. It's another story with Rebecca. We found her DNA at the scene and a neighbor witnessed Rebecca leaving Bill's house around the time of death.”
“I'm not surprised to hear that. What about Scooter? Do you really think his death was a overdose?” Quinn shivered at the thought of Scooter sticking a heroin-filled needle in his arm.
“The Vegas police did an autopsy and ruled his death a homicide. He had no trace of needle tracks consistent with a habitual drug user.”
“That's something positive then.” She rubbed her arm under the sling, it was itchy and hardly hurt, which was amazing, considering it had only been four days since the shooting. She'd be fit as a fiddle for work on Monday morning, ignoring the doctor's advice to stay home for a week. “Do you know anything about Scooter's funeral?”
“I believe it was this morning in Austin,” Roddy answered in a quiet voice. “I really am sorry about your boss.”
“Me, too, but I still don't understand why he was in Las Vegas. If it wasnât a family vacation like he told Ellie, why was he there?” She mentally slapped herself again. “Sorry, another dumb question, he was there because of Rebecca.” She was still tired. Her brain wasn't working at full speed due to an earlier pain pill.
“That's correct.” Roddy was silent for a moment. “They were having an affair.”
“Rebecca sure had it in for the HCU vice presidents. Was she involved with any of the others, or Dr. Arnold ?” She cringed at the thought of her involvement with Scooter. Maybe he had been going through a mid-life crisis.
“No, we speculate she plied her charms only to Bill and Scooter.”
“And they're both dead,” Quinn shivered again, poor Bill and poor Scooter, one a charmer and the other an anal accountant. “What about Rebecca? Has she been found?”
Roddy sighed. “She got away, again. The FBI is working with Interpol. They think she left Rome on a chartered plane.”
“I hope she's found soon.” Quinn yawned.
“I better let you get some rest. Don't worry about Rebecca, we'll get her.” He rose and kissed her cheek. “You rest, take it easy, I'll call if anything turns up.”
He let himself out the front door while Quinn leaned back and put her feet on the ottoman. She rubbed her eyes with her palms, blew out a breath, rubbed her itchy arm again. She needed to change the dressing and apply medicated cream. She sighed, closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek â feeling a bit sorry for herself.
The last two weeks had spun by like a whirlwind. Too much had transpired. Her life had changed, forever she feared. Would she be the same old Quinn or the woman who had slept with Logan Rice in a Rome hotel? The man who lied to her at a time when she was hell-bent on making decisions he was much better equipped to handle. He lied to her in making love like a man who cared for her. She didn't want to think about him again.
She'd go to work on Monday for an hour or two and her life would smooth back into normal mode. No surprises, no talk of the theft, and no thoughts that weren't good for her.
Monday, 10:00
A.M.
At her desk, Quinn spent two hours deleting email messages and shuffling through business mail. Her arm was sore but nothing she couldn't handle. Ruthie called to check on her. Quinn assured her friend that she was back in the saddle and things were fine. As she hung up the phone, she heard a knock and saw Dr. Arnold standing in the doorway of her office.
“Good morning, how are you feeling?”
“I'm fine.” She smiled, moved her left arm. “No broken bones.”
He shut the door behind him and sat in a chair. “Glad to see you're up and about. Although I'm not sure you should be back at work.”
“Not a problem, I need to catch up with two weeks' worth of work. I've cleared all my email. The revised budget is next.” Unfortunately, Scooter wasn't there to review the proposed adjustments. “I'll work on it by myself for now.”
“That's best,” he agreed. “Detective Phillips brought me up-to-date on the investigation. Now we wait for the authorities to find Rebecca.”
“That's all we can do.” Her stomach clenched. She had worked her ass off to deliver Rebecca to the police and she failed.
“The police wouldn't be where they are if you hadn't figured out how the wire instructions were changed and discovered Rebecca wasn't ill. And, the Franks check ⦠that was a stroke of genius.” He smiled broadly.
“Thanks.” Stroke of genius? That was a stretch but she did appreciate his praise.
“You're very welcome. There is something I must discuss with you.” His face shifted to serious mode.
“Okay.” She prayed he wouldn't fire her.
“I'm appointing you acting vice president of finance. I'll need to consult with the Board for a permanent replacement.”
Holy shit.
Stay cool. Dr. Arnold didn't need to know the level of her excitement. She hadn't even considered that Scooter's position would be open. There were so many things she'd change in the finance office, starting with â
“Quinn?”
She floated back to earth. “I'm honored to assume the position as acting VP of finance.” Her heart hurtled toward reality. “Thank you for your confidence in me.”
He rose, a smiled plastered on his face and shook her hand. “It's well deserved. I've scheduled a Council meeting for tomorrow morning. Ellie has the details. She'll also provide you with a key to Scooter's ⦠.” He stopped, regrouped. “Sorry, to the VP office. I think it's best for you to go through the desk. Also, I'll send you the list of projects Scooter had been working on.”
She had only one question. “Before you go, could you tell me why you wanted me to report my work with the police to you and not to Scooter?”
He appeared startled, then composed himself. “All I can tell you is that I was aware of Scooter's, er, out-of-the-office relationship with Rebecca. I felt it best to keep your activities more confidential.”
That made sense. “Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow.”
After he left, Quinn sat in her humble controller's office, in stunned silence. She hadn't expected this appointment, hadn't even thought about it, but she sure as hell wouldn't back away from it.
