"I have an update from Virginia," Rainie said as Quincy and Kimberly turned to face her.

Quincy nodded. "Go ahead."

"Phil de Beers and Mary Olsen are dead. The police found their bodies an hour ago in a car just down the road from Mary's house. The car was registered in Phil's name. We'll need the medical examiner's report to be sure, but the police are guessing poison. The bodies have white foam around the mouth. There's a strong smell of almonds…"

"Cyanide," Quincy deduced.

She nodded grimly. "They found a box of chocolates in the car. Two are gone. The rest have that same bitter almond scent. According to the butler, Mary accepted a delivery shortly before leaving the house. He found the empty shipping box in the foyer, no return address."

"So someone sent Mary a box of poisoned chocolates and she took them to de Beers? But why did she eat one, too? That doesn't make any sense." Kimberly looked baffled.

"For the sake of argument," Quincy said slowly, "let's assume Montgomery spotted de Beers conducting surveillance on Mary. Mary probably knew Montgomery through Amanda, so now Albert has two loose ends. An accomplice who can connect him with the murders and a private investigator watching the accomplice. He doesn't have a lot of time, but he must do something."

"He poisons the box of chocolates," Rainie murmured, "sends them to Mary, and makes up some story that convinces her to share them with de Beers. Not bad really. Eliminates two people without burning a lot of time or resources. You're right, Quincy, this guy is an efficiency freak."

"Death by UPS," Kimberly said. Her shoulders sagged.

Rainie shot her a look. "Hey, Kimberly, if Montgomery is so good, why is he the one in FBI custody? He might be efficient, but we're the ones who won the war."

"Tell that to Phil de Beers."

Rainie's lips tightened. She turned on her heels and marched back into the living room. A second later, Quincy heard the sound of wood snapping. She had finally found his stash of #2 pencils in his computer case. From here on out, he would apparently be taking notes in pen.

"I guess I shouldn't have said that," Kimberly murmured after a moment.

"No, you shouldn't have."

"I'm sorry – "

"I'm not the one to whom you should be apologizing." His voice came out too harsh. Kimberly instantly looked stricken. Quincy repressed a sigh. He wasn't used to Kimberly being this sensitive. Then again, she had never lived under the threat of immediate death before.

"Kimberly," he said more patiently, "Rainie hired Phil de Beers. She met with the man. She gave him an important assignment, which means she trusted and liked him. She is not going to cry into her coffee right now because she knows the situation is still live and she can't afford that luxury. But don't think she doesn't have feelings. And don't lash out at her, just because you feel helpless."

"I'm sorry. I'm just… I don't know myself anymore!" Kimberly's voice rose, the full force of her anxiety now flooding to the surface. She stepped away from him, rubbing her arms compulsively and shaking her head. "I'm tense, I'm moody. One moment I feel strong and in control. I can meet this challenge, I can take this man! The next moment I'm shaking in my boots, drawing down on room service and mistrusting every noise I hear. I can't stand this level of uncertainty. I hate doubting myself, I hate worrying about what's going to happen next. I'm not supposed to fall apart like this, Dad. I'm supposed to be strong!"

"Are you having panic attacks again?" Quincy asked immediately. "Do you feel as if you're being watched?"

She drew up short. "No…" she said slowly. "In fact, I haven't felt that prickly sensation since we came here."

"Good." Quincy started breathing again. "You are strong, Kimberly," he said evenly. "You are doing remarkably well for everything you've been through."

"Do you feel like you're falling apart?" she demanded. "Are you swamped by anxiety, do you jump at shadows, are you tempted to open fire on room service waiters?"

"No, but I've been doing this kind of work for over fifteen years."

"Dad, does it frighten you?"

"What?"

"To feel so comfortable in the face of so much death?"

He bent down and kissed her cheek. "Yes, Kimberly. Sometimes it frightens me to death." He moved back to his duffel bag. "Help me pack, sweetheart. The only way out of this is to keep moving forward. So let's keep moving, one step at a time and then one step beyond that."

Kimberly nodded. She uncrossed her arms. She took a deep breath and picked up one of his shirts. And she looked so determined, it made Quincy's heart ache all over again. He lowered his head so she could not see his eyes.

He had lied to his daughter. He didn't think Albert Montgomery had masterminded this elaborate plan. He didn't think it was safe to head back East. Instead, he was absolutely certain he was once again being manipulated, but he didn't know what else he could do. Damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Fifteen years of being the best of the best and now he was being played like a toy violin.

There had to be another option. There was always another option…

"I couldn't uncover anything interesting on Millos," Kimberly spoke up. "He doesn't even have that much money in the bank. Most of the searches I did just kept bringing up Miguel Sanchez. The man has spawned even more case studies than Bundy."

"His partnership was unusual," Quincy said.

"Maybe not anymore," Kimberly murmured.

He didn't pretend to misunderstand her. His bag was full. He zipped it up, then finally met his daughter's waiting gaze.

"Maybe you could do me a favor," he said casually. "You have a good memory. Perhaps you could make a list of everyone you knew in your childhood, friends of yours, friends of the family. You know, the people we knew when your mother and I were still married."

Kimberly looked at him. He hadn't fooled her. After a moment, she nodded wordlessly.

"Hey Kimberly," he called softly. "Fuck ballet."

Her gaze remained somber, but then finally, slowly, she smiled.

Minutes later, Rainie and Quincy rode the elevator down to the lobby to hail a cab for the airport. Kimberly had tactfully agreed to stay upstairs in the room, seeming to understand that they might want a moment alone. Quincy figured there was something profound he should say to Rainie. All he could think was no sickening-sweet pet names.

In the lobby, Rainie glanced at her watch. "Two hours," she said, "not one."

"And yet I'm heading home."

"Intermission is over," she agreed.

"Rainie – "

"I won't let anything happen to Kimberly," she interjected quietly. "You have my word."

He nodded. He had figured that Rainie also realized that Montgomery was a long shot for a lone gunman.

Say something. Do something. Learn from your mistakes. Quincy heard himself murmur weakly, "Take care of yourself."

"I'm not the one walking into the lion's den." Rainie jerked her head toward a cab that had just appeared on the street. Quincy flagged it down, and before he was really ready, the driver was out of the car and taking his bag.

"I'll call you," he said.

"At my loft, not here. Just to be safe."

"Agreed." The cab driver had the back door open. He looked at Quincy impatiently. Quincy, however, was still gazing at Rainie. His chest felt tight. He knew now what he needed to say, then realized he couldn't utter the words. They would make the moment too final. They would reveal too much of his fear.

Rainie seemed to understand. She leaned forward and before he could react, she kissed him quick and hard on the mouth.

"Hey Quince. See you soon." She walked back into the hotel. A moment later, Quincy got into the cab.

"Airport," he told the driver.