Chapter 7: Footage

Quincy's POV

The lab report was one page, and I read it with the girl's heartbeat still in my ears.

Her blood came back flat.

Every hormone that should have been rising was pinned low.

The second sheet came from the courier's extra test, on the leaves from the gray tin and the dregs of the thermos.

I knew the name of the compound before I reached the end of the line.

It was a prescription blocker.

Doctors give it to people who must not feel desire, and it turns the want in a body down to nothing.

It had been in the tin. It had been in the thermos.

It had been in her for thirteen months, and her husband had never touched her once.

Pamela Ashcroft sat on my exam table with her blouse half buttoned and her mouth still soft from nearly being kissed.

"Nine," she said. "Before my first meeting. Why?"

"And your husband's tea?"

"Every night around eight. Quincy, you're scaring me."

It was the first time she'd used my name.

I wanted to hear it again, and I hated myself for wanting it.

"I need one more day," I said. "Don't drink anything either of them gives you. Pour it out where nobody sees."

"Why?"

"Because if I'm wrong, I'll have frightened you for nothing."

I made myself hold her gaze. "And if I'm right, you shouldn't hear it from me until I can prove it."

She buttoned her blouse with steady fingers and stood.

At the door she turned.

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