“You forgot ugly,” Harry said.
“I’ll also add dirty to the list. Lathering yourself with aftershave is not, nor has it ever been, a substitute for a shower.”
“Wow. I really suck. You must have hated all of that time we were partners.”
I nodded. “I did.”
“And you must really resent that I still keep popping up in your life.”
More nodding. “I do.”
“And you must think I’m a total idiot that I never knew any of this before.”
Really enthusiastic nodding. “You got it in one.”
“Except I’ve known it all along.”
“I-” I squinted at him. “Huh?”
“Remember the Grant Park case?”
Of course I remembered the Grant Park case. An unsolved rape/murder, gone cold. I worked it in my free time, gathering evidence for over a year, building a case, sharing my findings with Harry. He made the collar without me and got all the credit.
“I’ll never forget it, McGlade. You got the promotion, when you didn’t do a damn thing.”
He smiled, the bastard.
“You still think it’s funny that you screwed me?”
“After all these years, you still think I screwed you? No one wanted to work with you, Jackie. You weren’t a team player. All you cared about was proving to the world that you were a good cop. Guess what? Everyone thought you were a single-minded, self-righteous, ball-busting bitch. They respected you. But no one liked you. You think I got a higher rank because of one lousy arrest? I got it because I passed the damn tests, had been there longer than you, and I bowled with the captain on my days off. Maybe you should have been doing the same thing, then you would have gotten promoted sooner. Hell, you might even still be married.”
I made a fist, wondering where I was going to hit him first.
“You stole the credit for that bust,” I said through my teeth.
“Yes. Yes I did. And it was wrong. But maybe if you’d been the least bit cool, and not constantly acting like I was something you wanted to scrape off the bottom of your shoe, maybe I wouldn’t have. But here we are, two de cades later, and you still treat me like shit. You know something, Jackie? I’ve changed. But you haven’t. You’re still the same holier-than-thou supercop, chasing bad guys instead of having a life. Say what ever you want about me. I like myself. Do you like yourself?”
“Stop the car.”
“It’s not a car. It’s a Crim-”
“Stop the fucking car, McGlade!”
He put on his turn signal, then coasted onto the shoulder of the highway.
“Jackie, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
I needed my backpack, but it was in the motor home section, with Slappy the Psychotic Macaque. I opened the door anyway, ready for a fight.
The monkey was sitting on the sofa, chewing on a remote control. He eyed me when I entered.
“Don’t fuck with me,” I warned him.
He stayed where he was, watching as I grabbed my stuff and opened the side door.
“Jackie, you have to stop pushing away the people trying to help you.”
“Go to hell, McGlade.”
I stepped onto the side of the road.
“Come on. This is stupid.” McGlade, poking his head out. “Come back.”
I spotted a road sign, stating the next exit was two miles ahead. I started to hike.
“It’s cold and dark, Jackie, and there are probably wild animals. I think Wisconsin has wolves and mountain lions. And mad cow disease. At least let me drive you someplace.”
I picked up my pace.
“You can’t take on the whole world by yourself, Jackie!” Harry called after me. “The world always wins!”
Not this time, I swore to myself. This time, I’m going to win one.
But my threat, and my conviction, got lost in the darkness as McGlade pulled away.
CHAPTER 46
ANOTHER DRIVE, BUT SHORTER THIS TIME.
Staying in Chicago isn’t a smart idea. By now the authorities know she’s here. Killing across state lines is a federal crime, so the FBI is going to be involved. Plus, the CPD won’t take threatening one of their own lightly. Everyone will be looking for her, and hers isn’t a face that’s easily forgotten.
But just because Alex has to be in Chicago for one final crime doesn’t mean she has to stay there. So instead she gets a room in nearby Rosemont, at a second-tier hotel near the airport. She dons the black veil and pretends to be a grieving widow as she checks in, the fake sniffles and sobs giving her an excuse to keep her hand on her face, over her scars.
When Alex gets to her room she collapses onto the bed, exhausted. She thinks about her upcoming sabbatical, and how nice it will be to take a break from killing for a while. After she kills the doctor, of course.
There’s still Jack to deal with. And that asshole Harry. And Phin. But the need for revenge, pressing on Alex’s every thought like a full bladder, isn’t quite as pressing. Jack’s not dead, but she’s certainly suffering.
And it’s going to get a lot worse, Alex thinks. After Herb dies, she’s going after Jack next.
It’s kind of sad, really. Alex has been fixated on Jack for so long that having her gone will leave kind of a gap. Perhaps it’s best to savor the little time they have left.
Alex kicks off her shoes, wiggles her toes, and locates the nail polish she bought earlier. She dials, then begins painting the first little piggie.
The phone is answered on the third ring, but Jack doesn’t say anything.
“What, no hello?” Alex asks. “Rude. Are you still mad at me for Alan? That was hours ago.”
“I’m going to find you.”
Jack sounds weak.
“I know. And I’m going to make it easy for you. Tomorrow, after your partner dies, I’m going to call you and we’ll set up a meeting. Just me and you, Jack. That’s what you want, right? Revenge?”
No answer.
“Are you still there? If you want, I can call up Harry instead.”
“I’m here.”
“And you want revenge, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Quiet and squeaky, like a mouse.
“I’m an expert in revenge, and let me tell you something. It doesn’t bring back the dead. Sure, it’s fun. I’m having a great time slaughtering everyone important to you. But Charles is still dead. And even if, by some miracle, you happen to kill me, Latham will still be dead. Herb will still be dead. Alan will still be dead.”
“You’re the next one to die, Alex.”
Alex listens to the background sounds. Wind. A car passing at a high speed. She discerns Jack is on a highway.
“What happened to Phin? Were you too much of a downer so he took off?”
“Get to the point.”
“I wanted to tell you that I watched you try to save your husband. Exciting stuff. You know, you were only about thirty seconds late. If you’d been just a little faster, he’d still be with us.”
Another sound joins the wind and car noises. Alex is overjoyed to hear it.
“Lieutenant Daniels, are you crying?”
The sound becomes muted. Jack has put her hand over the mouthpiece. Not only is she devastated, she’s also embarrassed.
How delicious.
“He’s in a better place, Jack. If he lived, he’d just be pining for you. Did you know his Internet password was Jacqueline? I’m not making that up. And he still had a picture of you in his wallet. Poor sap. I bet he was the type who sent you poems. Did he write you a poem, after your first time? Something about how lovely you were, fucking him in that restaurant bathroom? What rhymes with toilet?”
“I’m…I’m going to-”
“Jack, woman to woman, threats don’t really work when you’re crying like a baby. It’s pathetic. Now, fun as this little chat has been, I’m painting my toenails and it isn’t easy holding the phone at the same time. So here’s the deal. When I call tomorrow, with the clue to save your partner, you’ll have to react fast. You won’t have twelve hours, or two hours. You’ll have less than a minute. Use it wisely.”