The Killing Game(53)

Then she’d gotten the nine-one-one call: her husband was being life-flighted to Emanuel Medical Center in northeast Portland. Reality was a bucket of ice water poured over her head. She’d driven to the hospital in a controlled panic, but by the time she got there, Greg was already gone.

Now, thinking back, she had only snapshot memories of seeing Carter and Emma and Ben there, though she could smell Emma, who’d been blindly drunk and reeked of booze. Through it all, Andi had forced herself to stay focused. She needed to ask the right questions. She needed to keep moving forward, make decisions. At one point, Carter had pulled her aside and hugged her, his heart beating fast and hard. She’d noted it from a distance as he rarely touched her. Ben, taking a cue from his brother-in-law, had then hugged her, too, though more stiffly, until Andi eased away. Emma hadn’t been able to do anything but stumble around and cry.

After Greg’s death, Andi had barely thought of Mimi. She’d been diminished by the loss of Andi’s husband. Both Emma and Carter had believed Greg that Mimi’s baby, if it even existed, wasn’t his, so they wanted nothing more to do with the Quades.

A couple of weeks after Greg’s death, Carter told Andi, “I did some research on wonderful Mimi and her brother. Scott Quade’s an extortionist. He’s looking for a quick score, and in this instance Greg played right into his hands. I’d be surprised if the bitch is really pregnant at all, but even if she is, the chances of it being Greg’s are slim to none.”

Emma had agreed with her brother, but had added, “Oh, Scott’s always been around,” she said. “He’s one of the lake rats.”

“Lake rats?” Andi queried.

“No money. Old cabins. Scruffy and poor. Schultz Lake was full of ’em. Not so much anymore. Scott’s just trying to make a score.”

“Maybe you knew him. I never did,” Carter corrected her.

“You had your share of lake friends. I caught you with Melanie.”

“We were kids,” he’d dismissed, sounding long-suffering.

Andi had let the issue go. Her own mental health demanded it, and there wasn’t a lot she could do about it anyway. Carter had relieved her of acting in any way by telling her, “If she’s really pregnant, and if it’s Greg’s, we’ll figure out what to do soon enough,” so none of them had approached Mimi or Scott about the issue again. Then time passed and Andi was pregnant, then she miscarried.... Now she wanted to know the truth from Mimi about Greg and the baby.

She had butterflies in her stomach as she remote locked her Tucson and headed toward Mimi’s town house. She reached the front door and knocked, noting the deferred maintenance in the faded and scarred black paint on the door and the dry, scraggly bushes flanking an exposed aggregate sidewalk riddled with cracks. Glancing around, she saw that the town houses were in total decline. Even so, with the greater Portland area’s blistering rental rate climb, she knew the rent wouldn’t be cheap.

It took a while for Mimi to answer, but when she did, Andi’s eyes were immediately drawn to the very prominent baby bump sticking out from Mimi’s middle. The sight of it made Andi’s ears buzz. Pregnant . . . Mimi really was pregnant.

Mimi stared at her for a moment, then suddenly broke into tears. “I miss him so much!”

Her wail brought Andi slowly back to the present. She sensed she should say she missed him, too, but the words stuck in her throat and Mimi rushed in with, “You probably hate me. I’m so sorry. I . . . I loved him!” She was gulping hard and shaking with emotion.

“Yeah, well, um . . . he was a good man.” Was he? Andi wasn’t sure about that.

But Mimi, her blue eyes full of naked pain, said on a hiccup, “He was. He really was. I can’t believe he’s gone. I just can’t believe it.”

She looked at Andi, clearly waiting for her to explain why she was on her doorstep. “I just wanted to . . . see how you were,” Andi said.

“Would you . . . you want to come in and have a cup of decaf tea?”

“I think maybe I should go.” She gestured toward the evidence of Mimi’s pregnancy. “I just was thinking about everything and . . . we really haven’t really given you any support.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” Her mouth worked as she fought for control.

“No, it’s not. If you’re . . .” She stopped herself and said instead, “We were surprised when you and your brother showed up at the offices and announced—”

“Please come in. I’ll get you some tea.”

She left the door wide open and hurried toward the back of the town house. Andi stood on the porch a moment longer, reluctant to enter, already wishing she hadn’t come. Exhaling a pent-up breath, she followed in Mimi’s wake.

“Is chamomile okay?” Mimi asked as Andi stood by the small kitchen table at the end of the U-shaped kitchen.

“Sure.” Andi had harbored a lot of bad thoughts about Greg’s lover, but faced with this pregnant woman child, those feelings started to slip away. Mimi was too open and gullible to despise, though Andi could sense she might grow impatient with her very easily.

“Could we talk about Greg a little?” Mimi asked. “I’m . . . I’m just . . . I know he is . . . was your husband and all, but . . .”

Mimi was holding two mugs and suddenly her hands started trembling so violently that hot tea splashed onto the backs of her hands. Andi jumped forward to help as Mimi dropped one mug, shrieked, then burst into a fresh flood of tears.