“We need him.”
“We don’t need him. He’s unreliable.”
“Hasn’t he saved your life a bunch of times?”
“He’s a drug addict.”
“You just figured that out now? Of course he’s a drug addict. He’s dying of cancer. If I had the big C I’d be snorting so much cocaine I’d need two crack whores to help me hold the heroin needle steady.”
“There are prescription drugs.”
“We’re chasing a killer. You want him stoned on opiates? At least with coke he’ll be alert.”
“We’ll be fine without him.”
“Sure. Slappy can watch our backs. Right Slappy?”
We looked at Slappy, but he wasn’t in the corner anymore. He was gone.
“Uh-oh,” McGlade said. He grabbed something off the kitchen sink and tossed it to me. A Ping-Pong paddle. He also brandished one in his good hand.
“I’m not going to spank your monkey, McGlade.”
“I hope not, sis. That’s gross.”
“You know what I mean.”
“This is purely defensive, if he tries to—”
Something flew across my line of sight, and McGlade brought the paddle up to his face. A clump of monkey dung splattered onto it.
I quickly stood up and looked around the room, raising the paddle up over my mouth. About the only thing that could make my life worse was a faceful of Slappy crap, and I wasn’t about to let that happen.
“Where is he?” I said, justifiably paranoid. “I don’t see him.”
“We should get back to back,” Harry said. “Then he can’t sneak up on us.”
I nodded, backing into Harry, my eyes scanning the RV for any movement.
“Let’s go up to the cab. We can close the door so he can’t get us.”
“Good call.”
We walked cautiously over to the front of the Crimebago, my senses hyper-alert, like I was in a gunfight. I felt things squish underfoot but was afraid to look down and see what they were.
We were only two feet away from the cab when the monkey jumped off the refrigerator and leaped at me, howling, fangs bared and eyes wild. He caught my paddle, and his teeth latched on to my knuckle. I shook him free and then ran, with Harry, into the front of the RV and slammed the door behind me.
“Your monkey bit me!”
“Yeah, he does that.”
Harry settled into the driver’s seat. I stared at the blood running down my finger.
“Jesus, McGlade! Should I get this looked at?”
He shrugged. “I would. I can’t even remember all the disgusting things he put in his mouth today. Plus, he probably has all sorts of monkey diseases.” He started the engine. “Maybe you should just cut the finger off, before the germs get into your bloodstream.”
I used my sweatshirt to swab away some of the blood.
“Do you have a first aid kit?”
“It’s in the back.”
We both stared at the closed door. Scary monkey sounds came from behind it.
“Want to use my gun?” Harry asked.
I declined, instead using some tissues from the glove compartment and half a bottle of water that was in the cup holder.
“I know what will make you feel better,” Harry said.
He pressed a button on the dashboard, and the RV filled with Pink Floyd.
Amazingly, the screeching and pounding stopped.
“I guess Slappy is a fan of seventies psychedelic rock,” I said.
“That or he found my Vicodin. He got into my medicine cabinet earlier. Are those little bottles monkey-proof?”
“Probably.” I had no idea.
“You want to go check?”
“Hell no.”
“Well, then. We’ll assume it’s the Floyd. Wisconsin, ho.”
Harry put the RV into gear, and we headed east.
CHAPTER 44
ALEX HAS THE WINDOW CRANKED DOWN—a temporary solution for the smell coming from the body in the backseat. She’ll deal with it soon. But she has other business first.
The wind is cold, harsh, and slaps at her cheeks. She only feels its sting on her right side. Alex brings up a hand, touches the rubbery scar tissue, feels a bit of stubble. One of the skin grafts was taken from her leg, and the hairs are sharp and pointy. She thinks about shaving again—an act that humiliates her almost as much as it angers her—and decides not to.
Samantha didn’t seem to mind it.
Alex smiles privately. What a wonderful eve ning it turned out to be. Shopping was fun, even though the boots are hideous. A terrific dinner. Then back to Sam’s apartment for a drink and what ever.
They never got around to the drink.
Alex closes her eyes for a moment, and can practically feel Sam’s body lying next to hers. It’s so pleasant, so right, that it makes her anger fade away.
The future is looking brighter and brighter.
This is the home stretch. Soon after Chicago, Alex will leave the country. She’ll be gone for a while. A year at least. Sun and fun, rest and recuperation. And then, who knows? Once everything is taken care of, the whole world will be open to Alex. It will be like starting a whole new life.
“I think I can fall in love with you, Samantha,” Alex says, half of her face grinning.
She reaches Chicago an hour later, never having to stop for gas. Maybe there’s something to this Prius hype after all.
The neighborhood is dark, quiet. She got the address, and the idea, from an earlier phone call. Rather than park anywhere near the house, she finds a space next to a fire hydrant, one block over.
If Alex wanted to do this quick, she could burst into the house, guns blazing, and kill her intended victim. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be so quick. He’s armed, has a burglar alarm, and has most assuredly been on heightened alert since Alex has gotten out. She could set the building on fire, wait to shoot him when he came running out. Or use some of Lance’s ordnance to send the house into the stratosphere. But those aren’t nearly as fun as what she has planned.
