Chapter 14: The Open Line

Quincy's POV

I parked at the end of Pamela's street at seven, with the engine off and her phone line open on the dashboard.

I had told her I would be on the other end every hour. I hadn't said I would be on her street.

The gloves were on the passenger seat. I had pulled them off in the garage and left them there.

My hands lay on the wheel, bare, and I let them.

The house was a pale colonial with a clipped hedge, and the kitchen light was on.

Through the speaker I heard a key, a cabinet door, a kettle.

"You're home early," Colin said. He sounded tired and soft, the voice he used in lobbies.

"The board cleared me," Pamela said.

"I heard. I heard what you did to Lacey."

The soft voice went somewhere. What was left was thin and cold.

"She lost her job in front of sixty people, Pamela. She called me from the elevator, crying. Do you know what you've done?"

"I know what she did."

"She was trying to help you. Everyone was."

"She put a drug in my tea."

"It was a supplement." A chair scraped. "You were never well. You know that. You've been confused for weeks."

I sat very still.

"There's a doctor Mother trusts," Colin said. "He's agreed to see you Thursday at nine, at a private clinic. It's an evaluation. A few days of rest."

"A few days where?"

"Somewhere quiet. I've already signed the intake as your husband. You only have to sign the consent."

Paper slid across a table.

"I'm not signing that," said Pamela.

"Yes, you are."

"Colin."

"You humiliated my mother's friend. You humiliated me. You've been in another man's bed, and the whole building has seen it."

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