Paying The Piper - 27. Chapter 27

Cale grabbed three glasses from the kitchen while Quent made himself comfortable on the couch. Drew looked wary. "It’s a bit early to be drinking, isn’t it?"

Quent snorted. "Thought you liked to break the rules, Marcus?"

"I like to remember breaking the rules. A couple hits of that and I won’t remember my own name."

Quent smiled evilly. "Maybe Cale will scream it and remind you."

Drew collapsed into a seat. He stared at Quent thoughtfully. "Were you always like this?"

"Like what?" Quent and Cale asked in unison.

Drew rolled his eyes. "So irreverent."

Looking him straight in the eye, Quent cracked the seal on the scotch. Drew shook his head. With a sigh, he held out his glass.

Quent poured. Cale took his glass to the couch and sat close to Drew. "Where do we start?" he asked.

"I’d like to start about four weeks ago," Quent said.

"What happened four weeks ago?" Drew asked. He slipped his hand onto Cale’s thigh.

Quent swirled the amber liquid in his glass and stared at Drew. "You got put on a semi-permanent vacation."

"Oh, right," Cale drawled. He turned to Drew. "I’ve been wanting to hear this."

Drew’s face was stony. "Just what do you find so fascinating?"

Quent shrugged. "From what I gather, you experienced a significant lapse in judgment. Just curious to hear the details."

"Lapse, my ass! They needed to cover their butts and I paid the price." Drew snapped.

Cale covered Drew’s hand with his own. "Hey," he said. "Easy."

Drew fell back against the cushion. He took a long pull from his glass and stared petulantly at the far wall.

Quent decided to push the envelope. "Are you pouting?"

Cale shot him a dark glare. Drew didn’t reply. Quent watched both of them for a moment then pushed out a frustrated breath. He wanted to know what had happened. He needed to know whether he could trust Marcus or whether he had a loose cannon on his hands. But he wasn’t going to go asking pretty please to some snot-nosed kid just to find out.

Cale saved the day. "Did you get hurt?" He turned Drew’s face toward his. Drew’s gaze softened at Cale’s obvious concern.

"I’m fine now."

Cale’s grip tightened. "You did get hurt. Just how dangerous is this job you do?"

Drew’s lips quirked into a smile. "Not as dangerous as taking a vacation in Farther's Run."

Quent sneered at him. "So you say."

Drew groaned and threw his hands into the air. "Fine. This is what happened. I had a feeling about something. It was liberally supported by empirical evidence and by my computer models. Nobody believed that I had figured out where this monster would strike next. So…"

Quent was two steps ahead. "You went alone?" he thundered.

"I tracked him alone. Yes." Drew’s voice was challenging.

"And?"

Drew shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes were dark. "I found him. But when I called for back-up…well, let’s just say no one took me seriously."

Quent’s eyes flashed. Cale gasped. "I can’t believe that."

Drew finished his drink. "Believe it. These are just people, after all. With the same prejudices, jealousies and," he glanced at Quent, "piss-poor attitudes as everyone else."

"My attitude is not piss-poor. It’s effective," Quent retorted.

Drew snorted. "Whatever."

Quent took a deep breath and poured himself more scotch. "So, if I understand this correctly, you confronted a dangerous criminal, a known sociopath, on your own."

Drew hesitated, and then said quietly, "I didn’t have a choice. He was about to kill her. There was no one else."

Quent leaned forward, intent on Drew. "But you’re not a field agent." When Drew began to protest, Quent forestalled him. "Not really, despite your training. Your talents lie elsewhere."

"Yes," Drew admitted. "That’s true."

Quent sat back. "They’re right. It was a serious lapse in judgment."

Drew laughed bitterly. He stood, walked to the kitchen and dumped the rest of his scotch down the drain. He poured a glass of water from the tap. When Quent spoke from just behind him, he jumped.

"For what it’s worth," Quent said, "I would have done the same thing."

Drew didn’t turn around. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Doesn’t it?" Quent leaned against the wall and stared at Drew.

Drew turned and peered at Quent over his shoulder. "Actually, yes," he said after a moment. "It does."

"Good. Now, can we move along to what’s important? Not that traveling down memory lane with you hasn’t been titillating." He pointed at Drew. "Don’t let me catch you dumping my scotch down the sink again. It’s nearly as old as you are."

Drew gave Quent a dirty look. "And I like it better than you," Quent added before turning back to the living room.

**********

Drew rejoined Cale on the couch. He brought his water, and turned down the bottle when it was passed around. He looked pointedly at Quent. "What’s your feeling on this? And don’t give me any crap. You use your intuition as regularly as I do."

Quent idly stroked his fingers over his lips. "I don’t know. Are you talking about Cynthia or Marci?"

Cale cocked his head. "Aren’t they one and the same?"

Quent stared into space. He didn’t answer Cale’s question, but asked one of his own. "What I don’t understand is why the killer targeted Cale."

Drew said the first thing that came to his mind. "He believed Cale could expose him."

"Or her," Cale cut in.

"Or her," Drew acquiesced.

Quent balked. "What on earth could Cale have done to give anyone that idea?"

They fell silent. Drew was unwilling to let his idea go. "It’s the only thing that makes any sense. We’re missing something." He turned to Cale. "Think again. Who would have known you’d be on the road last night?"

Cale groaned and tilted his head back. "You mean, on that stretch of road at that very moment?" Drew nodded. Cale sighed and looked at him. "Truthfully, only you."

Drew gave him a strange look. "What?"

"I called and left you a message. I said I was headed back from the city, that I would be in town in about thirty minutes, and that I wanted…I wanted to talk to you."

Drew slid his hand into Cale’s. "You said that before, but my machine doesn’t show any messages."

Cale shrugged. "I don’t know what to tell you. My phone was cutting in and out. The bad weather, I guess. But I’m positive some of what I said got through."

Quent sat forward suddenly. The movement startled both Drew and Cale. "What?" Drew asked.

"Where’s your answering machine?" Quent demanded.

"Um, it’s by the do…where are you going?"

Quent didn’t wait for Drew to finish. He stood and stalked over to the table by the door. Drew joined him. The digital display showed zero messages waiting. "See?" Drew said.

Quent frowned. He pressed the rewind and then the play button. Loud bursts of static exploded out of the speaker. After a few seconds, Cale’s voice came through.

"It’s Cale. Listen, I know…what happened…Marci…crazy…need to talk to you. I’ve…figured things out. I’m on my way back…town…be careful…there in…thirty minutes. Call…Quent…need to talk…tonight."

Cale shook his head. "That message is completely garbled. You can’t even understand what I was saying."

Quent turned slowly and looked at Cale. "I think we have our answer."