Jack Daniels Six Pack (182 page)

Phin turned, looked at me.

“Is that how you feel now?”

“No. Now the only thing I want in the whole damn world is for you to kiss me like you mean it.”

He leaned over, his lips finding mine, his tongue finding mine.

I was sure he meant every second of it.

“Don’t die on me, Jack.”

I smiled at him, my eyes glassy. “Just try not to shoot me.”

He grabbed his rifle and climbed out of the truck, blending into the weeds. I crawled over to the driver’s seat, shifted gears, punched the gas, and headed for what ever hell Alex had in store.

I parked a dozen yards away. McGlade was in the parking lot outside the Crimebago, next to the side door, taped to his computer chair. Alex crouched behind him. She had a gun in one hand, holding it to Harry’s temple. The other held some sort of detonator, the wire trailing from it and into the open side door of the RV.

I made sure the radio was on, the talk button depressed, and hung it under my armpit, clipping it to my sports bra. The sweatshirt was loose enough that you couldn’t tell it was there. I hoped. Then I grabbed my gun and climbed out of the truck.

“Hold it! Drop the gun! Hands over your head!”

I let the gun clatter to the pavement.

“Raise your hands, turn in a full circle!”

I complied, searching for Phin when I faced his way. I didn’t see him. And then I had a really bad thought—did he grab the right rifle? If he took mine by mistake, the sights would be way off because they’d been configured for me. And with his bad elbow…

“Walk toward me slowly, Jack, keeping your hands raised.”

Her gun had switched from pointing at Harry to pointing at me. Right at my heart. Alex liked the chest shot. I felt a cold, dead spot where the bullet would hit if she pulled the trigger. It made me want to run into a corner, curl up fetal, and suck my thumb. I managed to get my legs moving, even though they felt like wet noodles.

“Stop there.”

She made me halt ten feet in front of her. Alex was an excellent marksperson, and at this distance she might as well have been holding the gun directly up my nose. She wouldn’t miss. Even if Phin fired on her. My only chance was if his first shot was a kill shot.

I didn’t hold out much hope for that. This plan was looking worse and worse. It would have been smarter to just drive up really fast and run her over.

“Let Harry go,” I said, with a lot more strength than I felt.

“I’m going to.”

“You’re going to?” Harry said. “My ass.”

Alex patted him on the head. “Don’t worry. I’ll come back for you eventually. But Jack and I are going to go away for a while. I’ll send you some pictures. Maybe you’ll even be able to recognize her, under all of the blood.”

I shook my head slowly, my eyes fixed on her gun. “I’m not going with you, Alex.”

“Yes you are. You’ll do what ever I tell you to do. You’ve given up, Jack. You’re a shell of your former self. I knew that when I saw you at Latham’s funeral.”

I tensed, waiting for the shot. It didn’t come. Was I in Phin’s line of fire? Or did he know that was Alex talking, not me?

Was the walkie-talkie even working?

Jesus, this plan sucked.

“Even if you kill both of us, I’m not going anywhere with you, Alex.”

“You can walk over here, Lieutenant. Or I can shoot out both your knees and drag you over here.”

“No you won’t,” I said. And the fear washed away, being replaced by cold, hard anger. “This is for
Latham
.”

The shot came from my left, plugging into the Crimebago only inches above Alex’s head. She reacted instantly, ducking down and diving inside through the door.

Phin fired again, his shot aimed at where she disappeared.

Save your last two,
I thought, willing him to hear. Then, in a crouch, I ran toward Harry.

Phin fired again, apparently not hearing my telepathic message, his shot pinging into the side of the RV.

“Stop firing, you knucklehead!” Harry screamed. “The whole thing is one big bomb!”

I grabbed Harry’s chair—which thankfully was on coasters—and began to pull him back toward the Bronco. My thanks were short-lived. The parking lot surface was rough, uneven, covered in gravel. It would have been easier tugging him through mud.

“Dammit, sis, pull!”

“I’m pulling, McGlade! There are rocks stuck in the wheels.”

We’d only gotten halfway to the truck when gunfire erupted, coming from the RV. Bits of asphalt flew up from the ground, peppering my legs, making me fall. It felt like being hit with a birdshot. I clawed my way back to my feet, calves bleeding, and dragged McGlade another few steps.

