Panic flashed in her eyes. “Just to make him feel bad for little while. We no want to make him die.”

“So someone did pay you?”

“Forester no supposed to die.” Her hands gripped the steering wheel. She rocked back and forth a little in her seat, as if she couldn’t sit still. “I no think he would die.”

I stepped closer and tried to keep my voice low. “What did you think would happen?”

“He supposed to not feel so good. He get sick a little. But no die. Forester no supposed to die.”

“Who wanted Forester to feel bad?”

“I no say.” Her hands were shaking now. She gripped the steering wheel harder and began wringing her hands on it. Her whole body was trembling. “No, no, no.”

“It’s okay, Dr. Li. Please, just tell me who paid you to make Forester feel bad.”

She pursed her lips. She looked on the verge of tears. “No, no,” she said again. And then Dr. Li took her right hand off the wheel, put the car in Drive and squealed backward.

“Stop!” I said, standing in front of the car. “Please, just talk to me!”

She backed up farther and punched the gas. The car shot by me, narrowly missing me and disappeared down Wentworth.

52

Day Eight

T uesday morning, exactly one week after my fiancé disappeared, it was Mayburn who I spoke to first thing in the morning, not Sam.

“Where were you last night?” I asked when he answered, unable to prevent the demanding tone in my voice. I’d called him after my showdown with Dr. Li and it had gone to voice mail again.

“Remind me not to date you.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously, I was working the phones and three computers on your case, trying to see if your boyfriend used those credit cards.”

“Oh. Thanks. Anything?”

Mayburn exhaled loudly. “A few red herrings. Nothing yet.”

I rushed through the details of my two conversations with Dr. Li. “What do you think?”

“I think Dr. Li is closing up shop because she knows she’s done something bad.”

“Should I call the cops so they can put out an APB?”

“They won’t.”

“But someone paid her to put those herbs in there.”

“She didn’t say that. You just assumed that based on what she was saying and doing.”

“And the fact that she’d cleaned out her office.”

“Yeah, and that, too. And I think you’re right. But what I’m saying is if you go to the cops, you’ve really got nothing-no admission, no real evidence. What they’ll think is you’re the slightly crazy girl whose boyfriend took off with her boss’s cash, and now you’re losing it and hoping to place the blame somewhere else. We’re working this case better than the cops could. When we have enough evidence-about anything, even if it’s something not so favorable about Sam-we’ll turn it over.”

“Well, what should I do now?” I said, agitated. I blinked against the glare of the bright streetlights. “I’ve got to do something. Tell me what to do.”

“Go to work. Be careful.”

Work, or what was left of it. When I got there, I found Q in my office sitting on one of the visitor’s chairs. His elbows were on his knees, his bald head hung low between his arms. He straightened when he heard me. He wore a white shirt under a black blazer, his khakis pressed to a fine point. And yet, despite the sharp outfit, he looked lost.

“It’s just about done,” he said, gazing around the office. “All the files are gone except the Jane Augustine contract.”

I closed the door and slid onto the love seat that was pushed against the far wall. That love seat used to be laden with files and stacks of depositions.

“I might have to start working for Tanner again,” I said.

“You couldn’t.”

“I don’t want to, but with Shane giving all the Pickett cases to his best friend, and with the fact that I really don’t know how to practice any other kind of law, what am I going to do?”

Q pursed his lips. “Tanner isn’t going to want you around, Iz. You’re too much of a threat to him, even with Forester gone. You know everyone at Pickett Enterprises. They all love you. I hate to say this, but…”

“What?”

“You’re going to be lucky if you have a job.”

His words trickled into my brain. Then they exploded, the enormity of them hitting me. “Oh my God. You’re right.” I felt the plates of my earth collide, screeching with a loud, painful noise.

I looked at Q’s stricken face. “You okay?”

“Not really.”

“Is it all this?” I waved a hand around the nearly empty office.

“Yeah. And it’s Max.” He looked down. “Max knows about my affair,” he said. “It’s over.”

“Wow,” I said. “So you were having an affair. How did it come out?”

“I told him. I had to.”

“The guilts?”

“Of course. I feel horrible. But mostly I wanted to tell Max because I’m in love with him.”

“Him, Max, or him, the other guy?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice. Q had always had a hard time with monogamy, but I thought he’d be with Max forever.

“Him, the other guy.”

“But you love Max.”

“Not like I love this guy.”

“Who is this guy?”

“I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“You’re not ready to talk about it? But it’s me here. We talk about everything.”

“He doesn’t want me to say anything yet.”

“But it’s me,” I repeated. Q’s holding back was so very unlike him.

He shook his head.

“Why won’t you tell me?” I asked. “Is it because he’s involved with someone, too?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Maybe to someone else it is, but we can talk about anything.”

Q narrowed his eyes. “Give me a break, Iz. It’s not like you’ve let me in all that much this week.”

“Of course I have.” But my voice died off fast. He was right. I hadn’t told him about breaking in to Forester’s house or seeing Dr. Li yesterday. I hadn’t told him about working with Mayburn. Yeah, Mayburn had told me not to discuss that stuff, but there was something else…something seemed off between Q and me.

“I haven’t been confiding in you as much because things have seemed weird with us,” I said.

“How so?” he asked defensively.

“I don’t know. You’ve been evading some of my questions.” Dr. Li’s frightened face filled my mind. Who had paid her? It couldn’t be Q. It made no sense. Still…

“Relationships can’t stay the same forever, Iz. Not romantic ones or friendship ones. Or professional.”

A feeling of trepidation permeated my body. But then that was a familiar sensation. Lately, I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Why does this sound like a breakup speech?”

He stared at me, then looked around the office. “It’s time.”

“You’re breaking up with me?” I asked.

“Not from our friendship…”

The trepidation grew, forming a lead ball of anxiety in my sternum. “You’re not quitting…”

He nodded. “Not right now, but…but soon. Yeah.”

“But Forester just died. And Sam is…who knows where. And you’re just…” I searched the cacophony in my mind for the right word. “You’re leaving me?”

“Izzy, all this stuff that’s going on doesn’t just affect you. At the firm, you and I have been operating like our own team. Now, with you losing the Pickett work…You know I never wanted to be a damn secretary. And now that’s what I’ll be.”

“Is your new boyfriend part of this decision?”

“First off, he’s not my boyfriend.” He looked over me and out my window. “He’s not really even out of the closet.”

I leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

“Shut up.”

“No way. Are you telling me you’re in love with someone who isn’t even out yet? Is he married or something?”

His eyes returned to mine. “Don’t.”

I made myself sit back. “And is this guy, who is not out of the closet, part of this decision to quit?”

“It’s my decision, but yes, he’s been encouraging me to do something more with my life. Professionally, anyway.”