She needed to make a list of changes ⦠hold on ⦠wait for Dr. Arnold's list of current projects. More importantly, she needed to talk to her staff to let them know before the appointment was announced to the campus. She sent an email for a meeting after lunch.
Ruffling through the stack of mail on her desk, she glanced up to find a cashier standing in the doorway, holding a large vase containing a spring bouquet.
“These were just delivered for you,” she said with a curious smile. “I'll put them on the corner of your desk.”
“Thanks for bringing them in.” Quinn smiled right back.
This was unusual, flowers delivered twice in three days. She hesitated before pulling the card from among the blooms. The flowers were beautiful and smelled delightful. She couldn't help but enjoy them. Chocolate or flowers as a gift was sure to improve a girl's mood. The card read: “Please forgive me, love, Logan.”
She couldn't blame the man for trying but he was wasting his time and his money. Logan Rice belonged to her past. He had lied to her, well, technically, it was more like he had withheld the truth. Withholding an important fact about a person's life from another person equates to dishonesty. Logan didn't deserve her.
She smelled the flowers again, bright yellow and pink blooms, light and fragrant. They would fit nicely in her new, uh, temporary office. Her stomach growled. She grabbed her purse and headed for the parking lot. She'd pick up lunch at a drive through, not healthy but fast.
She called Ruthie once in the car.
“Guess what?” Quinn said.
“You received more flowers.”
“How'd you know?” She was surprised at Ruthie's guess but flowers weren't on her mind right then.
“I'm psychic. Didn't you know?” Ruthie teased.
“Smart ass, also. Listen to this, Dr. Arnold came by this morning. He appointed me the acting vice president of finance. How about that?” Telling Ruthie made it all the more real. She was excited to have the chance to play with the big boys.
“Congratulations. You'll do a great job. Is it scary though? Walking in your former boss's arena can't be easy.”
“Definitely. I have a major case of the nerves right now. But once I get through my first Executive Council meeting I'll be fine.”
“When's the meeting?” Ruthie asked.
“Tomorrow morning. I've never been to one so I don't know how they work.”
“You'll do fine. Watch and learn the lay of the land.”
$ $ $
After a grilled chicken sandwich, Quinn met with her staff and gave them the news of her temporary position. Their reaction was mixed, as she expected. She did her best to reassure them she'd be available just as before.
Ellie called an hour later, and Quinn found herself seated in Scooter's chair, ready to clear out the desk. She felt like a vulture. He'd just been buried and here they were, going through his things. But, life goes on and HCU had financial concerns and projects that couldn't be put on hold.
Ellie entered the office carrying packing boxes.
“Thanks,” Quinn said. “We can gather everything that's personal. I'm sure Mrs. Taylor will want it.”
A look she couldn't identify, irritation maybe, crossed Ellie's face.
“Dr. Arnold told me he'd deliver everything to her himself.”
That surprised her as she had planned on doing it. “If that's what he wants.” She pointed to the bookcase. “Why don't you go through that and take the pictures off the walls. I'll do the desk and credenza.”
They worked in silence for several minutes. Quinn pulled files from the drawers, quickly looked them over, put the work ones in a pile on the top of the desk, the others in a box. It didn't take long. Next, she opened the middle drawer and wished she hadn't.
“Oh, no.”
“What is it?” Ellie rushed over to the desk.
“Look.” She handed Ellie a photo then pawed through greeting cards and handwritten notes.
“Gross.” Ellie smirked at the picture of Rebecca sitting on Scooter's lap, both wearing lopsided grins. “This proves it.”
“Proves they were more than work colleagues.” Quinn shuffled greeting cards into a pile. No need for Ellie to see them. She didn't want to soil Scooter's reputation any further.
“Poor Scooter,” Ellie said.
Quinn gathered everything in a pile and found a large envelope. “I'll save this stuff for the police. I'm sure they'll want it as evidence.”
After another thirty minutes, they were done. The facilities office picked up four boxes for delivery to Dr Arnold's office. Now she didn't envy him taking them to Mrs. Taylor. Quinn looked around. Every wall was blank. Every indication that Scooter had previously occupied the office had evaporated.
She shivered. It was creepy. Just two weeks ago, he and Roddy and Quinn had sat at the conference table. So much had happened in those two weeks. She had no choice but to adjust to the changes. She turned around and watched Ellie take Scooter's nameplate off the door. So ⦠that was that.
Houston, Monday
Logan walked into The Red Bar, his favorite watering hole, irritated and pissed off. His first day back at the office boiled down to a giant pain in the ass. First, Gram had cornered him about his trips to Las Vegas and Rome. She was mad as hell that Rebecca wasn't in police custody. Well, damn, he tried, hadn't he?
Plopping down at the bar, he ordered a double scotch, two ice cubes. He stared aimlessly at the liquor bottles behind the bar, rubbed his beard, wondered what the hell was wrong with him. Ever since he'd said good-bye to Quinn last Friday morning, he'd been in a foul mood. He wasn't ready to admit to himself that Quinn was the cause of his nasty mood.
He slugged down half the scotch, felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Billy, how's it going?” He motioned with his head. “Take a load off.”
Billy ordered a beer, studied his cousin. Apparently, he didn't like what he saw. “You got a burr up your ass?”