“Try pushing me!” Harry ordered.

I thought about telling him to shut up, but every ounce of energy I had was being expended trying to get him away from the bomb. One of the coasters snapped off, forcing him off balance and making him tip onto his side. I let go, pitching forward, my legs screaming at me. I crawled back to Harry, meeting his eyes.

“Come on, Jackie. You can do it. We have to get farther away.” He grinned at me. “I ain’t heavy. I’m your brother.”

I thought—absurdly, considering the situation—that Harry had kind of a nice smile.

Then the Crimebago exploded, tossing us through the air like rag dolls.

CHAPTER 56

I
OPENED MY EYES,
stared up at empty sky.

A moment later, the sky wasn’t empty. There was a plane flying over me. A jumbo jet, so close I could almost touch it.

But I couldn’t hear it. All I heard was a dull, droning hum.

Then the pain hit.

My head felt like it had cracked open and was leaking. My arm was behind my back, twisted at a funny angle. My legs were on fire.

I blinked. Checked my head. No major leaks, but a helluva lump, and my stitches had opened up. My arm hurt, but didn’t seem to be broken. And my legs weren’t actually burning, just cut up.

I looked left. I was lying next to the Bronco, when I’d been several yards away from it before.

I looked right. The Crimebago was mostly gone, leaving a smoking crater where it had been parked.

The lot had become a debris field. Harry’s scorched sofa. Part of the Murphy bed, red velour sheets still clinging to it. Half a computer monitor. The top part of a bucket seat. A severed human leg.

I squinted at the leg. It wore jeans, and a red boot with a stiletto heel.

The boots Alex had been wearing.

“Told you I wasn’t going with you,” I said to the leg.

I sat up, the world spinning, making my stomach unhappy. After swaying a little, I found my balance and began looking across the landscape of detritus for Harry.

He was ten yards to my left, taped to the broken remains of the chair.

I crawled to him, wincing at a dozen kinds of pain, navigating bits of engine and a burning spare tire that stung my eyes and nose.

“McGlade…”

His eyes were closed, his face a mess of gore. But he was bleeding. That meant he was alive.

I wiped some of the blood off his face, and was horrified that his nose came off in my hand. I resisted the urge to drop it—maybe surgeons could sew it back on somehow. I turned his head down, so the blood dripped away and not into his lungs, and then checked his pulse.

It was strong. I might have actually smiled a little.

Harry coughed, wet and garbled.

“Jackie?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“I can’t…I can’t feel my nose.”

“It, uh, it came off, Harry.”

“Fuck me. Where is it?”

I held up his nose, for him to see. He grunted, and I realized he was laughing.

“You got my nose,” he said.

I grinned at him.

“My ass hurts Do I still have an ass?”

I looked him over.

“Except for the nose, you’re pretty much intact.”

“I’m lying on something hard.”

I wasn’t thrilled to reach under him, but I quickly found the object causing him discomfort. A cell phone. And, incredibly, it still seemed to be working.

I dialed 911, told them to send everything they had.

“Is the bitch dead?” McGlade asked when I got off the phone.

“Yes, bro. She’s dead.”

“Good. I was getting kind of sick of her.”

I glanced over my shoulder and realized I had to make sure. “Be right back.”

I made the long return journey to the severed leg, winced at it, and then worked the zipper on the back. These looked like the boots Alex had been wearing, but I wanted to confirm it, grisly as the task was. When the zipper was down I reached inside…

Grabbed the ankle…

Began to pull it out…

Felt a hand, on my shoulder.

I spun around, terrified, thinking it was Alex, still coming after me like the Terminator, refusing to die even missing a limb.

It was Phin.

“Jack?”

“Toenails,” I told him. “Alex told me she was painting her toenails.”

I tugged the boot free, exposing her foot.

Five toes stared back at me, their nails fire engine red.

This was Alex. She was finally dead.

“Phineas Troutt, this is the FBI! Drop your weapon and raise you hands up over your head!”

Phin and I exchanged a panicked glance. Feebies were all over the place, rushing in from all directions. How the hell could they have followed us? Was there some sort of transmitter on me? Or on Harry? Had he made good on his deal and turned Phin in?