Giving Jack a sporting chance to prevent this murder, and watching her fail, is simpler, and more satisfying. Plus the authorities, and the media, will be focused on events here while Alex is off doing other, more important things.
She grabs her duct tape and a fresh cell phone. With some difficulty—both with the climbing and the securing—the phone gets set up in a tree across the street from the house, some dead leaves packed around it to keep it hidden. Then she brushes off the bits of tree from her outfit and heads back to the car.
After all the text messages she’s sent lately, Alex is becoming pretty adept at what is an awkward skill. Maybe she’s not as fast as the average schoolkid, but the six words appear on the screen quickly and easily.
THIS IS HERB. HE’S YOUR PARTNER.
CHAPTER 45
NO PHOTO THIS TIME. But the first text message was followed up by:
HE DIES TOMORROW.
I was on the phone with Herb ten seconds later.
“Herb! It’s Jack. I—”
“Jack, I’m absolutely starving,” he interrupted, talking louder than normal. “Why don’t we meet to night at that sushi restaurant you liked? Remember how you went crazy for the maki roll?”
“Enough with the food, Herb. Alex just called me. You’re her next target.”
“Let’s discuss it over raw fish.”
“Did you hear me? I said Alex is coming after you.”
“I’ll be fine. Trust me. And I insist we grab a bite together. If not sushi, how about that seafood place on Halsted?”
“Herb—”
I stopped myself. Herb never met a food he didn’t like, but I’d met several, sushi being one of the biggies. He took me to a place a few years back and the maki roll made me so ill I still can’t eat fish. He knew that.
“Would dinner be just us?” I asked carefully. “Or would we have some friends along?”
“I’m pretty sure the Nicholas Brothers would be there t
oo.”
Cute. The Nicholas Brothers were tap dancers. Herb also could have mentioned drinking draft beer, which was another reference to tap.
The Feds. They were listening in.
“Sounds nice, but I can’t make it. You need—”
“We can have a few draft beers afterward,” Herb said.
“I got it already, Herb. Now listen closely. The message from Alex said that you’ll die tomorrow. I need you to go away for a while. No credit cards, no relatives, don’t tell anyone.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be safe here. I have angels watching me.”
Herb isn’t good at subtle.
“Don’t put your faith in angels, buddy. She’s smarter than they are.”
“If we have a chance to catch her by making me bait—”
“No!” I yelled it loud enough that Harry jumped in his seat.
“It’s not your call, Jack. You’d do the same thing.”
“Dammit, Herb—”
“I’ll come out of this okay. I’m not the one you need to worry about.”
“Catching Alex isn’t going to protect me, Herb. You need to protect yourself and your wife. Alex…she killed Alan.”
There was an uncomfortable silence. I shut my eyes, saw Alan’s face, opened them again.
“I’m sorry, Jack. But that’s all the more reason I need to do this.”
“Herb, please—”
“Looking forward to that Turduckinlux. We’ll deep fry that baby when this is all over.”
He hung up on me. I stared at the phone.
“We could kidnap him,” Harry said. “Toss him in back with Slappy.”
“Bad idea.”
“Why? You think he’d eat my monkey?”
“The Feds.” I rubbed my temples. “His phone is being tapped by the Feds. And now that they know Alex is after him, they’ll camp on his front lawn. I won’t be able to get within a mile of him.”
“That’s a good thing. If you can’t get to him, neither can Alex.”
“She has to know that. She told me Herb was the target, which means she has a way to get through them.”
Harry gave me a sideways glance, then narrowed his eyes.
“You didn’t call Fatso on your phone, did you?”
I still had my cell in my hand. Harry made a face.
“Christ, Jackie. I told you the Feds can trace that. Have you been using that a lot?”
“No.” Then I remembered the long conversations with Mom and Dad earlier. “Not much.”
Harry rubbed his eyes, then extended the motion downward, massaging his jaw.
“You need to keep your head in the game, sis. The bond between siblings may be one of the strongest in nature, but those Feebie pricks pretty much guaranteed I’d do time if I help you or Phin.”
I folded my arms, anger creeping up my back and perching on my shoulders.
“So don’t help me, McGlade. Let me out here.”
He sighed. “Sis—”
“And stop calling me sis. There isn’t any proof we’re actually related.”
Harry shook his head. “You don’t know that. What about the DNA test thingy?”
“The lab hasn’t called. But I don’t need a lab to know that I share more DNA with Slappy than I do with you. Hell, McGlade, take a good look at yourself. You actually think we could have the same genes?”
“Mom says I look like my father.”
“Mom has trouble remembering to take her arthritis medication every day. You think she can remember a one-night stand from fifty years ago?”
“You’re just jealous she likes me more.”
“Likes you? No one can stand you, Harry. You’re an obnoxious, irritating, offensive, petty little man.”
“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.”
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