Maybe Alex can plan it so she can give Phin a farewell fuck. See how many times he can get it up before she peels off his skin.
McGlade won’t get a farewell fuck. While he’s also an enemy, he doesn’t pose the same danger as Phin and Jack. Alex decides to let him live-after she removes his other hand, his eyes, and his balls. And perhaps throws in some third-degree burns as well.
The idea of burning McGlade makes her tingle. She arches her back, then presses against the mattress.
An ambulance. Or hospital. She’ll break into one sometime in the next few days. Steal some antibiotics, sutures, and a few IV bags. When she gets Harry McGlade alone, she wants to make sure he survives his extensive injuries to lead a horrible, disfigured, unhappy, and very long life.
Getting warm in here. Alex yanks off her cover blanket, reaches down.
Now Jack-Alex has spent hours obsessing over how Jack will die. First, emotional and psychological suffering. Alex wants to make Jack regret becoming a cop. To break her down until she has no will to live.
Then, when the physical suffering starts, Alex will prolong her death until she gets bored. Perhaps rent a cabin in the north woods, keep Jack chained there, visit her a few times a week for some female bonding over extended sessions of excruciating pain. Maybe I’ll pick up a paper, Alex thinks, check the real estate listings for someplace secluded.
Revenge is best served cold, but fantasizing about what she’ll do to Jack makes her hot. So hot that she considers going back to the Old Stone Inn and riding Lance again.
But Alex can’t go back there. Time and again, Jack has proven herself a smart and worthy adversary. While Alex is pretty confident that Jack won’t find Lance in time, she doesn’t want to risk the lieutenant bursting into the room while she’s bouncing toward the Big O.
However, there are other ways for a horny girl to get her rocks off. Ways that are a lot more satisfying than self-gratification.
Alex rolls to the edge of the bed and flips on the light. The drive will take a few hours, but she’s not tired. If her victim is home, and the setup looks good, Alex might even get laid to night.
Sex and death. They go together like chocolate and peanut butter.
She dresses as fast as she can, jeans and a hoodie, grabs the things she needs, and hangs a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob before heading to the car.
It’s time to go looking for a cop.
CHAPTER 17
“SO FAR,” Herb’s voice was tired, frustrated, “not a single bomb squad has responded saying they have a cop named Lance on their team.”
“No hits on the picture?”
I was back in the Crimebago, and warm because of Phin. Not due to sexual tension, or anger, or embarrassment. Phin had been able to fix Harry’s air conditioner.
“You know how hard it is to ID by pic, Jack. How differently people look in different situations. In Lance’s case, he’s got duct tape around half his head and he’s screaming in agony. We might not even recognize him if he was eating a five-course Mongolian BBQ across from us.”
Leave it to Herb to work food into the discussion.
“Any MIAs?” I switched my cell phone from my left hand to my right.
“One. A Detective Don Oakes, EOD out of North Carolina. Didn’t report in today. His lieut said the pic sort of looks like him.”
“Where in North Carolina?”
“ Wilmington. On the coast.”
“You’ve alerted their department?”
“Got an all points on Oakes. They’re bringing in the Feds, suspected kidnapping.”
“Thanks, Herb.”
“Keep me in the loop. And don’t forget my Turduckinlux.”
Herb hung up. Harry plopped himself on the couch next to me. The aftershave smell made me wince.
“Alex told me she went through basic training in North Carolina.” He scratched himself in a bad place. “Makes sense she’d go there.”
Phin folded his arms. “I don’t want to get within a mile of Alex without long-range backup. If we go to NC, we have to leave the rifles behind.”
We’d just spent several thousand dollars of Latham’s money at a local sporting goods store, buying two H-S Precision professional hunting rifles with twenty-six-inch barrels, chambered for.377. But no traveling cases for them, and no time to get any. My watch said 10:30 p.m. Lance would be dead in seven hours. Assuming we could get a late flight out, we wouldn’t have much time to find him.
“You scared of a girl, Phin?” Harry asked.
“Yes,” Phin said.
Harry nodded. “Me too. I vote we stay here, see if something else shakes loose. The WPD probably won’t let us in on the investigation anyway.”
“I agree with Harry. But this is your decision, Jack.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to force a brilliant thought. I settled for a semi-apparent one.
“How did Alex get the pigstick?”
Harry made a face. “Duh. She stole it from Lance, who’s on a bomb squad somewhere.”
“Did she just find a random EOD cop and follow him home?”
Phin leaned against the kitchen counter. Or the galley counter, in Harryspeak. “I get it. She knows him.”
“Fatso hasn’t found anyone named Lance on any bomb squad?”
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Maybe he’s not civilian.” Harry scratched the stubble on his chin. “Maybe he’s military police. Someone Alex knew when she was in the marines. Those guys would have pigsticks, det wire, all that shit.”
Phin appraised Harry. “Did Alex talk about any old boyfriends?”
“I don’t remember. She didn’t mention her past much.”
“How about her old unit?”
Harry grinned. “Heh heh. You said unit.”
“Focus, Harry. You spent more time with Alex than we did. You have to know her better.”
“If I knew her so well, think I’d have this?”
Harry held up his prosthetic hand. There was a whirring, mechanical sound, and his middle finger raised up. Crude way to make a point, but valid nonetheless. Alex had fooled us all. I met her under false pretenses, and actually considered her a friend up until the point she tried to kill me. She could lie and manipulate better than anyone I’d ever known.
I rubbed my eyes, which stung from all the crying I’d done today. “Okay, we stay put, follow the military angle. I’ll call Herb, see if he can get access to Alex’s rec ords. Maybe we can find someone in her past named Lance.”
Harry shook his head. “Lance is probably dead already. We should head to Deer Park, try to trace the first cell phone in the daisy chain. That’s a sure path to Alex.”
“Can’t we do both?” Phin asked. “Split up?”
Harry rocked himself up off the couch and slapped an arm around Phin’s shoulders.
“Good idea, Phin old buddy. Me and you. Two men on the open road. We can find the phone between marathon sessions of poker and drinking. Hell, with no women around we don’t even have to bother showering or getting dressed.”
“I’m going with Jack.” Phin met my eyes. “If that’s okay.”
I shrugged. “It’s a full night of going over reports, case histories, those shrink sessions while she was at Heathrow. Nothing exciting.”
“Two can read faster than one. And if I’m there, we can keep each other up.”
An unwarranted thought popped into my head, of Phin without his shirt. He had a terrific body. Defined pecs. Six-pack abs…
Focus, Jack, you’re being an asshole. We were chasing a killer, Phin was a crook, and I was still mourning the man I loved. What the hell was up with my hormones lately? PMS?
I calculated when my period was due, and the answer startled me.
Last week. It should have been last week. And I was never late more than a day or two, not once since the age of twelve. I could set my watch by my cycle.
Stress. Could be stress. That’s why I missed it.