“Go,” I told Phin. “Run.”

He shook his head.

“Please.” I held on to his shoulder. Squeezed.

“You’re not going to jail for me, Jack. This is the only way to make it right.”

“Phin….”

He dropped the rifle and raised his hands.

Twenty seconds later they had him in cuffs and were dragging him off.

Special Agent Dailey approached me, looking prim and proper in a neatly pressed suit.

“Is that Alex Kork?” he asked, indicating the leg.

“What’s left of her. How’d you find me?”

“Your cell phone.”

Dammit. The call to my mother, and the calls from Alex.

“Phin’s a good man,” I said.

“I’m sure he is. But it’s not my job to get personal. It’s just my job to catch him. Getting personal would take more than I have to give.”

He appraised Alex’s leg again, then nodded to himself.

“Nice work here, Lieutenant.”

Someone found a fire extinguisher and was killing one of the burning tires. I watched for a moment, then looked beyond him, into the distance, into the world. A world that I was finally ready to be part of again. But not as a cop.

“It’s not
lieutenant,
” I said evenly. “Not anymore.”

CHAPTER 57

“
I
’M READY TO SAY GOODBYE.”

The day was gorgeous, sun blazing, birds singing, a warm breeze whistling through the tombstones. I wasn’t wearing black this time. I had on a floral print dress, one I’d bought de cades ago, something casual and flirty and created for a much younger, happier woman. Someone optimistic.

The grass over Latham’s grave was green and lush, like it had been growing there for years rather than just four days. I crouched down, placed a single red rose on the ground. Six feet above his heart. I stayed like that for a moment, the two dozen sporadic stitches in my legs protesting.

“I’m sorry for everything. Mostly that I didn’t reach this conclusion earlier. You never pushed me into quitting, never made any demands. Thank you for that. But I’m retired now, and if there’s anything beyond this world and you’re listening, I hope you can forgive me. I also hope I gave you even a tenth of the happiness that you gave me. I love you, Latham.”

I stood, wiped the tears off my cheeks. My purse rang, and I fished out my cell.

“Thank you for the gift,” Herb said.

“Did the Turduckinlux come?”

“Did you send me that too? How about steaks?”

“Assorted steaks, Herb. I got you the Meat Lover’s Package. It also comes with an angioplasty.”

“I appreciate it, Jack.” He cleared his throat. “Bernice also gave me the other thing. Your badge. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I think it’s a good thing.”

“Because now I can’t boss you around anymore?”

“Because you deserve to be happy. Now you have a chance to.”

I stared at Latham’s headstone and pursed my lips.

“When are you getting out?” I asked.

“You know hospitals. They want to milk every last cent out of you. I could actually use some milk right now. Or ice cream. Do you like ice cream? I like bacon. They should make bacon-flavored ice cream.”

“Hi, Jack,” Bernice was talking now. “The latest morphine dose is kicking in, he’s babbling.”

“He’ll be okay?”

“Everything looks good.” A pause. “Will you be okay?”

I glanced at the grave again, then looked up at the sun.

“I think so.”

“Good. Stop in later, that will cheer him up. But don’t bring any food.”

“Bring food!” Herb thundered in the background. “It’s horrible here!”

“Don’t bring food,” Bernice repeated. “Doctors have him on a liquid diet.”

“It’s horrible!” he wailed.

“I’ll be by later.”

I hung up, popped the phone back into my purse, and it rang again. I put it to my face.

“Hello?”

Another ring. But it wasn’t my phone. It was coming from my purse. I hunted around, found the cell Harry had had in his pocket, the one I’d used to call 911. I checked the caller ID. Four-one-four. A Wisconsin area code. I answered.

“Hello?”

“Is this Gracie?” A woman’s voice.

“I’m sorry, no it’s not.”

“Do you know anyone named Gracie?”

“I don’t. This is Harry McGlade’s phone.”

“Do you know Samantha Porter? I’m her neighbor. I’m watching her daughter, Melinda.” The voice was frantic, and picking up speed. “Sam’s been gone for two days, and I finally got the landlord to let me into her apartment. I found this number with the name Gracie written on it. She was supposed to go shopping with Gracie, but I haven’t heard back from her in two days.”